Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Which means chin up, back straight, shoulders square, face fixed into my fuck-the-world stare, and one foot in front of the other.
The Lonely Cat leaks music the second I open the door. The place is dim and lit in reds and purples. The bouncer is a massive black guy and he barely glances at my ID, too busy staring at my tits to care how old I am, and he waves me inside.
The place is surprisingly nice. Or at least, it’s not as seedy as I expected. The floors are clean, the tables look well maintained, and it only smells a little bit like sweat and body glitter. The bar’s packed with people, almost entirely men though a few women are sprinkled in there, and a tired-looking white girl gyrates on the stage behind the bar. Further in, past more tables, a pretty black girl twirls around a pole on the main stage, her boobs barely contained in her top right until the moment she takes a deep breath and a button pops off, and the whole boob-contraption comes apart, revealing her naked chest and stiff nipples.
I’ve never been in a strip club in my entire life and my cheeks are burning pink, but I have to a job to do. I learned a while ago that standing around and staring and feeling bad won’t change anything.
I head up to the bar and stand at the end, ignoring the stares I get from several of the guys. The bartender is a pretty girl in a tight black outfit designed to draw attention to her massive chest. She grins at me and leans forward. “What can I get you?”
“Uh, I was wondering if Nolan is here tonight.”
Her grin fades away. “I don’t know anyone named Nolan. Are you drinking?”
“No, uh, I know this is Nolan’s place. I’m an old friend of his, I was hoping—”
“Like I said, lady, I don’t know any Nolan. Now you can either get drunk and shove some tips in Candy’s thong, or you can fuck off.” She turns away, her smile back, and approaches the nearest group of men.
I stand there dumbfounded, not sure what to do.
I’m absolutely sure Nolan owns this place. I asked around and basically mortified myself trying to find out everything about him I can. I stalked his social media, questioned old mutual friends, even called up a few people I haven’t spoken to in a while trying to track him down, and everyone pointed at the Lonely Cat. They all said Nolan comes here every Saturday night, but I don’t see him at the tables or in any of the booths, and anyway, if he owns it I doubt he’d be sitting on the floor.
Which means I might be screwed.
“Hello, darling.” My head snaps up and a man’s leaning against the bar beside me. His name hits me like a kick to the chest: Eric Wanes, Nolan’s best friend and second-in-command. He’s tall with close-cropped hair, dark tan skin, and a nice smile. He’s handsome, muscular, and tattoos poke out from under his white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. My heart starts racing the second his wicked grin stares down at me “I heard you were looking for Nolan.”
“Uh,” I say and quickly get myself together. “Is he here? Can you tell him I want to see him?”
“I haven’t seen you in a long time, Cora Stone,” he says and leans closer. “This might be a cliché, but what’s a nice girl like you doing asking for a man like Nolan? Especially after all the shit that happened back in the day.”
“We’re still old friends,” I say, keeping my chin up. I know men like Eric, I’ve met them my whole life. He’ll smile and smile and smile even while he’s driving the knife into my chest, and I can’t let his disarming charm make me relax. I’m in a dangerous place asking for dangerous people, and even if I could call Nolan my friend a long time ago, things have changed a lot since then. And I was never close with Eric. I only ever knew him from a distance.
“Nolan doesn’t have any old friends. You must be confused right now, little girl. Why don’t you run along back home?”
“Call me little girl again and I’ll knee you so hard you never smile straight the rest of your life. Little boy.” I grin sweetly, sweating and trembling slightly, but I can’t let him see how terrified I am right now.
He laughs like he’s truly delighted. “All right, Cora Stone. I’ll tell him you’re here. If he’s interested in seeing you, that’s great, but if he’s not then I’m going to drag you out of here myself and we’ll see who ends up hurt. You understand?”
“Go tell him,” I say, not backing down from a stupid threat.