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Speaking of nice racks.
I turn my attention back to the gorgeous girl who has been serving us beer for the past hour.
“Thought you had a girl back home.” Madz eyes me suspiciously.
She’s a club girl with KOAMC. The mood I’m in, trying to forget about my problems with Ember and the fact she’s here with fucking Creed, has me thinking maybe a move to a new club wouldn’t be a bad thing.
I cap a palm to my neck. “Not anymore.”
“You wouldn’t lie to a girl, would you?”
“Not in my nature.”
“Hmm.” She purses her red lips at me, swirling her straw around her drink as she leans forward on the bar, showing off her ample cleavage.
“What time do you get off?”
“That depends on you.”
“I can work pretty damn fast.” I grin and she smiles.
“My shift ends in twenty.”
“Perfect.”
Hound resumes his post watching Murder’s back and I make a date with a sassy little thing and her perky tits.
“How long you plan on sticking around, Smoke?” Madz, goes up on an elbow on the floor of my tent.
“You know the score. Be here till the end of the rally, then head back east.” Face my life choices. My latest fuckup. My thoughts shift to Ember and the pain laced in her voice when she walked up on me with my cock shoved down Angel’s throat. And how she’s been smiling on Creed’s arm and riding on the back of his bike this past week.
“I think we’re riding back to Arkansas in a day or two.” She yawns and I don’t want to be a dick and kick her out, but I got what I wanted and now I’m over this flirtation. “Penny for your thoughts. You look like you’re a million miles away right now.”
“I screwed up.”
“Want to talk about it? I can give you a non-biased female perspective.”
“Hmm,” I mumble. “You sure you want to hear my problems?”
“Good thing for you I don’t charge by the hour,” she teases. “Try me. It has to be better than my current situation.”
“What’s got you so fucked up?”
“I’ll never have the man I’m in love with.”
“Why? He married or something?” I shift from my side to my back, adjusting my lump of dirty clothes that’s serving as my current pillow.
“I’m a club girl. You know the score.”
“Stranger things have happened.” I wet my lips, staring at the dome ceiling of the tent where someone stuck glow in the dark star stickers. “Which one is he?”
“Gray. The Vice President.”
We share a knowing look. High-ranking club officers rarely make ol’ ladies of clubwhores. Especially not the VP.
“What can I say? I aim high.” She gets this sad, far off look in her eyes. One I know I can’t be the one to fix. She knows it too.
“Tough lot, sweetheart.”
