Dulce

2

We make our way out to the VIP area before heading down to the mass of dancing bodies on the main floor.

Lollie links my hand with hers and lifts it high in the air as she drags us toward the bar, right next to goon one and goon two.

I can’t make out what they are saying, but they have their heads bent together so they can hear each other.

Lollie does some hand signals with the bartender, which results in us receiving two bottles of water. We drink them as we wait for one of the goons to stand. When it’s clear neither of them plans on leaving anytime soon, I pull Lollie toward me and kiss her.

Never slow on the uptake, she kisses me back and grabs my ass before accidentally-on-purpose knocking me back into the goons.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. Me and my girlfriend can get a little carried away,” Lollie apologizes as she pulls me up, lifting goon one’s wallet. Meanwhile, I slip a couple of the pills Lollie gave Marty into goon two’s pocket as a precautionary measure. I mean, it’s possible that if the cops are called and the body collected and sent to the coroner now, they might pick up a trace amount of the substance used to poison him. But as the minutes tick by, it’s doubtful. Still, it’s better to have all my boxes ticked. If the goons are searched, they will, unfortunately, be found with some incriminating evidence.

“No problem. Holy fuck, are you Lollie Evans?”

“Aw, a fan?” Lollie coos, leaning into goon two now and relieving him of his wallet as well.

“How could I not be? Nobody does a DP scene like you.”

“Oh, stop.” She waves her hand like a shy debutante. I’m not sure how many debutantes like a dick in each hole, but I don’t stereotype.

“Me and my friend here would love some company—” the goon starts, and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes. Did they forget about the body upstairs?

“Oh, I would love to. You pair are more than gorgeous enough to rev my engine, but we are just leaving. We have a night shoot, a little girl-on-girl action. Next time, though?”

“Oh, for sure.” He beams as if he didn’t just get blown off.

Lollie wraps her arm around my shoulders and guides me toward the exit, turning briefly to wave at the guys.

“I’ve heard of beer goggles, but those guys had dick goggles.”

“Wait, what?” I laugh.

“Dick goggles. Where they don’t see anything other than places they can put their dick. My mouth, my pussy, my ass, between my tits. I mean, you were pressed up against them, still smelling like sex and old spice, and yet they were oblivious.”

“That’s because of my awesome disguise.” I nudge her.

“Sure, that and the dick goggles. Trust me, it’s a thing.”

I shake my head and smirk, but she isn’t wrong.

We step out into the cold evening air, and I take a deep breath.

“I’m starving. I think I’m going to grab a pizza on the way home,” I tell her as my stomach growls.

We walk past the dumpster, where Lollie snags the bag she tossed out the window earlier.

“You want me to take that if you’re going to Honey’s?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

“The wallets?”

“You caught that, huh?”

“Only because I was watching for it. Need me to get rid of them?”

“Nah, I tossed them inside the club before we even left. I pulled these though.”

She hands me the bag before pulling two licenses from her cleavage.

“I’ll give these to Sugar in the morning. She can have them run through the system just in case.”

“I’m seeing Sugar in the morning, so I can take them too if you like.”

“You’re seeing Sugar in the morning?”

“Yeah, 10 a.m., so I better get a few hours of sleep. You know I’m easily agreeable when I’m tired. Anything for a quiet life. She knows this. It’s why I think she does it on purpose. She ends up talking me into the most awful crap.”

“Yeah, she’s sneaky like that, but that’s why she’s the boss.” Leaning over, she kisses my cheek before stepping away.

“Sounds like she has a case for you, which sucks. We only just got you back. Call me before you head out. We’ll get something to eat.”

“Will do.”

“Love you like a nympho loves dick.”

I blow her a kiss and head down West Street toward the only all-night pizza parlor that’s worth eating at.

The cool air licks over my skin as I make the trek to the pizza place, debating what I want.

I ignore the catcalls from the group of guys on the corner but keep my eye on them in case they decide to go from being regular asshats to wannabe rapist asshats. I guess the gods are feeling kind tonight. The guys don’t so much as cross the street.

The smell of tomatoes and garlic, herbs and cheese assault my senses when I’m still half a block away, making my stomach grumble impatiently. By the time I make it inside, I’m practically salivating.

Thankfully, it’s relatively quiet. During the day, I’d have to line up and my stomach would have started eating itself. At this time of the morning, there are mostly people like me, those who have drunk a little too much and need pizza to restore the balance.

In the far corner, a group of women laughing loudly draws attention from the nearby table littered with late-night students cramming for last-minute tests.

On the opposite side, a couple seems to be having heated words. The woman shakes her head and scowls while the man gestures wildly with his hands. I missed the first part of the argument, so I’m not sure whose side I’m on yet. When the woman stands, grabs her bag, and tosses her long blonde hair over her shoulder, I give her a few bonus points for attitude.