Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“I’ll cover the champagne rooms,” Ravage offers, as if it’s a completely selfless act. “Tonight, I mean.” He glances at me. “Unless you’re setting up a champagne room at your wedding?”
I shoot a glare that wipes the smile off his face.
“Yeah, that’s a hard no, Rav.” Dex shakes his head. “I need you on the floor. Wrath, will you take the champagne rooms?”
Heh. At least Wrath got roped into this too. He hates hanging out at Crystal Ball more than I do.
“You sure about that?” Wrath lifts his eyebrows. “’Cause I’m in a mood tonight. A customer gives me lip, I might shove him through a wall.”
Dex shuts his eyes and slowly inhales through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth. Must’ve borrowed one of Rock’s breathing tricks to stop himself from murdering us when we piss him off. “Yes. Your terrifying face should make anyone think twice about breaking the rules.”
Wrath, naturally, takes that as a compliment. “You owe me,” he says to Rock. Then he lifts his chin at me. “I can help you in the mornings this week too.”
“Thanks.” I glance at Rock, still feeling annoyed about this. “Z’s only two hours away, why not tag him in? He knows CB in and out.”
“He’s got his own club to run.” Rock tilts his head. “Do you need an ass kicking? Because we can go outside and I’ll beat that disrespectful attitude out of you and then send you to work at Crystal Ball for the night. Or you can just do what I fucking asked you to do and quit running your mouth.”
“Fuck! I already said yes.”
Wrath points at me, then Rock. “You two need a little daddy-son bonding time? Wanna go out back and toss around a football or something?”
“I’m gonna toss something around in a minute,” Rock growls, glaring at me.
“All right. Relax.” Murphy holds out his hands, one in Rock’s direction and one in mine. “I get why you don’t want to be there, bro. But that’s what the club needs tonight. Birch and Hoot are downstate, so we’re short on bodies.”
Ignoring the deft way Murphy’s trying to mediate between Rock and me, I nod to Dex. “It’s been a while. I might be rusty.”
“Just stand there and look scary. You see anyone put hands on the girls, discourage them once. Second time, throw them out.”
I hope a motherfucker gives me a reason tonight. Like Wrath, I’m in a mood.
“Remy promised to come help out this weekend,” Dex says. “I gotta train him and show him around the place a few times before I’ll trust him on his own, though.”
“About time they start putting the support in support club,” Wrath says.
Murphy sits forward. “They’ve helped us out a lot. Christ, Grinder’s had them landscaping Serena’s friend’s yard for fuck’s sake. What more do you want?”
Wrath rolls his eyes, as if landscaping isn’t in the support club description.
“We’ve been leaning on them a lot. And they’ve come through every time,” I add, agreeing with Murphy. “That’s a long ride for Remy. He got anyone coming with him?” I ask Dex.
“Griff will do it.” Dex’s lips quirk. “Eraser and Vapor, not so much.”
“Pussy whipped.” Ravage grins. “But I get it. Ella and Juliet are cute as hell.”
“Juliet’s like my niece, you clown,” Dex seethes. “Watch yourself.”
“I said she’s cute, not that I wanted to—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Dex warns.
Rav wisely shuts his mouth.
“All right.” Rock slaps the table. “We good?”
Everyone says yes and Rock lets us go.
Except me.
“Stop right there.” Rock stands, blocking my path.
Murphy’s halfway to the door but he stops and reverses direction.
“Not you,” Rock says.
“Nah, Prez.” Murphy crosses his arms over his chest. “I think your VP should stick around for this conversation.”
I don’t dare laugh.
“What’s with you?” Rock asks me.
“Nothing. I just fucking hate spending time there, that’s all.”
“Club. First.” Rock enunciates each word slowly. “Or did you forget that?”
It’s not even a business the club needs any more. I bite my tongue to stop myself from expressing that opinion. As I get older, I like to think I’ve learned when to share my thoughts and when to keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately, I fail at it more often than I want to admit.
“Is Crystal Ball still good for the club?” There, that’s more diplomatic.
Rock stares at me.
Shit, did I actually leave him speechless?
Murphy lets out a long, shrill whistle. “He’s got a point.”
“Does he?” Rock asks.
Murphy runs his hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
Rock turns to me. “Do we or do we not still wash the cash from selling Sparky’s crops through CB?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “We do. We also wash it through Furious.”
“On paper, we sell enough protein powder to leave a herd of elephants constipated,” Murphy confirms.
Rock stares at him for a long moment. “Thanks for the visual.”