My 3 Rockstar Bosses
Page 4
“We bribed them,” murmured one, blinking like a lost cow. Pink female flesh shimmered under the fluorescent lights. Back in the day, we might have went for it.
“What the?” rasped Trent. “Those fuckers are fired. As of now.”
“Yeah, which one of them let you back here?” I demanded.
“Huh? The cute one let us—I mean…oops!” Mandy slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that!”
She was as dumb as a bag of rocks.
“I don't give a shit what he looked like,” Trent snarled. “Taking money for access? No shit, sayonara to the whole crew.”
Those assholes were done for. Their actions were a serious breach of contract. Females penetrating right into our inner sanctum? Absolutely inappropriate.
It didn’t matter who did it. The others should have stopped him.
The girls were still staring at us, wide-eyed and hopeful.
“Out,” rasped Trent, his glare dangerous. “Now.”
The naked groupies gasped, seemingly confused by our orders. Wobbling like baby deer, they staggered towards the door. One of them looked at me, eyes bulging and pleading.
You’re not my type, baby girl. Not even close. I like real, luscious women, not tits on a stick.
We treated our fans worse than farmers treated livestock.
I’m such an asshole.
“You heard the man,” Nick hissed. “Get the hell out.”
And with that, they were gone. There was no more talk, no more negotiating, no more pleading. The girls wobbled out, as naked as the day they were born.
They asked for it. Not my fault that they don’t know how to act.
Finally, the big door slammed shut again, leaving us in peace.
Thank God.
Unbelievably, a soft rap sounded mere seconds later.
“Go away!” Trent shouted. “We’re not interested!”
What now? Why can’t these girls leave us alone? Had they not seen the two naked chicks who’d been booted just a second ago?
“Sir?” came a soft voice from behind the heavy wood. “Excuse me, sir?”
In a murderous rage, I pushed past Trent and opened the door, ready to bellow at the unfortunate soul standing there.
But the angry words were caught in my chest, because instead of yet another skanky twig, there was a girl there. She was innocent and sweet, with large doe eyes and cute pink lips.
“H-h-hi,” she stammered. “H-hi, I-I’m Katy, your new assistant. I-I have some bottled water for you?”
This chick was everything we ever wanted—soft and gorgeous, with assets to spare. It was more than that, though. She was the complete opposite of our usual groupie following. Instead of being dressed in some glittery number, the brunette’s pretty shape was covered in a white polo shirt and khaki pants. I hadn’t seen a woman wear actual pants in so long. Covered legs were actually a little startling.
She certainly wasn’t a groupie. There was an official-looking lanyard around her neck with the word “Katy” printed in block letters.
Holy shit.
The brunette was the real deal. Our new assistant.