“Hey, Aubrey!” a girl calls out as I’m leaving class. “I thought I saw you earlier.”
Ah, Bree’s friend, Emily. We’ve only hung out a few times, so it takes me a second to place her. “If I looked like I was about to cry leaving accounting, it was me.”
She chuckles. “Do you want to grab lunch?”
As I’m about to answer, my phone buzzes.
Brantley: We’re slammed. Can you come in and work this afternoon?
Me: If I can find a ride, yes.
Brantley: I’ll feed you.
Me: Promises, promises.
“Ugh.” I glance up at Emily. “I’ll buy you lunch if you can give me a ride to my part-time job.”
She smiles. “Sure. I hate the food here anyway.”
We catch up on the way to Busy Beans. Well, she fills me in on her life, and I listen.
“Have you seen Professor Martin? I definitely want to take advantage of his evening office hours.”
An uneasy sensation rolls through me. “No thanks. My grades are bad enough right now without risking getting kicked out of school.”
She glances over. “I think it’s more of a risk for the teacher than the student.”
I snort and shake my head. I’m kind of being a drag, aren’t I? I force a smile. “Guess I need to check him out.”
By the time we arrive at Busy Beans, I’m exhausted. Emily takes “bubbly personality” to a new level.
The coffee shop’s packed. I slip behind the counter and loop my apron around my neck, understanding Brantley’s desperation.
“Thank you so much, sweet pea,” he says, air-kissing my cheek as he sweeps past me. “You’re a life-saver.”
“Anything for a buck, Bran-man, you know that.” I nod at Emily. “I owe my friend lunch for giving me a ride, though.”
“I’ll take care of her.” He shoves me in front of the cash register. “You take care of this line.”
I work on thinning the impossibly long line of people waiting to order coffee and pastries for the next hour.
They just keep coming.
Emily waves on her way out and I thank her again for the ride. “Next week!” she shouts.
The pennies clattering into the tip jar every now and then make me question whether coming in on my night off was a good idea.
Pennies. That’s what’s on my mind when the next customer steps up and orders three blueberry muffins to go.
Something about his voice makes me glance up. A slow smirk spreads across his face as if he’d been waiting for me to recognize him.
“Griff? Right?” I ask, waving my fingers in a half-hearted hello.
“The one and only.” He hands over a twenty and tells me to keep the change. I’d like to say I stuff it in the tip jar, but since I’m pretty sure Griff came to specifically see me, it goes right in my apron pocket.
He follows on the other side of the counter as I step away from the register to grab a bag and fill his order.
“You work two jobs?” he asks.
“And go to school.”
He lets out a low whistle, that might seem mocking coming from anyone else, but I get the feeling he understands my situation more than he’s making fun of it.
“Busy girl.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I say, handing over the brown bag. His mouth twitches and he jerks his head to the side. “Do you have a minute?”
A glance up shows the line of customers has dwindled to nothing.
I catch Brantley’s eye. “I’ll be right back.”
“Go on,” he encourages with a wink aimed at Griff.
I whip off my apron and slip through the low, swinging door separating me from the rest of the cafe.
Up close, Griff doesn’t seem threatening. He’s big, sure. Everyone’s big compared to me. But he keeps a respectable distance and his gaze sticks to my face. “I’m not sure what Sully told you, but I really can help you out with your money situation.”
Given the nature of Griff’s business, I’m not sure if the information Sully shared is supposed to be spread around. “How? Are you a pimp?”
He snorts. “No. You ever watch boxing, or MMA, or wrestling? Anything like that?”
“Sure. Once or twice.”
He twirls a finger in the air. “The girls who walk the ring, holding up the signs. Encouraging the crowds. That’s what I need you for.”
“Need me? You don’t even know me.”
“You’re mouthy. That’s a plus.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Jake says you’re a good girl, need the cash, and can keep your mouth shut.”
“Ahh, there it is. This isn’t legal.”
“Gray area,” he says, waving off my concern.
“There have to be dozens of taller, prettier girls around who would be into the whole bad-boy-danger experience. Why are you so interested in me?”
He drops his smile and sweeps his gaze over me. “Don’t sell yourself short.” Yes, he adds a smirk to that one. “Seriously though. One of our regular girls is out of town and another one is sick.”
“I’m not interested in spending the night prancing around in my underwear in front of a bunch of testosterone-pumped knuckle-draggers. Sorry.”
Griff’s not even insulted. “Doesn’t have to be underwear.” One corner of his mouth curls up. “A nice, tight, short dress will do.”
I glare at him.
“We look after our girls. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. Jake’ll be there. He definitely won’t let anyone near you.”
Interesting that Jake’s planning to attend when his brother has such strong opinions on this subject.
Or maybe Sully just didn’t want me there?
Because he’s genuinely worried about me or he’s jealous?
Not the last one. That’s insane.
“Hundred and fifty,” he offers, raising his earlier offer.
Tonight, if I’m lucky, I’ll go home with sixty dollars and sore feet.
A hundred and fifty bucks is a lot of money to me at the moment.
“It’s fun. A lot of girls think it’s exciting,” Griff encourages. “Girl like you probably has a lot of questions.” He wiggles his fingers in a “give it to me” sort of gesture. “Hit me.”
“Do you ever have any girl fighters?” pops out of my mouth first.
The question seems to take him by surprise. He cocks his head. “Actually yes. Anyone who pays up can go in the ring.”
Huh. I didn’t really expect an answer and definitely not that answer.
“Does anyone ever get seriously injured?”
Another question that he apparently didn’t see coming. What kind of girls usually work for him? “Yeah. We have a guy with medical training at the fights. Any injuries above his skill-level get dropped off at
the hospital.”
Dropped off sounds more like dumped, but what do I expect?
“A hundred and fifty dollars?” I ask to be sure.
“In cash.” He nods, all serious businessman now. “At the end of the night.”
We stand there staring at each other for a few minutes before I let out a breath. “Okay.”
“Fantastic. Thank you.”
“When and where?”
“I’ll text you with the address a couple hours before. Need you there by nine-thirty. Usually breaks around two in the morning.”
We exchange numbers and Griff thanks me again before bouncing out the door with his bag of muffins.
I can’t stop thinking how mad Sully’s going to be.
He’s made it abundantly clear we’re only employer-employee.
So why does disappointing him bother me so much?
CHAPTER NINE
Aubrey’s trying to kill me.
Today, she showed up to work in a bright red polo shirt and tiny black stretchy shorts. As if she’s read my damn mind and knew exactly what would drive me insane.
The outfit isn’t inappropriate.
Unless you’re a perv like she’s apparently turned me into.
Jake strolls in around noon, bumping into my shoulder as he stops dead. He squints at Aubrey. “Is she carrying her cell phone in her back pocket?”
Shaking myself out of my latest dirty fantasy involving Aubrey, me, and one of the locker room benches, I mumble, “I don’t think so, why?”
“Because that fine, curvy little ass of hers is calling me.”
Christ, why didn’t I see that coming? “You’re a dick. Don’t you dare say that to her.”
He’s laughing so hard, he can barely speak. “I just said it. To get. You going. You should see. The way you’re drooling. Over her.”
I throw the heel of my hand into his shoulder, knocking him back a few feet. Unfortunately our antics draw Aubrey’s attention our way. She smiles and waves at Jake, then returns to whatever she’s doing on the computer.
“Seriously,” he says after catching his breath. “For a tiny girl, she’s—”
“Knock it off, would ya?”
“What?” He throws his arms in the air and turns in a circle. “It’s a professional observation.”