Page 42 of Heart Of A Goon II

Women and men crowded into this lounge because they were desperate to belong. They wanted to be looked at as someone, and belonging to a high-priced lounge that served watered down drinks was the price.

Fern was considered a hole in the wall compared to this place, and we served good drinks. The drinks at Fern would have put this place to shame. I could end up on my ass with two drinks there. Here, I would need to be drinking all night to feel a little something.

“Yes. It keeps them ordering more drinks,” she continued to explain, her green eyes sparkling as she put the dish rag on the counter.

I smiled and pushed the drink towards her. “Are they cheap with the cranberry juice?”

“I got you.” She took the glass and went to make me a virgin drink.

It was an insult to drink a cranberry juice with how good I looked tonight. I wore an oversized leather blazer; light washed jeans and a pair of Louboutin heels that killed me to walk in. Capri told me they were her favorite heels, and seeing as she pranced around in court in them all day, I was starting to see why both she and Blaze were a match made in heaven.

My wash and set had seen better days, but nothing a little dry shampoo and prayer couldn’t fix. I ran my hand through the curls I had put in them earlier. Mama, her wooden brush and blow dryer never steered me wrong. I just wished she was here to assist in helping with my hair tonight.

This was where you came if you wanted to spend time with a Haven’s List girl. A modern-day saloon, if you asked me. I watched as the men checked in with the front before finding their spot for the night. Some crowded the bar, begging for the watered-down drinks, while others took a quiet seat in the corner, keeping an eye.

Most of them were married men who needed a release from everyday life. The kids, nagging wife, and then the stress from work. It was easier to slide into this discreet lounge and have your pick of the pussy.

Corleon: Just entered.

I looked up from my phone at the same time Preston Vance showed his face. Corleon didn’t have to give me a heads up, because his face had been plastered all over the media. I could point him out in a line-up with my eyes covered.

There was no denying that this man was handsome, and he knew it. Men were always dangerous when they knew they were fine. I would know, I married one, had two children by him, and he was still dangerous.

Preston had deep brown skin, sharp features, and dark eyes. His eyes held a calm intensity that lured women in. Preston probably never had to raise his voice to make a point. Whenever he spoke, people listened and held onto his every word. Some may have tried to scoop up his words before they even left his mouth.

I was certain he had the thickest curliest hair as a child. With the way his waves sat neatly in his hair, it looked like he had an old school stylist give him finger waves. His beard was thick and perfectly groomed. Even married and an older woman, I wasn’t blind. Those pink lips stuck out from his beard, and that was what got the women.

His broad shoulders and muscular arms filled out the tailored suit, making it clear that fitness wasn’t a casual hobby for him. You didn’t get a body like his without having discipline.

From the moment he stepped through the door, he jumped into action. From checking in with the perverts, to talking to some of the bartenders, as if he was reminding them not to go too heavy on the alcohol.

Who was I kidding? The men who entertained places like this weren’t looking to become drunk. They were here for one thing, and that was enough to make ‘em drunker than the watered-down drinks ever could.

Aside from a woman who entered earlier and headed towards the back, I was the only woman in the lounge. There were a few men down at the other end of the bar whispering among themselves, trying to figure out why I was here.

I opened my compact mirror as I listened to Preston. His cologne with hints of leather became closer, along with his voice.

“Everything all good?”

The man snorted, sounding like he slept with a C-Pap machine at night. “As good as it will get. Where’s the women?” the old impatient White man questioned.

“Patience, Castello.”

I couldn’t see him, but I imagine that he was rubbing his shoulder to calm the horny fucker. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks…not looking forward to this funeral.”

My ears were already perked when I heard him mention a funeral. “We’re all suffering his loss. Easy, tiger. I’m gonna have the girls take care of you tonight.”

I could tell from the way Preston kept trying to wrap the conversation up that he wanted to get away from him. However, the man continued to talk his ear off. From his name, I assumed he was some kin to that murdered judge who had been all over the news.

Well, what was left of him.

Preston had finally managed to wrap up the conversation and was heading my way. I put my mirror away and accepted the cranberry juice from the bartender. She didn’t have much conversation since Preston was on his way over here.

I sipped the drink, half expecting it to taste like the juice I made for my grandbabies. Little juice and a lot of water.

His scent greeted me before he did.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as fine as you around.”