AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Shaking my head, I left the penthouse and quickly hailed a cab. Maybe if I begged the driver, he could run every red light and get me to work on time. Not that I was in a hurry. I had forgotten how sore I was after working shifts at the Gentlemen’s club. I loved Barney, I really did, but waiting on drunk businessmen was killing my feet and lower back.
Beggars couldn’t be picky.
I was grateful that Barney let me have my old job back and the money I made was more than enough to provide for myself and York. I was even able to save a portion of it. Hopefully soon, I would have enough to find an apartment of my own. While I loved living with Tia and really appreciated that she helped me out with York, I needed my own place. It felt wrong to stay in that beautiful penthouse without paying rent or utilities, even though Tia told me it didn’t matter.
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate Tia and everything she’d done. It was that the longer I stayed in this city, the faster he would find me. It had already been two months of looking over my shoulder, double checking every male that looked remotely like him. I couldn’t do it anymore. My nerves couldn’t take it. I was losing sleep and my anxiety was at an all-time high. No. The quicker I could save the money, the faster I could get myself and York out of this city.
After giving the cabbie his fare, I rushed into the building, ignoring the looks of some of the girls.
Yeah, I got it.
They hated me.
What else was new?
Making my way to my locker, I quickly stowed my purse and grabbed my apron. Donning it, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and slammed my locker shut to find Stacie glaring at me from the door.
“Must be nice showing up whenever you want while the rest of work our asses off covering your tables.”
Stacie was a bitch.
Plain and simple.
Young, and pretty, like all the other girls that worked for Barney, Stacie was a junior at NYU, studying economics. A daughter of a well-off family from some shit hole in Iowa, Stacie’s sole ambition wasn’t to graduate and make a name for herself. Nope. This bitch wanted one thing, and one thing only. A Soulless Sinner brother.
Known around most of the campuses in the greater New York City area, Barney’s club catered to the Soulless Sinner M.C. Their parties were legendary and everyone who was anyone wanted an invitation. But for the girls that worked for Barney, well, all they had to do was sign-up and agree to sign an NDA before attending. The rules were simple. Befriend a brother for an undisclosed determined of time and when that time was up, the brother would make a sizable donation into the girls’ college fund.
No muss. No fuss.
The snag? The girls had to have a 4.0 GPA to attend.
The Soulless Sinners didn’t want some ditzy, money-hungry piece. They wanted educated and driven girls who were only looking for a good time. When their time was up, they split ways happily.
From my understanding, Stacie still hadn’t received her invitation.
“Is the club so slow, you have time to stand here busting my chops, or is there something else I can help you with?”
“You think you are so fucking special, Tess? With your college degree and all. But look at you. Still working for Barney. Rumor is no hospital will hire you. What did you do, Tess? Fuck the wrong man?”
If she only knew.
I’ve dealt with women like Stacie my whole life. Girls who thought they were better than me, smarter than me, prettier than me. They were all the same shallow, selfish, hateful cunts and would never change. Women like Stacie believed society owed them something in life and that they deserved money and riches but refused to work for it. Nope, women like Stacie believed that what was between their legs would take them to the promise land.
Refusing to dignify her with a response, I walked past her and headed for the main room and got to work.
It was going to be a long shift.
My feet were killing me when I finally sat on the bench before my locker, too tired to move. My whole body ached. I was getting too old for this shit. I really needed to find a normal job. Someplace where men didn’t grab my ass or chest or worse, try to get down my pants. For such high-profile customers, it felt as if Barney catered to the sick and perverted men of New York City.
Taking off my apron, I counted my tips for the night, pleased when I counted out close to a thousand dollars. Not bad for one night of work, even if I had to swallow my tongue half the night. Putting my tips in my wallet, I was about to stand and close my locker when I felt a sliver of something. Almost like a hair’s breadth brush across my skin, causing the skin on the back of my neck to rise and my heart to pick up.
I was no longer alone.
He was here.
I knew it.
I knew it was inevitable.
