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“Don’t start something,” she laughs, wagging a finger in my face. “I don’t expect you to understand it, but at the very least you have to respect it. We’re okay with it. We have a roof over our heads, a bed, food, and all the dick or pussy we want.”
Well, when she puts it like that I suppose she’s right. It’s not my business anyway, and I definitely have no right to judge them. If they’re happy with this arrangement, I’m not going to comment further.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” I ask as I look around.
The room is surprisingly tidy and clean considering the eight beds.
“Has Gray told you about the food situation?”
When I shake my head, she sighs audibly and gestures to a bed. I follow her to it, and we both sit down.
“Slasher told me the Kings are running low on cash, which means they’re having a hard time feeding everyone.”
“O-okay,” I stutter, unsure why she’s telling me.
“You’re the new woman in charge, Zoe. So you need to come up with a plan to rein the men in. If you don’t, we’ll blow through whatever is in the fridges and freezers in no time.”
Focusing on what she’s saying, I ignore the need to argue that I never asked for this. While it’s the truth, it’s useless. Clearly I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I challenged Rose. But I’ve made my bed, and now it’s time to fucking lie in it.
“Okay,” I repeat.
My mind is going a million miles a minute as I try to come up with something—anything—that’s even remotely helpful.
“You guys are still working at Dirty Diamonds, right?” I try not to cringe as I mention the club that’s present in most of my nightmares.
“Yep,” Alana confirms, popping the P.
I nod thoughtfully. “But the current expenses are higher than the income.”
She grunts her confirmation.
A thoughtful look takes over her features, and I don’t know why, but I get the sense she’s wrestling with a decision as her brows furrow.
“What is it?” I prompt.
She bites her nail absentmindedly. “Can I trust you, Zoe?”
“Of course,” I blurt out.
“Mama said the same, and she’s usually a great judge of character.”
I watch, stunned, as Alana gets up and retrieves her laptop from a cupboard.
“She sent me an email with an attached sheet of the budget, and suggestions to stretch it. Do you want to see?”
Do I? That would be a hell fucking yes.
When I nod, Alana fires it up and shows me the sheet which, as I already know, shows that the Kings are hemorrhaging money.
We spend the majority of the day thinking of ideas, but despite the suggestions from Mama, I don’t think it’s enough. Unless the cash flow increases, there’s no way to feed and house this many people. It’s just not feasible.
“I need to stretch my legs,” I say, stretching my back and cracking my neck.
“Am I free to go find Slasher and get a good dicking?” she sasses, and I give her a thumbs up.
“You can go screw his brains out for all I care,” I giggle.
For the next two days, I don’t do much but obsess over the problem that’s been presented to me. I don’t know why I feel so responsible, or why I actually do want to solve the problem. Regardless of the reason, I do, and I want to. This affects everyone, myself included.
