Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Z doesn’t take the bait, just moves on. “First things first. Grip, Brew—welcome back to the table.”
Grip grins. “Good to be home, Prez!” He slaps his palms against the table like an overexcited toddler. Brew follows, drumming his hands on the edge.
Z barely gives them a glance. “Try to keep the excitement to a minimum.”
Grinder snorts. “That’s a big ask.”
Z covers club business: the laundromat break-in, our dirty cop’s latest updates, the usual. Then he finally circles to the porn empire.
And Stella.
He sweeps a hand toward Rooster, who’s sitting next to him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Rooster, why don’t you share with the club what had you squawking in my ear late last night?”
I bite my lip and tuck my chin to my chest to hide my laughter. Rooster’s glare snaps to Z, but Prez is completely unbothered.
Rooster elbows me as he sits forward, a printout of Stella’s email clenched in his fist, and sweeps his gaze up and down our long table. “Stella has a request for money.” He throws a cranky look Z’s way. “I know how much you’re going to love this, Prez.”
“Stop fucking around,” Z grumbles, already exasperated. “Share her brilliant deviance so we can get it over with, please.”
“She wants to…” Rooster closes his eyes and silently retches.
“Now, now. Don’t be so judgmental,” Butcher scolds, wagging his finger between Z and Rooster. “Aren’t you two always saying she’s the club’s most profitable asset?”
“No. She’s our biggest pain in the asset,” Hustler corrects. He lifts his chin at Rooster. “Why’d she email you, anyway? I’m the money guy.”
“That’s what I said,” I mutter.
Rooster shrugs. “Probably because I handle all her website stuff. I’ll be more than happy to send her your way for this fuckery next time.” He throws a stink-eye at Z. “She assumes I’m her club point-of-contact now that you’re wifed up and won’t take her calls.”
Z’s dimpled grin holds zero apologies. “Sorry about that, brother.”
“No you’re not.” Rooster laughs.
“Uh, she looped me in as well.” I raise my hand. “And I would like to officially unsubscribe, please.”
“Aw.” Butcher makes a kissy face at me from across the table. “What’s wrong, your pretty little girlfriend get mad that a hot porn star emails you in the middle of the night?”
“Shut the fuck up about my ol’ lady.” I lean forward. “She doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Rooster snorts. “Amen. The fewer people who know, the better.”
Loud banging vibrates against the table. I turn toward the far end where Grip and Brew are drumming their palms against the edge, drowning out any conversation.
“What’s the porn proposal?” Grip shouts like an impatient three-year-old. “We wanna hear it noooow!”
“Settle the fuck down,” Grinder snaps.
“You two need a snack and a nap or somethin’?” Eazy asks.
“Come on. It sounds like it’s gonna be good,” Brew says. “We wanna hear it.”
Rooster shakes his head. “I assure you, it’s not good.” He focuses his stare on our two rowdy brothers until they’re quiet, then stands.
“Christ, you need to stand for this?” Z mutters.
Rooster spreads his hands wide. “Give me a break, Prez.” He glances at the pages spread out on the table. The last one’s covered with his blocky handwriting. “She wants to ‘expand’ on her current genre of meeting up with one or two randos in a hotel to film them fucking.”
Z sits forward, eyes narrowed. “Expand, meaning what?”
“Well, Prez.” Rooster throws him a disgusted scowl. “Meaning expand. She wants to…” He scrubs a hand over his face like he needs to physically cleanse himself before saying it.
“We’re not gettin’ any younger, Rooster, spit it out,” Grinder says.
“Some of us more than others,” I mutter loud enough for Grinder to hear.
“Keep it up, you ain’t gonna get any older.”
I grin at him. Grinder’s so fun to provoke sometimes.
Rooster stares at the paper like he’s contemplating setting it on fire with the power of his eyeballs. “She wants to put out an open casting call—for one hundred guys.” He glances down at the papers again. “No, I’m sorry. One hundred and one.”
Silence.
Hustler blinks. “To do what?”
“To fuck her. On camera.” Rooster slides his hands through the air in a conveyor belt gesture. “All in one day.”
Grip and Brew explode into cheers, banging on the table again like drunk frat bros.
“Settle the fuck down!” Grinder snaps.
“Wait.” Hustler waves his hand at Rooster. “Is that even possible? Time-wise?”
I stare at him. “Aren’t you our numbers guy?”
“Gives every guy about fourteen minutes with her if she takes the full twenty-four hours and about seven if she wants to do it in twelve,” Eazy announces.
“Seven minutes in heaven.” Grip holds his hands up toward the ceiling.
Suds side-eyes Eazy. “You couldn’t break a ten at the laundromat the other day, but sex math you can do?”
“Everyone has their talents.” Eazy flashes a middle finger at Suds.