“It’s not that we can’t be friends anymore,” Julia had said as she looked at the floor, “it’s just that we’re both in really different places right now, Sarah.”
Just hearing her words stung, and that had been over a year ago. It had taken months for our friendship to feel normal again. With a heavy heart, I realized that even if I went to her for help now, she probably wouldn’t say yes. She couldn’t say yes; there was likely nothing that she could do. I sighed and tried not to resent her. Julia, my perfect friend, who somehow managed to come out on top, despite getting pregnant with no man. It was unbelievable how much our luck had shifted in the past couple of years. I thought back to my twenties, when I was convinced that turning thirty was the magic number.
News flash. It wasn’t.
The sun was starting to come up and I was still on the futon, in my tight outfit from the night before. All of the nights tending bar blurred together after a while, but that blond guy from the night before was too cute to forget about it. Even if he totally overstepped his boundaries with Roger. Shit, if I’d have known that I was going to get fired, I might have given him my number. Typical Sarah luck, I thought to myself. No wonder you’re falling head over tits right now.
Looking down, I adjusted my breasts in the uncomfortable corset. Suddenly, an idea sprang to mind. It probably wouldn’t work, but I had to give it a shot. With renewed enthusiasm, I chugged a cold mug of coffee and hopped in the shower. My stomach was turning from anxiety and the caffeine, and as I plunged my head under the water I tried to think about what I’d say. I had to beg for my job back. I hated begging, but it was the only thing I could possibly do. The wheels in my head started turning as I imagined myself in front of Tony, looking desperate. It made me feel horrible inside, but I knew I had to look as hot as possible. After the shower, I toweled off and slid into a pair of jean shorts and a black fringe crop-top. The jeans were so tight that I could feel my labia being squeezed whenever I moved my legs. In the crop top, my breasts looked perky and large. It had a keyhole neckline, and as I inspected myself in the mirror, I tugged the shirt down so more of my cleavage would be visible. After an application of dark liner and red lipstick, I was ready to go.
I knew the bar wouldn’t be open yet; it wasn’t even seven in the morning. Taking a deep breath, I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out to my car. In the early sunlight in that slutty outfit, I felt like I was screaming for attention. Some of the blinds in the apartment building opened and closed when I looked over. Normally, on any other day, I’d feel self-conscious. But now I just felt desperate.
I’d never gone to The Silk Aria during the day and I wasn’t surprised to see how dingy it looked from the outside. The dark green paint was starting to fleck off the windows and it was eerily silent. Cars drove past and honked at me; I ducked my face down so no one would see me. When I was standing in front of the employee entrance, I steeled my nerves and knocked on the door.
At first, no one came. Then I heard a patter of footsteps. When the door swung open, I saw a skinny little girl with frizzy red hair. I frowned. “I’m looking for Tony Giacomo,” I said. “Do you know him?”
The little girl blushed and giggled. “That’s my daddy,” she said proudly. “He’s inside!”
“Can I talk to him?” I squatted down and felt the jean shorts practically crawl inside my ass. “I really need to speak with him, if that’s possible.”
The little girl bit her lip and washed her muddy-hazel eyes all over me. “Okay!” she cried cheerfully, stepping back and allowing me access into the dark hallway. As she led me towards the back, I frowned. I didn’t know that Tony’d had a daughter.
“Daddy!” she cried. “This lady is here to talk to you. She looks important!”
I rolled my eyes. The kid couldn’t have been further from the truth. I heard Tony say something under his breath and tell her to wait in his office. Soon, his footsteps pounded on the floor and he came over to me. He was wearing a plain t-shirt and a stained pair of chinos and it smelled like paint; guiltily I wondered if there was something important I was taking him away from.
Tony’s face darkened when he saw me. “Sarah,” he said in a chastising voice. “What’re you doing here?”
I felt a desperation in my belly as I stared at him and pleaded with my eyes. “Tony, please, I need my job back,” I begged. “When I got home last night, there was an eviction notice on my door.”
Tony frowned. “That’s a shitty deal, darlin’, but I told you, I can’t help you out. Times are tight around here. I’m doing my own contracting work this morning because I can’t even hire anyone else.”
Tears came to my eyes and I blinked them away. “Please,” I begged. “I’ll do anything. I’ll wash dishes! I’ll clean your house when you’re at work! I can help you paint today!”
Tony eyed my costume up and down. Suddenly, I felt ridiculous for wearing something skimpy instead of something practical. “I can’t,” he said softly. “I’m real sorry, Sarah.”
I fell to my knees as the sobs started. “Please,” I begged. “Please, Tony.”
He shook his head and turned away. “Sarah, you gotta get out of here,” he said in a deep voice. “I can’t help you, alright? Now scram, darlin’.”
Sobs washed over me as I kneeled on the floor. When I wiped my hand across my face, it came away black with mascara. Tony’s footsteps retreated in the distance, and when I opened my eyes, I saw his daughter crouching in front of me.
“Here,” she whispered. “Does this help?” She held out a small fist clutching a couple of sweaty one-dollar bills. I shook my head and pushed her hand back towards her body.
“No,” I said. “You keep that. I can’t take it from you.”
“Okay,” she said more cheerfully than I would have expected. Getting to my feet, I rubbed my knees; after kneeling for only a few minutes, they were killing me. The pain I felt, just like everything else that day, seemed like I reminder that I was getting older and failing at life.
Taking a deep breath, I hauled myself off the floor. Sniffling, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. My skin felt red and blotchy, and I shook my head. Well, I’d tried. Now there was nothing else to do but go home and figure out how to live in my car until I could get back on my feet. I’d made my car payment for the month, foolishly, before I’d paid rent, and I knew that I was good on it for at least thirty days. So that gave me some time, even if it wasn’t much.
As I was leaving, a familiar figure stepped in front of me. I thought it was Tony, but when I looked up, I saw Roger’s face peering down at me. My stomach fell; I was in no mood to deal with his shit today.
“Hi, Sarah,” he said with a grin. “Are you okay?”
I bit my lip and glared up at him. “Just fucking peachy,” I told him. “What do you want?”
Roger looked down at me with a smug grin on his face. “I heard everything,” he said in a sing-song voice. “I heard you begging, Sarah,” he repeated. I watched as he reached forward and stuck in a finger in the keyhole of my top. My first instinct was to jerk back, but something told me not to.
“What do you want?” I repeated.
“Now, now, that’s no way to talk to someone who just wants to help,” Roger said. “What if I told you that I have an idea? A way for you to make money, fast.”
My head spun as I imagined walking out onto a stage full of strippers. “What?”
Roger’s look softened. “Sarah, I only want to help you,” he said. “Can’t you trust that?”
I shook my head. In past experience, Roger had always been a creep. The first night I worked there, I’d caught him spying on me in the bathroom when I was peeing. Ever since then, I shuddered whenever I passed him in the hallways. Jeanne told me that he’d gone to prison for rape in the past; when I looked it up, I couldn’t find anything, but her words never quite left my mind when he was around. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t trust easily.”
Roger’s smile warmed into a big
grin and I felt my stomach turn. He leaned back on his heels and licked his lips. I noticed that his chin was completely broken out in pimples and pustules and I shuddered, imagining it scraping against mine in a horrible kiss. “You should trust me, though,” he said. “I can help you. Don’t you want that, baby?” He stroked his fingers down my bare arm. “You must want it bad enough to dress like a Grade A hooker when begging for your job back.” He trailed his eyes down my body and let them linger on my breasts. “Your tits are lookin’ fine, too, baby.”
I rolled my eyes and swiped his hand away from my arm. “Fine,” I said. “Why? How can you help? What do I have to do?”
“I have a job for you,” Roger informed me. “And it’s nothing sexual, I promise. Meet me tomorrow morning and I’ll tell you all about it.” Before I could say anything, he pressed a slip of paper into my hand and walked away.
I stood there feeling numb. Under literally any other circumstance, I would have loved to tell him to go to hell. He was creepy, slimy, and seemed completely untrustworthy. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and I was feeling more desperate than ever before.
I unfolded the piece of paper. It had a phone number, address, and a date. Monday morning, ten thirty. So I’d have the weekend to myself to come up with something else. I resolved to do my best to find another job in the timespan that I’d been given. If that didn’t work, I’d meet Roger. The address was on the other side of town, in an area that I barely knew anything about. It could be horrible. I could even be killed, for fuck’s sake.
Heading back to my car, I folded the paper and stuck it in my purse. I was a little more aware of my surroundings that I had been when I’d first left the house; being rejected by Tony jilted me into reality. Shaking my head, I looked down at the paper again. I had no idea what Roger could want, especially if he said it was nothing sexual. But knowing Roger, it could be “strip off your clothes and let me lick your pussy” and he’d still try to defend himself and say that it wasn’t sexual. Thinking about Roger made me shudder.
I could only hope that what he had in store for me wasn’t completely repulsive.
Chapter Three
Blake
I woke up with a pounding headache and an aching in my bones that meant I’d been going at it all night. Everything hurt. My hands hurt, my arms hurt. Even my goddamn hair hurt. I rubbed my hands over my face and sighed loudly, trying to process the night.
“Morning, handsome,” a voice croaked. I jumped. The duvet slipped to the side, revealing a very sexy, very naked, very tan woman. She was lying on her side and squinting at me. Her long brown hair was in a sensual tangle over her eyes and I could see her lips looked practically bee-stung. The only problem was that I couldn’t remember her name.
“Hi,” I said, raking a hand through my hair and wincing. She looked at me expectantly. “What?”
She giggled, a childish sound that grated on my nerves. Between my head and the fact that I had less than an hour to get to work, I was starting to feel annoyed. I couldn’t even remember where I’d met her.
“Do you still want breakfast?” she purred, reaching over and dragged painted talons up my leg. “Last night you told me you’d buy me pancakes.” She pouted. “I want sausage and bacon, too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry,” I said harshly. “I really have to get to work.”
She rolled onto her belly and I couldn’t stop my eyes from flicking down over her body. She looked like she was about my age, but with incredibly toned legs and a great ass. My cock twitched between my legs and I shook my head to clear the thought of ripping the sheet away from her body and taking her right then and there.
“Fine,” she said grumpily. She stood up, naked, and I stretched and I glanced away so I wouldn’t be tempted by her perfect, round breasts. “I’ll get dressed,” she said after it became clear I wasn’t going to pay any more attention to her. “Can you drop me off at the bus?”
“If you hurry,” I told her. “I have to take a shower.”
She frowned at me. “I bet you don’t even remember my name,” she commented blithely.
I shook my head. “Nope,” I said, grinning at her. She rolled her eyes.
“It’s Lila,” she informed me. “You can remember for next time.”
I wanted to laugh. “Sorry, I don’t usually go for a round two,” I told her. She glared at me and whirled back around, looking at her shiny legs. With a laugh, I walked into the bathroom and started the water as hot as it would go. It could have been worse; she could have tried to slap me.
In the shower, I closed my eyes and soaped my body mechanically. It was a ritual that I’d done every for as many years back as I could count: get naked in the shower and clear my mind of the shit that was bothering me. It was always calming, even if it didn’t always work. With a monster hangover like this one, I needed all the comfort I could get.
When I was toweling off, the woman sat on the edge of the bed and watched me with her catlike eyes. She made a big show of looking me over and I had to turn around to ignore her. I couldn’t even remember picking her up. I hoped desperately that I’d used a rubber.
“You sure I can’t change your mind about breakfast?” she asked while she was applying lip gloss and pouting into a small mirror. “I know a great diner!”
I shook my head. “I can’t be late for work, sorry,” I said, toneless. She grumbled but followed me out to my bike anyway. When I handed her my extra helmet, she balked. “Really? This is gonna mess up my hair,” she whined. “I don’t wanna wear it.”
“Well I don’t wanna get a two hundred dollar ticket because I’m carrying a bitch who isn’t wearing one,” I spat. Grabbing the helmet out of her hands, I plunked it down on her head and buckled the strap under her chin. She glared at me venomously; I didn’t think that I had to worry about her asking me for breakfast again.
I drove her to the bus stop and idled as she got off the bike. When she leaned in to kiss me, I took the helmet off of her head and nodded at her. “Later,” I said, speeding away. Her reply was drowned in the muffle of my bike roaring up.
By the time I pulled into Tinder’s parking lot, my headache was thankfully starting to fade. I’d only been up for an hour or so but the worst of my hangover was fading. Still, the idea of a long shift didn’t exactly sound appealing. Working at the jewelry store was only fun when the customers didn’t treat me like shit. I was fed up with stuck-up, skinny bitches who waltzed in and then acted like I was making them feel unsafe. I have no interest in women who need to feel important all the time; it was one of the reasons I rarely asked anyone to stay over. With last night, I couldn’t even remember asking that bitch if she wanted to come home with me, Lila or whatever her name was.
When I hung up my leather jacket in the back room of Tinder’s, I looked at my patches with pride. I’d been with the MC for almost ten years now, and I’d earned every single scratch, bruise, and accolade. Those guys were my family. Of course random women wanted to fuck us all the time, especially those of us who didn’t have an old lady. Girls like Lila were a dime a dozen.
“Hey, Blake, you’re late,” the manager told me as I slipped into place by the front door. “Two minutes. If it happens again, I’m gonna have to write you up,” he said with a guilty grin. “I don’t wanna do it, but you know how corporate is. That’s my ass on the line if you can’t show up.”
“It won’t happen again,” I said curtly as I stared straight ahead. “Bike trouble this morning.”
The manager rolled his eyes and walked past. I felt a flash of anger towards him—and Lila—but it passed. Soon it just looked like every other Monday morning at the jewelry store: lots of men rushing in before heading to their offices. I started to wonder what everyone was fighting about this weekend.
“Hey, buddy,” one of the guys said to me. He held up a box with a heart-shaped pendant made of diamonds and a box of diamond cluster earrings with pearls. “Which of these would your girl like?”
“I don’t have a girl,” I said drily. Just as I said that, I saw her. The girl from the bar the other night, that redheaded bartender. She sauntered in wearing leather leggings that hugged her curves and a flowing turquoise silk top. All in all, she looked like she was going to work at the bar, rather than take a little shopping detour.
When she saw me, she froze in place. Just as I was about to greet her, she tossed her head and started browsing the store. I carefully watched as she walked up and down the aisles. Her lovely figure swung from side to side as she strolled. I frowned. She was a bartender, and most of the stuff in this store had four-digit price tags. Interestingly enough, she just seemed to be browsing the whole store as opposed to one single type of item. She went through the whole store, staring from case to case: rings, watches, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, pins, the list went on. She had a careful eye; it was almost hawkish, especially for such a pretty girl. I recognized the same spitfire in her green eyes that I’d seen the other night. All in all, I had to admit that she was really intriguing.
Thief: Devil's Own MC Page 2
