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I was fucked.
Completely and utterly fucked.
“Not soon enough, baby.”
MISSY
“Missy! Get your cute ass over here,” Alissa called the second I stepped into the club area, a backpack loaded with the final things from my locker tossed over my shoulder. I couldn’t help but crack a smile when I spotted the group of girls waiting for me at the bar. Alissa lifted a couple of glasses into the air. “Drinks are on Mitchell.”
Alissa was The Rush’s headlining dancer and the only one who could get away with cracking open the seal on a brand-new bottle of vodka without Mitchell losing his damn mind.
I covered my laughter with my hand, joining the girls and sliding onto a barstool. I glanced back to where Mitchell was watching from the backstage area, his nose scrunched in annoyance as Alissa upended the bottle, pouring the glassy liquid into a row of shot glasses, filling each one to the brim.
Mitchell hated this.
Gem and I had handed in our notice a few days earlier after I’d seen Hawk at the clubhouse. We’d worked our last shift the previous night so not only was he already pissed about losing two dancers, now we were drinking his good booze too. Six shots of vodka for us meant less money for him.
Whether it was a few dollars or a couple of cents—dollar signs were constantly ringing over in his eyes. But Alissa had already warned him that if he didn’t let us say a real goodbye—minus the watered-down booze he served everyone else—that she would be the next one tapping out, losing him the hundreds of dollars he earned every night from his thirty percent cut of her tips.
He was a scumbag.
But he was also the least scummy scumbag around.
That was the only reason the girls on the lineup worked here. He might be a total skeez, but I’d heard worse stories from girls who had come here from other clubs.
Better the devil you know and all that, but I was happy to be finally done with this version of hell.
“Five minutes. Then you girls need to be on this stage, rehearsing,” Mitchell called before stomping off down the corridor, mumbling under his breath.
Gem rolled her eyes as she reached for the shot glasses, sliding one to each of the six of us—the group of girls who had my back these past couple of years. They’d been a huge part of my life and Kadey’s, getting us through some really shitty times, and this was our final hurrah.
Alissa raised her glass first, a wide grin on her face despite the tears I could see forming on her lashes. “To Missy and Gem,” she cheered before clearing her throat. “For getting the hell out of this shit hole.”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat while raising my own glass, the six of us clinking them together enthusiastically, sending the clear liquid sloshing over the sides.
“Cheers!” we all shouted before tossing back the entire shot and slamming the glass down onto the bar. There was nothing quite like the feeling of that hard burn as alcohol trickled down your throat and into your stomach, stealing your breath for a split second before the warmth began to radiate outward through your body.
Easing the tension in your muscles.
Washing away the stresses.
“And…” Gem added with a wide grin, her eyes sparkling playfully as Alissa poured shot number two, “… may we each find our own sexy, tattooed, possessive men with big di—”
Laughter burst from my mouth and I shook my head, not sure why I continued to be surprised by what came out of my best friend’s mouth.
Though… she wasn’t wrong about Hawk. Sexy. Tattooed.And all the rest.Even days after our intimate encounter at the clubhouse, I could still feel his touch lingering on my skin and hear that deep rumble of his voice that never failed to kick my heart straight into the next gear.
I cleared my throat, trying to stop the rush of heat scorching my cheeks as the memories began to flood in.
His hands on my breasts.
His head between my thighs—
“Missy,” Carter, one of the security guys, called from the front door. “Someone’s outside asking for you.”
My brow pinched as I slipped off my seat and headed for the exit, a chorus of female chatter and laughter followed me out as the girls continued the party without me. Carter pushed the heavy door open, holding it as I stepped out into the parking lot.
I blinked furiously, trying to fight the harsh sunlight as it attacked my eyes. The brick of the building was painted black so the neon writing on the side that screamed “Girls, girls, girls!” would be like a beacon to horny men passing by. It also perfectly outlined the young woman in the pastel pink floor-length dress who was shifting nervously a few feet from the doorway.
