“They respect you… and I mean a lot. The bartender, the security guards, they all talk highly of you. You run a tight ship, but they’re thankful for that.”
“You got all that from the one night you come in drunk?”
She waves her hand at me. “Please, I didn’t start off drunk.” Rochelle smiles, making me smile for the first time since Mitchell arrived.
“I don’t need you to come. Go, spend more time with that man of yours.”
She blushes at my words. Her hand goes to play with her shirt, and I know it’s an instant warning sign.
“I think I might be pregnant.”
Her words make my mouth fall open, and I can’t say anything.
“I’m not sure, though. I’ve been sick this week,” she says with a shake of her head. “Could be food poisoning. Who knows?”
“Are your boobs sore?” I ask. It’s our tell-tale sign my mother told me. She had the symptom and so did I. Our grandmother did as well. It’s how she knew when she was pregnant.
Rochelle’s eyes widen when she looks up at me.
“Go and take a test.”
“It’s too soon.” She bites her lip. “Way too soon.”
“Think of it this way… you have nine months for that baby to cook… if you’re early, that is.”
Rochelle’s face goes white, and I reach into my cabinet and pull out a spare test I have in there for emergencies. She looks at it and doesn’t take it from my hand. I am sure she thinks it will burn her if she reaches for it.
“Take it! Take it now, if you think so.”
Shaky hands reach out to grab the kit from me.
“I should do it with Marcus. I only came to the conclusion that I might be this morning. And I haven’t seen him.” Rochelle’s head drops. “I want to do it, with him.” She finally takes the test from my hands and holds it in hers.
“That’s fine. Go home and do it as soon as you can, otherwise it will eat you alive until you do.”
Rochelle’s an overthinker, and sometimes it’s to her detriment. She nods and leaves. I finish getting ready, and soon I’m pulling up at work. When I do, Fred’s standing there with his hands crossed over his chest, waiting for me.
“What’s up?” I ask him as he follows me inside.
The second the doors shut behind me, I stop.
Oh, fucking hell! Sitting at the bar is Mitchell. He has a drink in hand and one of my girls standing next to him as he smiles at her with those ‘take me to bed now eyes.’ I should warn her to stay the fuck away from him. That man will get you pregnant and run. I wonder how many other kids he has in this world who he doesn’t care for.
“He asked for you. But I got to tell you, Miss, I didn’t want to let him stay.”
I turn back to look at Fred—he’s older than me, possibly late forties, and a remarkable guy who’s married with two grown children. “Thanks, Fred, I’ll wave if I need you.”
“Okay, Miss.”
Fred eyes Mitchell one last time before he leaves me standing there. I watch Mitchell talk to Silver, one of my girls, who’s wearing her trademark silver wig. His hand touches her arm, and she smiles at him. Silver has been known to fall for the wrong men, a lot. And sometimes it’s almost gotten her fired, as she knows the men she meets here are not here for her to date. They are here for one reason and one reason only—to dance for and nothing else.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way over to them.
Silver straightens when she sees me.
“Silver, go, and don’t attend to this man again, please.”
Her eyes latch on to Mitchell then back to me. “Yes, Miss.” She walks off, and I take her place standing in front of Mitchell so I can see his reactions.
The bastard has the audacity to eye me up and down, then he smirks. “You look good, even after a kid.” He doesn’t even bother to say ‘our kid.’ No, just a kid. “So, you work here?” he asks, then looks around. “My lawyer will like that info.”
“What do you want?”
“I told you, Kat. I want to know my daughter.”
“Why?” I ask. “Tell me why.”
Mitchell lifts the drink he’s holding in his hand, takes a sip before rubbing his lips together, then he answers me. “She is mine, is she not?”
I scoff at him. “You’re the only low life I’ve slept with.”
His hand goes to his heart. “You wound me, Kat. Wound me.”
“I wish I could,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I want to know my daughter. Meet me tomorrow at three, or else my lawyer will be sending you papers for court.” Mitchell stands, throws some bills on the counter.
The asshole comes from money. He bragged about it the first time I met him, when he was drunk, of course. I should have guessed back then he was a dick. All the signs pointed in that direction, but I was too transfixed on the way he would stare at me. It was as if I was some magical creature or, maybe now that I think about it, it was just the alcohol.