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“Rig!” Wilder calls out.
Colin’s ears perk up as he scans the crowd. Eventually, his eyes land on Lucky, then shift down to me. His easy smile falls flat, and he releases the two women, who pout pathetically. Losing all his swagger, he takes on a severe expression, pushing through the throngs of people to reach us.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” He points a finger at Lucky’s chest.
“Don’t look at me, man.” Lucky smirks. “I just found her and kept her safe ’til you got back.”
“She”—I start with more confidence than I’m feeling—“is here because you won’t answer my calls or texts.”
As though I said nothing at all, he grips my upper arm and tugs me off the stool before pulling me toward the door. I try to jerk away, but his vice-like hold is impossibly strong.
“Let go!” I demand, but he continues to ignore me, and so does everyone else. Apparently, men can rough women up around here, and no one will say shit. Good to know the company he keeps.
Seeing no other option, I kick the back of his knee, making it buckle. He drops his hold on me as he stumbles, throwing his arms out to catch himself.
Once stabilized, he spins around. “Seriously?”
“Huh.” I shrug with mock curiosity. “That move still works on you.”
“And you’re still a pain in the ass. Come on.” This time, he takes my hand. “It’s too loud in here to talk.”
I don’t miss the glares from the previous two women as we pass by, heading outside. I should explain that he’s my brother, but I liked how it felt when he chose me over girls back when I was eight, and I sure as shit like it now too.
Once again, he takes me to his cute little studio cabin. He’s lucky to have found somewhere to land post-Ray. It might not be anything special, but people who grow up like us don’t need special. We just need it to be ours. I hope Mom and I get that someday.
He closes the door behind us and sits on his bed, same as last time, so I follow suit and take the recliner.
“So?” he asks, those green eyes boring into me.
“So, are you going to give me an answer?”
I hold my breath as he stares at me, his jaw ticking and his fists balled in his lap. It’s not the end of the world if he says no, but I toured two other brothels in my area over the last week, and I don’t want to work at either place. The properties are old and don’t have the amenities the Honey Pot does. It’s the difference between working at a five-star hotel or a two-star motel.
“Why do you want it this bad?”
“I need the money.”
“Why can’t you do”—he tries to think of jobs that don’t require me spreading my legs but make a similar wage—“literally anything else.”
Because I need to get as far away from your rapist dad in the shortest amount of time possible.
“Iwasdoing something else. I was waitressing at a diner where I made little more than ten dollars an hour plus tips. When people see ‘diner,’ they assume two bucks is a good tip. That meant after taxes, I made around four hundred dollars a week.”
“But you’re living at home and drive a piece of shit car.”
I stand, my frustration building. It’s none of his goddamn business why I need more money, but if anyone were to understand, it should be him. He knows what that house is like. He knows what his dad is like. Take away Ray’s late night/early morning visits that Colin didn’t have to endure, and he still knows that Ray is an abusive asshole.
“Don’t pretend you have any clue what my life is like. If you did, you might not be such a judgmental prick about this,” I say.
“I’m not trying to be a prick. I’m just trying to understand.”
My nose stings and my eyes water because I hear his impending rejection. He’s not gonna let me work for him, which means I’ll end up at the Chicken Scratch Club, where the sheets are stained, the rooms are dank, and there’s no security.
“Please, Colin,” I plead, hating that I’m exposing myself to him.
“I’m sorry, Vivi. The answer is no. And I put in a call to the other brothels, so they won’t hire you either.”
He did what?
