by Mj Fields
Shocked, I look at Tris.
She scowls at me. “It’s only been a week. She’s not like that. And you know what?” She points at the boys. “That’s okay.”
Chuckling, Patrick asks, “So, you’re good?”
I nod. “All good.”
Patrick looks at Truth. “You mind taking them home?”
I look toward the door and see the Blender crew then look back at him.
Truth smiles. “Yeah, of course.”
After they’re all gone, I attempt to help clean up, but get, “We got it,” and “Our job, King,” sarcastically of course. Then I watch as Gabrielle laughs as she overhears them.
She’s not getting any side-eyes or annoying looks. They fucking respect her. That or they want to fuck her.
“Try it, motherfuckers,” I growl to all of them under my breath when I feel a nudge.
I look beside me and see Gabrielle and the guy Tyler.
“You have the money?” Gabrielle asks.
I nod. “Tobias took care of the card tables. I got the bar.” I look at Tyler. “You gave me the cover money.”
He nods.
“Well”—Gabrielle nods toward the office— “you want to bring it all in so we can divvy it up?”
“Thought that was done on Monday?”
She shakes her head. “No cops tonight, no waiting for credit cards to clear and money to be moved, so let’s do it.”
“You think Tobias should be here for this?” I ask.
“He’ll be back,” Tyler says. “He just walked your crew to their vehicle.”
“All right, Queenie, let’s go grab the cash.”
“Go ahead. I have no idea where you put it, and I don’t want to know.”
Tyler chuckles. “Girl thinks money is dirty, but she’s draped in Benjamins.”
I take her paw. “Come with me.”
“I’m going to change. I’ll meet you back here.”
Sitting in the office with Tobias, waiting on Queenie, with over twenty grand in cash sitting in front of me, I shake my head. “This is insane.”
“Two hundred people blowing an average of a hundred bucks, not much different than going to the movies. Truth and I blew over a hundred bucks at one of those dinner theatres and got served shit food and stale-ass popcorn.”
“So, three bartenders and ten security slash set up and tear down crew?”
“Lost two guys tonight.”
“How?” I ask as the door opens and Gabrielle walks in, freshly showered, hair in a ponytail, wearing little flowy cotton sleep shorts and a tank top. No bra. No fucking bra with a house full of guys who would probably give their left nut for a taste of her tits.
“You need a shirt.” I start unbuttoning mine.
“I’m good, but thanks.” She sits down and pulls her feet up on the chair, hugging her knees.
I pull it off, anyway, and drop it over her shoulders. “Wasn’t a question.”
She scowls at me then looks at Tobias and rolls her eyes. He chuckles.
“Shit’s not funny. I swear to fuck I saw areola.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t need to know that.” Tobias rubs his hand over his face.
She reaches over and wrenches on my nipple. “I see yours, too.”
“The fuck, Queenie.” I bat her paw away.
“Do I need to separate you two, or can we get through this without a fight?”
She smiles. “We’re a united front, right, JT?”
“Yeah, but you should keep your shit covered.”
“Is that so?” She shrugs my shirt off.
“Gabrielle …” I growl.
“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” She grins. Fucking grins.
Tobias tries to hold back his laugh and fails.
“Point made. But I didn’t toss your fucking clothes in a pool.”
“Jesus, will you two focus? Truth has a one a.m. curfew.”
Tobias and I make stacks, a thousand dollars each pile, and, just like Tyler said, Gabrielle doesn’t touch the money.
Then Tobias starts moving money. “Four grand for the bar leaves a profit of twenty-four hundred and fifty.” He pushes the money toward Gabrielle. “Keep this for the next party so you don’t have to front it.”
“But I—”
“I’ll hold it if you don’t want to,” I cut her off.
She gives me a dirty look. I don’t give a damn.
He divides the card money up into piles. “Seventeen hundred and sixty each. That usually goes to Harrison, Kai, and Miles.”
“That’s all they cash in?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Ten grand cover money. Eight guys on the floor, that’s thirty-two hundred. Three at the bar, twelve hundred. Four tables, sixteen hundred. Six grand. We’ll give Tyler the money for the time the other two were here and let him decide on whether or not to give them shit.”
“Wait—who did we lose?” Gabrielle asks.
“Skip and Boom. They let Harrison and company up. Tyler stopped them at the door.”
“Why would they do that?” she asks.
“Tyler thinks they paid them off,” I tell her.
“They’ve been here since the first party,” she says, obviously upset.
“Skewed loyalty, Queenie,” I tell her.
“That leaves thirty-four hundred, and you two can divide that up,” Tobias says, pushing the cash forward.
“It’s three, Tobias,” Gabrielle tells him.
“Not my show anymore.”
“Sure as hell is until you’re at Columbia,” I say, counting out twelve hundred and pushing it back to him.
“No, I—”
“Yes, Tobias,” Gabrielle chimes in. “Think of all the dates you can take Truth on with”—she stops and looks at the money— “close to three grand each.”
“I’m good, really.”
“We need you here with us, man,” I tell him.
“I’ll be here, money or not.”
“Then take the fucking money.”
After Tobias leaves, Gabrielle looks at me. “Feels wrong with the bar money.”
“Shouldn’t. You fronted that money.”
“How much did you actually spend at the liquor store?”
I reach into my pocket, pull out the receipt, and hand it to her.
She bites her lower lip, hiding a smile, and shakes her head. “So, you saved twenty-eight hundred?”
“Minus the tip.”
“So, twenty-six hundred.”
“I gave her an extra hundred.”
She smiles and nods. “Twenty-five.”
“Yeah.”
“If it gets found out—”
“I’ll take the shit for it. But I’m telling you, it’s not gonna happen.”
“What kind of beer was in the keg?” she asks, setting her feet on the floor.
“Bud Light.”
She walks around the desk, pulls a key out of her pocket, unlocks a drawer, opens it, and sweeps her pile of cash into it. She then picks out eight one hundred-dollar bills and puts the key and cash in her shorts pocket.
“Time to pay the crew,” she says, stretching as she walks past me and to the door.
I grab the elastic of her shorts and pull her back.
“What are you doing?” She laughs.
I let go of her and throw the shirt over her shoulders.
“Seriously, JT, they’re all grown-ass people. Some of these men have wives, girlfriends, and some have kids. The only one out there who would be remotely interested in a minor is your little bartender.”
“Don’t give a fuck what you think. You’re a beautiful, young woman, and they notice.”
She smirks as she walks to the door, pushing her arms through the sleeves. “You’re gonna love our summer pool parties.”
“You’ll be wearing a fucking one piece.”
“Says you.” She laughs as she opens the door.
As Tobias suggested to me early on, I should be the one to hand them t
heir earnings. For some reason, people have a sense of respect for people who give them money.
Gabrielle hugs all of them as they leave, except Quinn, who walks right by her while she’s hugging someone else.
“Tyler,” I call to him as he and Tiggs walk toward the door. “You two mind hanging out for a couple minutes?”
They both nod, and then I walk toward the lounge, where there isn’t one sign that there was a party here thirty minutes ago.
“You guys want a drink?” I ask, and they both look at each other then back at me.
“Tyler doesn’t drink,” Tiggs says, “and I don’t when I’m working.”
“This isn’t work.” I shrug, “But respect either way.”
“There’s Dr. Pepper back there,” Gabrielle says as she walks into the room.
Tyler smiles and winks at her. “The girl’s got our backs.” Then he looks back at me. “And we got hers.”
I bend down and grab four cans of Dr. Pepper from the fridge below the bar and set them on top of it.
“After shit went down with Skip and Boom, I got to thinking I’ve never seen a guard in that little building outside the gate.”
They both nod as they crack open their sodas.
“I asked Tobias which of your crew he’d ask first about doing eleven p.m. to seven a.m. shifts, and he mentioned both of you, and said if you couldn’t, you’d know who to trust.”
“Seven days a week?” Tiggs asks.
I shrug. “Unless she’s staying at a friend’s, I think, yeah.”
“You got the money for this, Gabrielle?” Tyler asks her.
She shrugs. “Haven’t really thought about it much.”
“Twenty-five an hour, cash under the table,” I tell them both.
“You got that kind of cash?” Tiggs asks.
“I can swing a few weeks.”
“You wanna split it up?” he asks Tyler.
Tyler nods then looks back at me. “Monday cool to start?”
“Was hoping for tomorrow.”
“I can stay with a friend tomorrow.”
“Yeah?” I ask, and she nods. “What friend?”
Her face starts to turn red. I’ve embarrassed her and, this time, not on purpose.
“Truth, right?”
She nods.
I look back at them. “Then Monday at eleven?”
“You got any idea how long?”
“Mid-July, we revisit.”
Gabrielle laughs. “That’s a little excessive. This will blow over in—”
“We’ll discuss it later, but I’m committed to mid-July. You guys cool with that?”
“We’ll make it work for Gabrielle.” Tyler nods.
“Payday Friday good?” I ask, and they both agree. “Thank you.”
As they walk out the door, I notice her slipping them each a hundred-dollar bill with a hug. Once she closes the door, I ask her why.
“The dealers at the tables and the bartenders make tips. They don’t.”
“Cool.”
“And maybe we should discuss spending fourteen hundred dollars a week for someone to sit at the end of my driveway before actually committing to it.”
“Didn’t really think you’d be pissed having someone making sure they didn’t come in here uninvited. And, straight up, Queenie, I didn’t ask for your permission, because I don’t need it.”
Faux
Gabrielle
“Let’s go check out the alcohol situation,” Justice says with a smile.
“I can’t believe you pulled that on me.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t think of it to begin with. We’re in high school; we’re supposed to be playing beer pong, drinking out of red Solo cups, and partying on the beach or in the woods, not sipping eight-hundred-dollar whiskey from crystal glasses.”
“I’ll bet you, by Monday, someone’s figured it out.”
“I’ll bet you they don’t.” He laughs as he grabs half-empty bottles and tucks several under his arms. “Can you grab a few, or do you not touch bottles like you don’t touch money?”
“Funny,” I say, grabbing the four left under the bar and follow him to the butler pantry.
I watch him unlock the door with the key that Tobias handed him, the key that was once my father’s, and push it open.
“What are we doing now?” I say through a yawn.
“Filling the boujee bottles up to see what we’ll need for next week.”
I grab the funnel, and he takes it from me. “You’re buzzing, Queenie, and if you drip, the labels will get messed up.”
“So there’s now a science to your deception?”
He nods to the box he carried from the liquor store. “Grab the cash from there. That’s a week for Tyler and Tiggs.”
“And the eight other weeks?” I ask, pulling the money out of the box.
“I have three grand still in your study. That’s three weeks.”
“That’s your money.”
“I make money. I don’t need that.”
“Oh, yeah? I didn’t realize intimidation was a paying job.”
“I’ll pull a grand tomorrow, smartass.”
“Doing what?”
He smiles as he slowly fills the vodka bottle. “Art. Ink. Tattoos.”
“So, you don’t just mark up your crew; you mark up willing participants?”
“Yeah, and I’m good at it, so shush.”
“Fine,” I say, setting the cash down then reaching into the box to grab the package he gave me after school. “Should I open my one week fucked-iversary gift?”
He smirks as he moves to the next bottle. “Probably should save that for when you’re alone.”
I open the cupboard and grab a glass then grab the bottle of whiskey and pour myself some.
“Think you should chill on the alcohol. Your nanny might—”
“Will you stop saying nanny? I’m seventeen. She’s a housekeeper.”
“She’s gonna ground you,” he jokes. “Take away your sippy cup. Pacifier.”
I toss back the whiskey then suck in air through my clenched teeth, trying to gain some liquid courage.
“I’m gonna guess she’s not. I pay her. People I pay are always nice to me. It gets old.”
He glances at me as he carefully wipes down four very full vodka bottles then sets them aside. Then he looks away and starts pouring the whiskey. “Don’t have to pay people to give a shit, Queenie.”
I sit down and reach over, grab the package and then I start to open it.
“Gonna tell you again; you’re gonna want to wait—”
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You’re such a dick!”
I watch as he bites down on his lower lip, unable to hide the smile as he sets down the bottle.
“I would agree I was a dick, but as you can see, I’m also a man of my word.”
I open the box and dump the small, plastic vibrator on the counter. “Could you have found anything smaller?” I laugh as I pull the paper tab that blocks the battery from working.
“It’s a clit stimulator,” he says, rubbing a hand through his hair.
I lean back against the wall and look over the pink, plastic, tiny dick. “I think you got robbed.”
“What?” He lets out a deep chuckle.
“It’s a micro-penis.”
“Queenie,” he sighs as he finishes filling another bottle.
Looking it over, I find where it says twist and do just that, squealing when it starts jumping around on my hand.
“Christ, will you turn that thing off?”
I shake my head. “I’m the kind of girl who opens one gift every couple hours on Christmas and plays with each until I get bored.”
I watch as he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “How about you wait until I’m done?”
I lift my foot and set it on the edge of the seat, allowing my legs to spread a bit, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks as I ope
n his shirt, that I’m still wearing, and run the clit stimulator down my neck and over my nipple, head falling back slightly as a low moan escapes me.
“Queenie, quit fucking around,” he says through clenched teeth, turning his body so he’s facing me.
I move my foot from the stool to the counter, widening the spread of my legs. Through the very loose sleep shorts I feel the cool air against my heated center. Allowing my leg to fall back as I watch him look down at my exposed flesh, I lower the stimulator down my body until it’s against my pussy.
“Am I”—I stop and clear my throat— “doing this right?”
“Gonna ask you one more fucking time to stop,” he sneers, eyes not leaving my spread legs.
I rub it against my clit and nearly fall off the stool, he steps forward, catching my foot and placing it back on the counter.
“That’s a lot to handle,” I whimper.
“You need to be soaked,” he says, chest rising and falling in a heavy, slow rhythm.
I reach lower and rub it against my inner lips. “Like. This?”
“Fuck yeah,” he groans, licking his lips. “More.”
I rub harder, and my hips buck, causing the stool to rock.
He shakes his head as he grips my hips and lifts me, carrying me to the opposite counter and setting me down, then quickly stepping back.
Hissing he asks, “What the fuck?”
I plant both feet on the counter and lean back, watching his eyes dart from me to the door until I rub it against me pussy again.
“Oh, damn.” I arch my back and grip the counter, my legs closing as small electrical currents jolt between my legs.
Justice steps forward, gripping my knees and spreading me wider, almost uncomfortably wide, but the way he’s watching me is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Rub it against your clit.” His voice is a deep growl, angry, feral, not a soft, sweet, adoring whisper like it used to be.
As soon as I touch my clit, currents surge and my hand begins to shake as I hold my breath until I can’t anymore and cry out.
“Fuck yes,” he hisses, and another surge causes my hand to shake so hard I drop the damn thing.
“Dammit, Queenie,” he snaps as he lets go of my knees and bends to get it. When he stands up and pulls it out of his mouth, I nearly fucking die.
“It’s clean,” he says, shoving it in my hand and stepping back.
