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“And the string attached?” I say dryly. “I’m not going to blow him if that was the deal.”
Wendy grins. “The string attached was that we quote his surgery costs. He won’t cut a deal because you’re a bleeding heart that lacks understanding of after-surgery care. His words.”
I suck in my breath. That bastard. “Right there is the problem, Wendy. He’s a horrible surgeon. He couldn’t even remove a rabbit’s ovaries without fucking it up.” Yep, I’m that mad.
“Well, the deal’s done.” She stops when she sees my anger. “With your approval of course.” She stops again, reaches for the phantom cigarettes, her eyes glued to the empty spot. “I kind of implied you already had.”
I stand as I heave a breath. She’s right about everything. “I guess if we don’t need to set up a surgery right away, then we can have the doors open in three weeks. But it’s just you and me, Wendy. I can’t afford a vet’s assistant.”
“I know, hun. It’ll be slow going at first anyway, but the good news is that Dr. Broughton is an arrogant asshole and there will be a ton of his clients who will want to at least check you out.” She glances at my chest again.
“We need an examining table.”
“No problem, I know a butcher who owes me a favour.”
I don’t ask. With Wendy, I’m learning not to.
CHAPTERTHREE
Trigger
We’re in church, Hangman’s on a rampage and a month later, I’m still thinking about the luscious woman I met at the food court. I don’t realize Hangman has asked me a question until Rocky swipes at me. “Get your head out of your ass,” he hisses.
I look up. All eyes are on me. “Uh… yeah.”
There’s some general laughter. “Yeah what, you fucker?” Hangman says in his usual gritty voice.
“Yeah, I got it under control?” I venture. I glance across the table at Reaper, who shrugs.
“The genital warts?” Fucking Hash says and everyone roars. Well, everyone but me and Hangman.
“I asked you if Lacy passed her sick onto any of the johns.”
He’s talking about the club’s brothel, Dick’s Picks. One of our girls, Lacy, has been out a week with a bug, but she was smart enough not to come in as soon as she felt the sniffles. I turn red. “I meant no.”
Joker, our VP takes over. “Where’s your fucking head at, Trig? You been like this for a month. Distracted, moody. Hash might be right about the genital warts. You’re not fucking the passarounds, which makes them bitchier than usual.”
I groan. He’s right. Since I met Evanee, I’ve lost my sex drive for any other woman. Not even the thought of two together, me watching as they go down on each other, gets my post panting. It’s a huge problem, not my dick because yeah, it’s huge, but it’s never been so delinquent. The problem is, I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find the woman of my lust. Not one single sighting. No one’s even heard of her. I might have to reconcile to being a monk for the rest of my life. Both my dick and I shudder at the thought.
Apparently, I’ve lost the train of conversation again as I’m jerked out of my chair by Hangman. He’s fisting my cut as he slams me against a wall, his snarling face inches from mine.
Red scrambles out of the way.
“You fuckin’ get your head in the game or I’m gonna turn you into turnip mash! You got a problem, say what it is. You don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it, then don’t bring it to the table.” My backbone ripples with pain as he gives me another slam, then abruptly releases me.
“Fuck.” I don’t like being manhandled, even by the prez, but he’s justified this time. No excuse for bein’ distracted in church. “Sorry,” I mumble. “Can’t talk about it.” Meaning I won’t, because I don’t need the razzin’ I’ll get if the guys find out what’s got me moping.
Hangman bulldozes his way back to his chair and it groans under his weight as he slams into it. That’s how he is – frenetic energy that never seems to wane. It would be hard to tell that he was pissed except for the part where he tried to break my spine.
“I asked you a fucking question! How’s the girl?” he snarls. He says it like he doesn’t give a shit about Lacy, but he does. Underneath his gruffness he has a soft spot for women.
Red grunts as he rights his chair and I give him a look of apology. The big fucker offers me a shit-eatin’ no-problem-I-got-your-back grin.
I straighten my cut, pick up my own chair and straddle it as my mind flits from Lacy to Evanee. They have the same mink brown hair, but that’s where the similarities end. Evanee has long, fuckin’ legs and second-helping tits. And she’s gorgeous to boot. I don’t get how she’s still single. Wait a sec. She never said she was single, did she? My dick withers in despair.
“Answer, you motherfucker!” Hangman shouts, slamming his hand on the table hard enough to make it rattle.
“Lacy’s good,” I say quickly. “She thinks she’s ready to come back, but I told her to take another week. Don’t need Typhoid Mary spreading her toxic love to the customers or other girls.”
