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“Fine, but we’ll have a real conversation about your attitude next time I see you!” I heard Cal on the other side.
“No. Wait.” I dumped Kieran’s limp body on the floor, scrambling up to my feet, stumbling to the door. “Wait. Don’t go.”
Kieran lay on the floor, shaking his head and chuckling.
I threw the door open. Cal’s big blue eyes flared at the sight of my beaten-up face. She peered over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Fuckface lying in a pool of his own blood. Her mouth slacked.
“Don’t worry, Cal. This was a therapeutic session.” Kieran gave her a little wave behind me. “Everything is under control.”
“Completely consensual.” I forced out a grin. Shit, he had given me a black eye. I could feel it swelling. “Need anything, baby?”
I was calling her baby now, while my dick wasn’t shoved in one of her holes. Rhy was right: I was a goner, and the place I was headed to was right into a deep depression when she bailed on my ass.
“Hmm, I came in early to help Rhyland do some filing…” She trailed off, still looking unsure. “And ended up scrubbing puke off the toilet floor because Katie has food poisoning. Been doing that for thirty minutes.”
Who the fuck was Katie?
“Your maître d’.” Cal frowned, as if reading my thoughts. “She’s been working here since the day you opened.” Eh.
“Poor Dot.” I tugged her by the shirt, wrapping her in a hug. “Next time let me know and I’ll send someone else to clean that up.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She frowned.
“Never been better.”
“Cool. So…whose dick do I have to suck to get a margarita around here?” She sniffled into my shirt.
Kieran and I answered in unison.
“Mine,” I growled.
“His.” He swallowed. He scraped himself off my floor, limping his way past my door while keeping his distance from Cal. He was bleeding all over my engineered hardwood. “See you later, folks. Enjoy one another.”
Maybe Fuckface wasn’t so bad after all.
CAL
oBITCHuary: What’s your favorite fantasy?
McMonster: You, taking it from behind while I fuck you so hard against my chef station your pelvic bones almost snap.
oBITCHuary: Dirtiest fantasy?
McMonster: Same thing, but we accidentally spill lukewarm bone broth all over ourselves. That shit stinks.
McMonster: Your turn.
oBITCHuary: You, fucking me in a recording room.
McMonster: Into it. Why a recording room?
oBITCHuary: Because that means that I’ve made it.
CAL
“Doll Parts”—Hole
Row fed me brown sugar mooncakes and passionfruit margaritas my entire shift, which was lovely, because the place was so busy, I definitely needed the pick-me-up. We all did, to be honest, which was why I snuck some of the margaritas to other servers and busboys each time I made a pit stop in the kitchen.
