Stalked By the Mob (Miami Mafia 1)

Chapter5

My energy officially faded by the time I walked into Carlito's. It was Friday night, and the crowd was already picking up, so I was going to have to get my head back on quick if I didn't want to mess up all my orders.

The clientele at Carlito's weren't the type to be super forgiving when they got the wrong drinks. Sure, the customers were rude, and the hours were terrible, but all of the pay was in cash and under the table. With tips, this was the highest paying of my three jobs.

So, when I came out of the dirty bathroom changed into my black jeans and low-cut tank top, I had a smile on my face.

Becks worked the opening shift and was serving her table a round of draft beer.

"How much for a drink of you, sweet tits?"

If anyone else had asked, Becks might've smacked them upside the head, but Roger was a regular who tried out a different nickname for Becks every time he saw her.

"More than you can afford, dumbbell dick," she called over her shoulder. She gave me a wink before setting the tray on the bar top. "Welcome to the jungle, babe. Tell me about how you aced your midterm."

I chuckled and bit the tip of my tongue between my teeth before responding. "Grades aren't posted yet."

"Please. I know that self-satisfied mug of yours. That's the look you get when you know you rocked it."

I flushed at the realization that she was right. Ugh. I was the only person who could get self-conscious about being confident. If Becks was the personification of "fight", I was the personification of "flight".

We'd probably both be dead by now without each other to keep the balance.

Carlito's wasn't a dive bar. The light fixtures and fabric on the barstools and booths were a deep red while basically everything else was black, keeping the mood dark at all times. A majority of the customers still smoked too, keeping the air dense and smoky.

Most people would probably hate all the cigarette smell, but I was used to it. Heck, I was born and raised in it. I would probably be homesick if I didn't get my daily secondhand dose of nicotine.

I was twenty minutes into my shift when Becks tapped me on the shoulder. "Did you see the new guy?"

Glancing around the bar, I didn't see anyone new. "What are you talking about?"

"Corner pocket," she said, motioning to the booth in the shadows of the furthest corner. The light had been out there for the past few weeks and Carlito had been dragging his feet on fixing it. I wouldn't have known anyone was there if it weren't for the glowing bud as he took a drag of his cigarette.

"Maybe it's just a ghost who wanted a smoke."

Becks snorted. "Why would a ghost want to hang out in a dump like this?"

"Should I take his order?"

"Nah. Just keep an eye over there. I have a bad feeling about that one."

Yeah, me too. Even though I couldn't see a thing through that darkness, every instinct I had was on high alert and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up straight. I tried to ignore it, but I kept on glancing towards that back corner and staring into that darkness.

And I couldn't help but feel like he was looking back at me.