HIS GIN AND JUICE

by Alexx Andria

  "Welcome to the Little Black Dress, what can I get you?"

  "I'd like a little of your time but I'll settle for a shot of Jameson."

  "A whiskey man," she murmured with the slightest hint of appreciation. "Just a single?"

  "Trying to get me drunk so you can have your wicked way with me?" Lars returned with a charming smile. "All right, make it a double."

  She smiled a little more broadly, saying, "You got it" before leaving to get his drink order. She hadn't blinked an eye at his attempt at playful humor and she hadn't engaged him either when other girls might've played along a little bit more. She was pure business. Damn, he liked that. Something about the challenge, he supposed.

  Nothing — and no one — challenged him these days.

  Life had become so fucking dull.

  Seemed petulant to whine about having anything and anyone at your fingertips but his life had become a never-ending film reel of the same experiences over and over.

  He wanted someone who didn't give two shits about his money or his influence and definitely didn't care to indulge his every whim.

  Was Kennedy that person? He didn't know but there was only one way to find out.

  Kennedy returned with his drink order and he tipped her well enough to be respectable but not extravagantly because he knew she'd see right through that tactic. He wasn't going to delude himself into thinking that others hadn't tried but he also knew enough about someone like Kennedy to know that she'd find that strategy distasteful, even as she pocketed the money.

  A fool and his money were often parted, went the saying, right? He imagined Kennedy had no problem separating a fool and his cash.

  The night wore on and he slowly nursed his alcohol, giving him a chance to fully dedicate his attention to Kennedy but when he was approached by eager women, he didn't turn them away. However, he kept part of his attention riveted to Kennedy even as he entertained the bevy of pretty ladies vying for his attention.

  By closing time, he was purposefully alone. As he knew she would, Kennedy came to close his tab, which he did with a quick scrawl of his name on the charge slip. However, he gave Kennedy cash for the end of the night and this time, he gave her a fat tip.

  She smiled and pocketed the cash. "You've already tipped me well all night. You didn't have to do that," she said.

  "I don't mind tipping well for excellent service," he said, shrugging, enjoying her attention. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Sure," she answered with a wary smile. "What would you like to know?"

  "I'm wondering what the odds are if I were to ask for your number that you'd give it to me."

  Kennedy affected a sad pout as she said, "Not in your favor."

  "No?"

  "Sorry. I don't date patrons."

  "That's a tragedy."

  She shrugged. "Just a policy that keeps things clean."

  "For someone as beautiful as you, I imagine, that's a real problem."

  She laughed. "Points for flattery but the answer is still no."

  "May I ask...why?"

  "Have you ever heard of the saying, 'Don't shit where you eat'?"

  He chuckled at her blunt humor. "Yes."

  "Well, then you can understand where I'm coming from. Besides, don't get me wrong you're handsome, but you're really not my type."

  That was new. He was every woman's type. "Now you've really caught my interest. I gotta say...not very often I get told that."

  Kennedy laughed at my comment. "Really? Hmm...guess there's a first time for everything."

  "I guess so."

  She shifted on her feet. After running around in heels all night, he suspected her feet were killing her. Heels, after all, he'd been told numerous times, were made for men, not women's pleasure.

  "As much as I enjoy this scintillating conversation...it's closing time. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here," she ended with a sweet smile.

  "You need someone to treat you right. Someone to pamper you."

  She barked a laugh. "And you think you're that guy? Sorry, you're not the first and probably not the last to make those sweet promises but I'm not looking for a sugar daddy. Thanks though."

  That last part felt more like a bone tossed to a dog for being a "good boy" than a genuine statement, as if his ego needed the stroke. He didn't fault her for it though. Wealthy men were notoriously thin-skinned.

  Lars slid a business card across the table. "Name your price," he threw out there, bold as fuck. Hell, life was about taking chances, not sitting safely on the sideline.

  Kennedy did a double take. "Price for what?"

  "Your company."

  Her smile cooled. "Unlike your previous companion, I'm not a working girl."

  She'd noticed. He didn't know whether to be embarrassed or impressed. Still, Lars tapped the card lightly and said, "If you change your mind...you know how to find me."

  Kennedy smirked but just when he thought she was going to tell him to fuck off, she pocketed the business card before giving him her beautiful backside.

  Now he was even more intrigued. Maybe he was addicted to the chase. He was the fox and she was the rabbit — and the race had just begun.

  Kennedy knew the minute Lars had left the bar. Not because she'd been watching but somehow she'd felt his energy leave. Weird, yes, but nonetheless true.

  And Kennedy wasn't into that woo-woo shit but somethings were hard to ignore.

  Like the way her heart sped up the minute their eyes locked. Or the way her belly trembled when that intense stare spoke volumes even when he hadn't said a word.

  Yeah, yeah, all that stuff that she wanted to avoid? She was feeling with Lars.

  Lars, actually, according to his business card, his name was Lazarus. Like the Bible guy that rose from the dead. Creepy? Not sure. Was that his real name? If so, he couldn't control how his parents decided to name him but if that was a name of his choosing — had he risen from the ashes of some personal calamity to claim a new identity?

  Argh.

  And what was with that offer of his? Kennedy wasn't lying when she said she wasn't looking for a sugar daddy but sometimes she wished her morals weren't so inflexible because damn, she could really use some pampering right now.

  Maximo always expected his girls to be on point — hair and nails done — but he didn't provide an allowance to make those little extras happen, which meant they came out of her pocket.

  Sadly, right now, her pocket was empty.

  Contrary to what people might believe with the "$10 steak dinner" casinos liked to throw out there to get bodies in their establishments, living in Sin City wasn't cheap.

  But the people were.

  That was the thing that had shocked Kennedy after moving here. Of course, she'd been a bit of a country bumpkin, fresh off the bus, eyes sparkling with hope and naive faith, but Vegas had quickly beaten that out of her.

  Now, she was as hard as the rest of them, just trying to save up enough money to blow this STD-riddled town as fast as she could.

  She missed home but her daddy was gone and it just wouldn't feel the same without him so she had no idea where she wanted to go — she just knew she didn't want to be here anymore.

  If only it didn't feel like she'd never escape.

  She made decent money at the LBD, tips were always flowing, but it was never quite enough to bank for the grand exit that she wanted.

  Kennedy flipped the business card over on her fingers, her mind going places she couldn't believe. Curiosity was human nature, right? She wasn't committing to anything by entertaining his pitch. Likely, she'd turn him down, anyway, but she was intrigued by his offer.

  Tucking the card discreetly into her bra, she returned to finishing her closing duties so she could bail but even as she finished and clocked out her thoughts were no clearer than they were from the start.

  At this moment, she really wished she had friends she could talk to about this but she hadn't been very social with anyone since moving to Vegas and her
friends back home...well, they had normal, regular lives and there's no way they'd understand her dilemma.

  Worse, they'd probably judge her pretty hard for even entertaining the option.

  What was she really entertaining, though? Was she willing to have sex with Lars if that was part of the deal?

  Of course, it was part of the deal.

  Dumb question.

  So, if that being true, was she willing?

  Kennedy worried her bottom lip, caught between outright shutting such thoughts down and letting her imagination wander down dark corridors.

  It'd been awhile since she'd had sex. Just being real. And she missed it.

  A groan slipped past her lips as she passed the bar and the bartender, Michael, overheard her.

  "Everything okay?" he asked, causing her to stop.

  Michael was hot — Maximo didn't hire anyone who didn't have some kind of physical appeal — but definitely not her type so she'd never been tempted to mix business with pleasure but she really could use an objective opinion right now.

  "Yeah, just caught between a 'should I' or 'shouldn't I' moment."

  "I hate those," he said, grinning as he wiped down the bar. "Maybe I can help."

  "Not sure," Kennedy hedged with a small grin. "Promise not to judge me?"

  "I'm a bartender...I don't judge."

  "Bullshit. Bartenders are the judgiest SOB's I've ever known," Kennedy retorted with good nature. When Michael just shrugged with a knowing grin, she knew he was cool. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get a guy's perspective. "Okay, if I tell you, you have to promise to keep it between us. Can you do that?"

  "Only one way to find out."

  Kennedy gave him a sardonic look and he laughed before promising, "Scout's honor. Whatever is shared...stays right here."

  She supposed that was as good a promise as she was going to get and drew a deep breath before going for it. "Okay, so there was this guy tonight in my section..."

  "Let me guess...Lazarus James," Michael supplied.

  Kennedy nodded, surprised. "You know him?" she asked.

  "No, I heard Max talking to him the other night. From what I could tell, the guy's loaded. I'm talking oil-baron-rich, the kind of rich that can buy islands just for shits and giggles. He interested in you?"

  Kennedy thought of the business card tucked in her bra. "Um, I'm not sure. Maybe? What else do you know about him aside from the fact that he's filthy rich?"

  Michael shrugged. "He tips well."

  That Kennedy knew. She had a thousand dollars extra in her possession thanks to his generosity. "He seems nice, right?"

  "Nice is subjective. How does he seem to you?"

  She nodded slowly, affirming, perhaps more to herself, "Nice."

  "Did he ask you out on a date or something?"

  "Something like that."

  "Well, all I can say is, no matter how nice someone seems, protect yourself."

  Kennedy nodded and pushed away from the bar, ready to go home. She never thought she might entertain something like Lars' offer but it would be nice to have options again.

  Options that to this point had been unavailable.

  "Thanks Michael," she said, waving.

  "Anytime, Gin and Juice."

  Kennedy laughed, amused that he remembered her favorite drink.

  Yeah, with that face, body and memory...Michael likely had zero issues getting laid.

  Now the question was she willing to do something totally out of character in order to get a little action — and a ticket out of this godforsaken town?

  She didn't have an answer...yet.

  Chapter Three

  Lars didn't bother hiding the smile when he heard Kennedy's voice on the other line. "Changed your mind?" he said, picturing a tiny frown on her exquisite face at his teasing. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

  "I'm not saying I'm agreeing to anything but I am curious as to what you had in mind."

  He had plenty in mind. Since leaving the bar last night he'd been thinking of all the ways he wanted to experience Kennedy and none were polite or PG. "Where should I pick you up?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

  "Hold on, I didn't say I was going to do anything with you but I'll admit, I'm curious."

  "Score one for snagging your curiosity. All right, how about this, I'll pick you up and we'll discuss terms."

  "Terms? Sounds like I'm applying for a bank loan."

  "How's your credit?"

  "Probably not good enough to get the best interest rate but not so bad that I can't get a high-interest credit card at my favorite department store," she retorted.

  He chuckled at her wry humor. "Credit cards suck. I'm old-fashioned and prefer cold, hard cash."

  Lars could hear the smile in her tone as she said, "Must be nice to be richer than God."

  "Yeah, except when the Big Guy has to come around asking for a loan...makes things awkward."

  Kennedy laughed outright, saying, "You're going to hell for that one."

  "For that and so much more, I reckon." He liked the sound of her voice. Now he could hear the subtle southern drawl clinging to the edge of her words and he found it adorable as fuck. "So what do you say? Want to walk on the wild side?"

  There was a slight pause before she answered, "Just so we're clear...I've never done this before and actually, I have no idea what we're actually discussing when you say 'terms' but it kinda makes me uncomfortable, like I'm selling myself or something so can we use different terminology?"

  Lars barked a genuine laugh at her squeamishness but he respected her ability to speak her mind. Damn, he couldn't remember the last time he was so intrigued by another human being, much less a woman.

  "What would like to call it?" he asked solicitously.

  "I don't know. Let's not call it anything."

  "Fine by me. I'll have a car pick you up and bring you to my hotel. I promise you, I won't do anything you aren't ready and willing to do. Does that sound agreeable?"

  He could almost see her biting her lip with indecision but when she finally agreed, he had to hold back the crow that threatened at his victory. She gave her address and he dispatched a car right away. He didn't want to waste a minute. The best part about extreme wealth was that he didn't need to suffer the inconveniences of average people.

  Within an hour, a short rap on his hotel door sent his heart leaping with anticipation and he had to force himself to walk leisurely to answer or else he'd look like an over-eager fool.

  Hard to actively seduce someone when you're drooling like a Saint Bernard.

  Was that sweat on his brow? He wiped at the moisture that was indeed collecting along his hairline and took a moment to compose himself before opening the door.

  There she was...as stunning in natural light as in the neon lights of LBD and frankly, he wasn't prepared for his own reaction.

  It was like being hit with a thunderbolt.

  Never in his life had he felt this struck by a woman. She was tall and curvy, her skin bright and clean, her eyes green as moss with a hint of vulnerability that tore at him in ways that made him want to collect her in his arms and keep her there forever.

  Holy shit. What was wrong with him?

  Lars always stayed in the penthouse. The luxury was something he failed to notice any longer but suddenly he saw his accommodations through Kennedy's eyes and it was intoxicating.

  "So this is how the other half live," she murmured, trying not to appear awestruck but her gaze gave her away. "It's freaking amazing. I mean, like wow."

  "Yeah? Glad you approve," he said, smiling, as he gestured for her to follow him to the living room. "Would you like something to drink?"

  She shook her head, her gaze still wandering the fine furnishings and opulent extravagance that Vegas was known for. Personally, he didn't care for the design style of this particular hotel but it was the best so he always booked it when he was in town. "It's not exactly my style but, still, really nice."

  "Yeah, it's not
my style either but I rarely stay in the city long enough to notice."

  "Such a jet-setter," Kennedy said with a small smile even as her gaze continued to wander the lushly appointed room. It was entertaining to watch Kennedy try to appear as if she wasn't impressed.

  Her stubbornness was hot — made him wonder what else made her dig in her heels.

  Kennedy sank into the white leather sofa, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt before meeting his gaze opposite her.

  "You're fucking beautiful," he admitted, still unsure of why Kennedy made him feel like a damn idiot boy whose balls hadn't dropped yet. He was used to being in charge, the one swinging the biggest dick but Kennedy disarmed him in ways that left him light-headed and unsure — and he liked it. "I didn't think it was possible but you're prettier in natural light than all done up in your LBD get up."

  She blushed. "I'm not much of a make up wearer in my daily life simply because I wear so much at work."

  To his eyes, she didn't need all that crap on her face anyway. He'd always found women who relied too heavily on outside influences to enhance their natural looks teemed with self-loathing and that was a problem he didn't have time to deal with.

  He liked women who knew their own worth.

  "Tell me about yourself," he said, interested in knowing more about the woman in front of him. "How'd you find yourself in Vegas?"

  "Um, well, I came to go to school but tuition was too high for a part time job to cut it and I had to choose between going to school and making a living. Not much of a choice when your options are slim."

  "So you dropped out of college and then got stuck here," he surmised.

  Kennedy risked a brief, chagrined smile as if embarrassed by the simple truth and nodded. "I consider it a win that I didn't turn to stripping," she quipped, flashing a short grin that he found adorable in its brave sarcasm. "I mean, I could've but shaking my bits for strangers just seemed more than my shredded dignity could handle."

  "No family?"

  "My daddy died last year. He was the only family I had left." She drew a deep breath, admitting, "It kills me that he died knowing I failed. He'd worked so hard to get me out of Tennessee and into a good college."