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“Are you getting paid for extra work?” I asked her.
“Of course. I wouldn’t move my pinky finger for him if he didn’t pay me.”
“Good, then,” I said and rolled my shoulders to cool off my body.
“Why were you dancing without music?”
“I got used to it, thanks to Mike,” I rolled my eyes.
“Hey, girls! Are we still up for tomorrow?” Salem came next to us.
“Right! Violet, you’re not ditching us for your guys I hope.” Harley teased me while wiggling her eyebrows.
“Her guys? What’s that mean?” Salem asked.
“We’re still up for tomorrow, of course. I’ve invited you all, remember?” I jumped into the conversation and winked at them.
“About guys…I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?” I said to Salem.
“That sounds juicy. I’m already excited for girls’ night, then.”
“Is it time to chit-chat, ladies?” Mike said tersely as soon as he stepped into the saloon from the back door.
Harley muttered “bastard,” barely loud enough for us to hear. I frowned before I could help myself when I saw he wave at me. I didn’t like how his eyes roamed over my body. It was different than a simple checking out. I felt like a prey.
“Will you dance, Violet? Move and I’ll make a playlist,” he said.
“I’ve already practiced. I came in early this evening,” I said to him and he lifted his thumb up to me.
“It’s about time to open the club. Let’s get ready everyone, shall we?” Harley said and I was glad for the excuse to leave the stage.
“He thinks himself as a boss. I have no idea why Will is putting up with his shit.” Salem complained, whispering as we walked toward the dressing room. I turned my head slightly to check if Mike heard anything, just in case.
“Will doesn’t like him but Mike is really good at what he’s doing. He has to, I think.” Harley answered Salem but she didn’t sound convinced, either.
I followed them in silence but got distracted when I noticed Sage walking toward us.
“Hi, Sage! You didn’t forget about tomorrow, right?”
She looked at me and smiled sweetly. Almost motherly.
“I’ll be there, Violet,” she said and headed to the room.
When I heard the ring tone, I stopped walking.
“What’s wrong?” Salem asked to me.
“Nothing, just my phone,” I said and opened my mailbox.
*This truck hasn’t been in an accident for fifteen years. It doesn’t even have a parking ticket. Good to go. Drive safely.*
Mail was from Kevin.
No accident. Mike lied about his scar, about accident. But why?
I felt the shiver ran through my body. It was that same feeling whenever I felt like I was being watched. I looked around and saw only Mike on his DJ platform.
I checked the time. The doors would be open in thirty minutes. I didn’t have time to worry about Mike or his truck. I postponed thinking about it until after the show and headed to the dressing room.
