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I inhale deeply, debating what I should tell her. Technically, I shouldn't be telling her anything, but I don't dare hide shit from her.
"Roque has a brother. We didn't know about him and now we're trying to figure out how we should prepare."
Starla sucks in a sharp breath, "Prepare? Is he coming for the club or something?"
I nod once, "Yeah, it looks like he is. That package we got the other day, it wasn't just some random delivery."
Starla's eyes go wide. "What do you mean?"
I lick my lips, knowing I shouldn't be telling her this shit, but I'm an officer of the club. If anyone has a problem with it they can say it to my face.
"We took a boat to Cuba when we went there a few months back. The captain's severed head was sent to us."
Starla blinks a couple of times and downs her drink. "Fuck, I wasn't expecting that."
My expression grows grim and I give her a slow nod. "Yeah, so shit's a bit tense right now."
"I bet. All I have to worry about is Bubba's grand opening and the shit going on in my head."
I turn to face her, a hint of intensity creeping in my gaze. "What shit?"
Starla hesitates, her lips parting before she quickly snaps them shut.
"Come on, spit it out."
"It's not important. I?—"
Before she can finish, a man appears on the other side of the reception area. "Hey, you guys still taking orders?"
He's probably in his mid to late twenties, with a charming smile that's directed solely at Starla.
She plasters on her best customer service smile and cocks her head to the side. "We sure are. What can I get ya?"
The man's eyes roam up and down her body before answering. "Your number for starters,"
I scoff, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Real original, buddy."
"Only big tippers get my number,"
The guy pulls out his wallet, yanking three twenty dollar bills from it. "Think this is a big enough tip? The rest of the tip I'll give you will come later."
Fuck this shit.
The anger inside me boils over and I snap. I grab onto his arm and squeeze hard, inch my face as close as I can to him and stare right into this slimy fuck's eyes.
"It's probably best you leave, and don't ever flirt with my girl again or I'll break your fuckin' legs. I'm sure the ladies will really like some little crippled bitch like yourself."
I release his arm and the guy yanks it back, swallowing hard before leaving the mixer.
Suddenly, there's pressure wrapping around my arm and I turn to see who the fuck has their hands on me right now.
With nostrils flaring and adrenaline pumping through my veins, I'm met with Starla's aggravated glare.
"Um, what the fuck was that?" she demands.
"Me telling that creep to fuck off." I reply, trying my hardest to calm the fuck down.
A scowl forms on her lips, "You realize I was flirting with him too, right?"
