Submitting in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 3) - Page 7

Jessica Rabbit looks over at me, lifting an eyebrow. “Didn’t know we were expecting comp

any,” she says.

“Huh?” Rafe asks.

She lifts a wobbly hand, points at me, and then laughs. “I thought you’d at least call in someone sexier. She looks severe. Do you have naughty teacher fantasies or something?”

I stiffen, lifting my chin and walking closer. I don’t care about her, I just want to see Rafe. None of this feels right and even though he’s clearly okay… is he?

Then I see it: on the floor between them there’s a mirror, a razor blade, and white residue on the mirror’s surface. I lose my breath for a moment, catch it again, and then fury explodes in my veins.

“Uh oh,” Jessica Rabbit murmurs, before giggling. “Rafe, I think we’re in trouble.”

I point to the filthy mirror and lift an accusing eyebrow. “Is this yours?”

“Yeah,” she says, still giggling. “I brought party favors. What’d you bring?”

The sudden desire to take this razor blade and use it to open at least one of her carotid arteries. Probably shouldn’t say that. My hands tremble with anger, and I reach down to grab her arm, pulling her up off the floor. “All right, time for you to go.”

“What?” she asks, baffled.

“You are a bad influence. You’re leaving.”

“Oh, my God. What are you, his mom?”

Rafe watches me wrestle the bimbo up off the ground, chuckling to himself like he’s enjoying the show.

Good lord.

“You can’t kick me out,” Jessica says, stumbling in her high heels. “Rafe, tell her.”

He shrugs, like it’s out of his hands. “Sorry, Virginia says you have to leave.”

“Are you serious?” she demands, dumbfounded.

“Come on, Skankerella,” I tell her, turning her around, placing a hand on her back, and shoving her toward the door.

She stumbles forward. “I don’t… Rafe drove me here. How am I supposed to get home?”

I haven’t taken my apron off yet, so I reach in and grab a couple twenties. “Here’s cab money. Go away. And if you ever drug him up again, I will hunt you down and use your filthy coke razor to slit your pretty little throat.”

Now she pales. I flash her a cold smile. I’m bluffing, but she nearly fucked a gangster who just let me kick her out of his house, so she can’t know that. I could be a psycho bitch for all she knows.

“Bye, Jessica,” I tell her.

“That’s not my name,” she says, confused.

I close the door in her face.

Now that I’ve disposed of his drugged up whore, Rafe folds his hands on his stomach, still looking blissfully out of it. “Why are you at my house?”

“I was bringing you the weekly reports. You didn’t come to the restaurant to get them last week, so I wasn’t sure if you were okay.”

“I’m great,” he informs me.

“Yes, I can see that,” I say, squatting down to pick up their gross drug mirror and razor blade. “Can I give you advice? Don’t let sketchy hoes around you with razor blades.”

“That’s pretty good advice,” he admits.

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