casino hopping this weekend. I’m gonna look just like the rest of these muffler bunnies that hang out in this shit hole. At least I wore tennis shoes on the way here. I don’t wanna be walking around in this club with nine-inch heels on. I grab my little black strapless dress and slip my feet in my white converse. I don’t bother with makeup because I’m stuck here and my best friend has been frigging shot.
Edging slowly down the stairs, I hear tons of voices. This is lovely. I try pulling my dress up more, but it’s no use. Right now I’m wishing what I wore yesterday didn’t stink with sweat. Just because I dance, and I’m naked most of my nights doesn’t mean I like bitty bopping around in nothing when I’m off work. Every woman deserves to dress up for dinner, girls nights out and even casino prowling, but I’ll be damned if I wanna look like a free meal for these guys.
I find Lana sitting at the bar with a sling on. Looks like the good doctor on their payroll did an excellent job because she’s laughing at something one of the prospects is whispering to her.
“Hey slut, you scared me this morning,” I mumble.
Her stoned eyes move to mine. I know she feels guilty for getting shot, but it wasn’t her fault. Lana is the only one who knows everything, and I mean every single detail of my past life.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers rubbing my arm with her uninjured hand.
“It’s not your fault. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot,” she murmurs. “But I’m so high I could probably fly like a kite.”
“Good meds?”
“Indeed,” she giggles.
“I let it slip… I told them who I was. I was just so angry,” I whisper.
Lana whispers something quietly to the prospect. He leaves us, opening up a bar stool and I take a seat.
“Your family is on the other side of the United States babe; it’ll be okay, and if not, I’ll run with you.”
I’m choked up with emotions because I know she would run with me. She was orphaned when she was just seventeen years old. She received a trust fund when she turned twenty-one. She dances only because she loves to dance like I do. I don’t know why I would doubt myself about asking her if she would leave with me. She’s my other half.
“You’re not gonna have to run anywhere,” Pyro says bluntly from beside us. Where the hell did he come from?
“Your family name is just known. Ain’t no one gonna know but the Prez and me. Alright?”
“Pyro this is serious. You don’t know the kind of shit she’s running from,” Lana scolds.
He looks at my best friend with that sexy smirk of his, and I admit that even though there is no chemistry between Pyro and me, I would totally swoon and suck his toes if I were desperate for a lay.
“C’mon beauties, let me introduce you to the club.”
There are so many people in here I don’t think I’ll ever remember their names. It’s not as if I need to anyway. Their voices carry as they drink and flirt nastily with some of the women who don’t look as if they’ve showered in ages. I feel the contents of my liquored gummy bears rising in my throat from the knowing knowledge of these guys, especially Braxxon, sticking their cocks anywhere near these bitches. I seriously need to make an appointment as soon as possible. I shudder, and I feel like running to the nearest grocery store to buy a bottle of bleach and a squirt bottle. Sure sounds painful, but I’m absolutely contemplating it.
“Gross,” I mutter.
Pyro chuckles and shakes his head. If he weren’t such a cocky asshole living this kind of life, I could actually be friends with him. He seems to get me.
“Brothers, friends and whores, I’d like you to meet Star and Hazel. Hazel and Star, meet the club.” He nods.
“Fresh pussy,” yells a man who looks to be in his forties.
“Claimed pussy,” Pyro says simply.
See, women are just walking vaginas to these assholes. But I appreciate Pyro speaking as if we’re off limits.
Edging slowly down the stairs, I hear tons of voices. This is lovely. I try pulling my dress up more, but it’s no use. Right now I’m wishing what I wore yesterday didn’t stink with sweat. Just because I dance, and I’m naked most of my nights doesn’t mean I like bitty bopping around in nothing when I’m off work. Every woman deserves to dress up for dinner, girls nights out and even casino prowling, but I’ll be damned if I wanna look like a free meal for these guys.
I find Lana sitting at the bar with a sling on. Looks like the good doctor on their payroll did an excellent job because she’s laughing at something one of the prospects is whispering to her.
“Hey slut, you scared me this morning,” I mumble.
Her stoned eyes move to mine. I know she feels guilty for getting shot, but it wasn’t her fault. Lana is the only one who knows everything, and I mean every single detail of my past life.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers rubbing my arm with her uninjured hand.
“It’s not your fault. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot,” she murmurs. “But I’m so high I could probably fly like a kite.”
“Good meds?”
“Indeed,” she giggles.
“I let it slip… I told them who I was. I was just so angry,” I whisper.
Lana whispers something quietly to the prospect. He leaves us, opening up a bar stool and I take a seat.
“Your family is on the other side of the United States babe; it’ll be okay, and if not, I’ll run with you.”
I’m choked up with emotions because I know she would run with me. She was orphaned when she was just seventeen years old. She received a trust fund when she turned twenty-one. She dances only because she loves to dance like I do. I don’t know why I would doubt myself about asking her if she would leave with me. She’s my other half.
“You’re not gonna have to run anywhere,” Pyro says bluntly from beside us. Where the hell did he come from?
“Your family name is just known. Ain’t no one gonna know but the Prez and me. Alright?”
“Pyro this is serious. You don’t know the kind of shit she’s running from,” Lana scolds.
He looks at my best friend with that sexy smirk of his, and I admit that even though there is no chemistry between Pyro and me, I would totally swoon and suck his toes if I were desperate for a lay.
“C’mon beauties, let me introduce you to the club.”
There are so many people in here I don’t think I’ll ever remember their names. It’s not as if I need to anyway. Their voices carry as they drink and flirt nastily with some of the women who don’t look as if they’ve showered in ages. I feel the contents of my liquored gummy bears rising in my throat from the knowing knowledge of these guys, especially Braxxon, sticking their cocks anywhere near these bitches. I seriously need to make an appointment as soon as possible. I shudder, and I feel like running to the nearest grocery store to buy a bottle of bleach and a squirt bottle. Sure sounds painful, but I’m absolutely contemplating it.
“Gross,” I mutter.
Pyro chuckles and shakes his head. If he weren’t such a cocky asshole living this kind of life, I could actually be friends with him. He seems to get me.
“Brothers, friends and whores, I’d like you to meet Star and Hazel. Hazel and Star, meet the club.” He nods.
“Fresh pussy,” yells a man who looks to be in his forties.
“Claimed pussy,” Pyro says simply.
See, women are just walking vaginas to these assholes. But I appreciate Pyro speaking as if we’re off limits.
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