Francesca shows up with a basket of bread and two bottles of Stoli. I smile at her. I don’t have time for any of the Russians’ crap. I’m ready to put my knife through his fucking hand if it wouldn’t make a mess we’d have to clean up.
Blade grins as he reaches for the bottle and pours all of us a shot, save for David who’s drinking cranberry juice.
“To us and our futures.” Vlad raises his shot glass.
“To us,” Blade says, his eyes not making contact as he looks at me and David.
Crystal slithers over and stands with her hands on her hips. “You boys ready for a treat?” Her flowery perfume makes me cough as she leans over, trying her hardest to catch Blade’s eye.
I need to stop drinking because I’m starting to feel sorry for her. She’s a scheming cunt 90 percent of the time, but the other 10 percent, she’s pitiful.
All she’s ever wanted was a man to love her. She kind of had it with Chuckie but he was killed so young, who knows how that would have played out.
“Crystal, my beauty.” Vlad tries to stand, but he’s in a booth, so he slumps back laughing.
She leans over me to kiss him.
And I’m done.
“I’m gonna go make sure everything is—”
“Leave me and you lose a testicle.” Blade’s green eyes find mine and I throw back my head and laugh. This day has been fucked from the beginning, but at least I have the excuse of needing to run the club.
Crystal straightens. “Vlad, Dimitri. Have you met Frenchie? She’s one of our new girls.”
She motions for a girl that I vaguely remember at the tryouts. Frenchie sashays over, her eyes trying to hold mine, but unless you’ve got platinum-blond hair and a beauty mark, I’m not interested.
“How we doing?” She smiles. “Having fun?” Her eyes dart back to mine, a clear invitation in them. As she pushes out her chest and flips her long dark hair, all of us stare at her large tits. My dick does nothing, and in a panic, I grab the bottle of vodka.
Thankfully Francesca rescues me with more bread and another bottle of Jack Daniels and Stoli for the table. Francesca is a grad student working on her doctorate. She’s a single mom supporting her son all alone.
“How much for you to sit on my face, Frenchie?” Dimitri laughs at his crudeness.
“Christ,” I growl and stand, reaching for Crystal’s arm. “Excuse us. I need a word with Crystal.” I maneuver us over to the stairs. “I’m not in the mood tonight. Did you let anyone know Blade was coming in?”
She looks like I slapped her, so I guess that’s a no.
“How fucking dare you. And you’re never in the mood,” she hisses.
I hold up a hand to stop her and her rant.
“Look, you can’t pimp out girls. This is not a fucking whorehouse.” When I glance over at the table, Frenchie is now trying to catch Blade’s eye.
She jerks her arm free. “You suck, and I’m not pimping. I’m trying to help them earn. She’s new, Axel.” Her perfume is giving me a headache. “That’s my job. Remember what a job is?”
“Go away.”
“With pleasure.” She turns and starts to walk down the stairs, passing David as she goes.
“Everyone, give it up for Destiny,” DJ Mac’s voice purrs to the crowd. He makes the laser lights go wild for Destiny who’s finishing up.
“Everything okay?” David looks from the stage to me.
“You know all of this is bullshit, right?” I say.
“Of course. You think they’re targeting you and Blade or all the Disciples?” David looks around, giving a heads-up to Destiny. She smiles and walks offstage to make her rounds.
“Who’s ready for the Pussycat’s newest pussy?” DJ Mac spins a record then. “We have a special treat… turn your eyes to our main stage, my friends. She’s one of myyyy favorites. Give it up forrrrr… Candy.”
“I Love Candy” by Bow Wow Wow blasts out of the sound system and fades out as the stage goes black.
“I said no. She wouldn’t dare,” I growl, my eyes fixated on the stage as I wait.
“Axel?” David’s voice is filled with concern, but I raise a hand, stopping him.
The music starts again but instead of Bow Wow Wow, it’s a ballad from the Stuffed Muffins.
“Fuck. Easy, brother,” David says. If it was any other time, I might take offense at his tone. Instead I don’t respond as I wait, hoping it is her because if she has enough balls to do this then…
A spotlight finds the dancer as she stands with her back to us in a fucking red tutu, long red hair, and black high heels that buckle around her ankles.
“Fucking perfect,” I murmur. It’s her. No one but Cookie has legs like that.
“Crystal lied to me saying she didn’t hire her. Did she honestly think I would not come in?” I say to David, but my eyes are not leaving Antoinette as I watch her grind to the band that my best friend created when I left.