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Chapter Twenty-Two
Snapper
“Eleven.”
I poured cereal into my bowl and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. “Eleven what?” I asked.
“There are eleven days left until I need to pay my rent and bills.”
“Okay,” I drawled.
“Do you know what happens after I pay those bills?” she asked.
Lennox pulled the milk from the fridge and filled my bowl until the cereal started floating. “I have no clue.”
“I have no more money, Jonas. I told you I had a month before I would be out of money, and that month is coming up pretty fast.” She filled her coffee cup and leaned against the counter. “We’re living in a fantasy world right now, Jonas. I need to get back to Iowa and figure out what I’m going to do.”
“Back to Iowa?” I shook my head. “The only reason you’re going back to Iowa is to pack your stuff up and bring it here.” And I would be going with her.
“My life is in Iowa, Jonas. I can’t just move here on a whim.”
“A whim?” I scoffed. “And your life is wherever you want it to be.”
“Yes, a whim, Jonas. We have zero plans, and you just want me to move here. What will I do here?”
I shoveled a spoonful into my mouth and shrugged. “Whatever you want. It’s not like you’ll have to pay rent or anything. I live here, and so will you.” She was making this way harder than it needed to be.
“I can’t live here. I’m not a part of the club.”
I threw her a wink. “No, but you’re sleeping with a member of the club, which is pretty much the same thing as being a part of the club.”
“Do I get to know club business?” she laughed.
I rolled my eyes. “Club business is pretty much working at the body shop, strip club, or pole dancing place. All the crazy shit the club used to get into is gone, finally.” Things had considerably calmed down while I had been in prison. I guess the universe figured the club had been through enough shit and decided to go easy on us.
“What if I can’t find a job here, Jonas? I can’t just live here rent-free and mooch off you and the club.”
“Did you not just hear the three places I listed that you can work at? You can bartend with Luna at the club.”
“The strip club?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Do bartenders make a lot of money? Doc and Marty aren’t exactly cheap.”
I leveled my gaze on her. “They make more than you did at the tanning salon but not as much as the dancers.”
She opened her mouth, but I shook my head.
“Hell no. Frost may be fine watching his woman shake her ass for people, but I’m not. The only person you shake your ass for is me,” I thundered.
“I probably wouldn’t even make that much anyway,” she sighed.
“You’d rake in the fucking money, Lennox, but isn’t like we will find out because you will not step foot on that stage.” No fucking way. I’ve been one of those idiots ogling chicks on stage, and I was a dog when I did it. Lennox was not going to shake her ass on stage to buy dog food.
“That seems kind of controlling.”
