night is all. Cleo isn’t paying me and my creditors are chewing my ass for the money I owe them.”
“Man, I told you to stop gambling, dude. That shit’s a black hole.”
“Yeah, yeah. You pay for sex, I like poker. We all got our weaknesses, man,” I gripe, pushing down my distaste for the man.
What he’s into with women is nasty, and I hate even hearing half the shit he does when he hires one of his “birdies,” as he likes to call them.
In reality, I have more money than I can realistically spend in a lifetime, and I wouldn’t gamble with anyone but my brothers, if that. But among these people, I’m a gambler who’s split from his family, so letting him think my woes are all financial related is the only way to avoid suspicion.
Plus, I needed to turn the focus away from Mel before I did something stupid like beat him to death and rile Cleo more than she already is.
“Dude, at least I get something out of my vice. All you got is debt and misery.”
Yeah, but at least I don’t walk away from a woman leaving her crying and shamed , I think, wishing not for the first time that I could let Miah loose on this animal.
“Shut up and get us back to the warehouse already, Dyson. I’m sure Cleo is just dying to see if I came through or not, and I’d like to see her wrinkled old trout pout collapse when I prove her wrong.”
“Hell yeah, man! I hate that bitch so much sometimes. I can’t believe Jerry lets her run the show.”
Maybe Mel was right. Maybe I should get out with what I have, but whether I end up dead or not, I need to see this through and find the last player.
Chapter Six
Melissa
The bar is smoke filled and crammed to the gills the next day, thanks to Lon and his big fat mouth. I’ve had so many people up my ass about the baby that I finally lost it and took old Bertha out just to let them know how I feel about unnecessary physical displays of affection and people touching my still flat stomach.
And freaking Will, you’d swear the guy suddenly became the big brother I never had (or wanted) with the way he keeps forcing healthy foods on me and telling me to take it easy.
I swear I almost miss his lascivious looks and inappropriate comments because at least none of it was as stifling as having the men around me trying to lift everything from a bottle to a freaking teaspoon for me.
You’d swear being pregnant suddenly turned me into a weak, mewling idiot. Where before they’d all watch me carry a case of beer, stumbling under its weight, now they all jump when I so much as breathe near the storage room.
I appreciate all the concern, but after getting “home” last night and having poor Judith almost expire with happiness and stick to me like bubble gum under my shoe, I’m a tad crankier about their gestures than I probably should be.
Add Roman’s stubbornness to the mix and I’m about ready to start unloading old Bertha with an eye on the box of shells.
“Hey, darlin’, that lemon ain’t done nothing to deserve its fate,” Will says, making me jump when he pops up beside me with a grin.
I look down and see the remains of a lemon beneath my knife and grimace at the pulp that’s left of the poor thing.
“You bugging me for a reason, Sparrow, or is it just my lucky day?”
“Well, darlin’, I’d say it’s your lucky day with my attention being the golden ticket and all, but I just wanted to come on over and let you know that Lonnie spotted another of those assholes outside the bar. This one’s packing, so I called Miah and he’s coming over to get you home.”
Oh for the love of God.
“I can’t…please don’t make me go back there this early. She’ll make me try on freaking wedding dresses and shoes,” I whine pathetically. “You don’t understand.”
“Darlin’, why’s it that women always bitch and gripe about not having all the fancy shit they always want, but when they get it they moan about it
“Man, I told you to stop gambling, dude. That shit’s a black hole.”
“Yeah, yeah. You pay for sex, I like poker. We all got our weaknesses, man,” I gripe, pushing down my distaste for the man.
What he’s into with women is nasty, and I hate even hearing half the shit he does when he hires one of his “birdies,” as he likes to call them.
In reality, I have more money than I can realistically spend in a lifetime, and I wouldn’t gamble with anyone but my brothers, if that. But among these people, I’m a gambler who’s split from his family, so letting him think my woes are all financial related is the only way to avoid suspicion.
Plus, I needed to turn the focus away from Mel before I did something stupid like beat him to death and rile Cleo more than she already is.
“Dude, at least I get something out of my vice. All you got is debt and misery.”
Yeah, but at least I don’t walk away from a woman leaving her crying and shamed , I think, wishing not for the first time that I could let Miah loose on this animal.
“Shut up and get us back to the warehouse already, Dyson. I’m sure Cleo is just dying to see if I came through or not, and I’d like to see her wrinkled old trout pout collapse when I prove her wrong.”
“Hell yeah, man! I hate that bitch so much sometimes. I can’t believe Jerry lets her run the show.”
Maybe Mel was right. Maybe I should get out with what I have, but whether I end up dead or not, I need to see this through and find the last player.
Chapter Six
Melissa
The bar is smoke filled and crammed to the gills the next day, thanks to Lon and his big fat mouth. I’ve had so many people up my ass about the baby that I finally lost it and took old Bertha out just to let them know how I feel about unnecessary physical displays of affection and people touching my still flat stomach.
And freaking Will, you’d swear the guy suddenly became the big brother I never had (or wanted) with the way he keeps forcing healthy foods on me and telling me to take it easy.
I swear I almost miss his lascivious looks and inappropriate comments because at least none of it was as stifling as having the men around me trying to lift everything from a bottle to a freaking teaspoon for me.
You’d swear being pregnant suddenly turned me into a weak, mewling idiot. Where before they’d all watch me carry a case of beer, stumbling under its weight, now they all jump when I so much as breathe near the storage room.
I appreciate all the concern, but after getting “home” last night and having poor Judith almost expire with happiness and stick to me like bubble gum under my shoe, I’m a tad crankier about their gestures than I probably should be.
Add Roman’s stubbornness to the mix and I’m about ready to start unloading old Bertha with an eye on the box of shells.
“Hey, darlin’, that lemon ain’t done nothing to deserve its fate,” Will says, making me jump when he pops up beside me with a grin.
I look down and see the remains of a lemon beneath my knife and grimace at the pulp that’s left of the poor thing.
“You bugging me for a reason, Sparrow, or is it just my lucky day?”
“Well, darlin’, I’d say it’s your lucky day with my attention being the golden ticket and all, but I just wanted to come on over and let you know that Lonnie spotted another of those assholes outside the bar. This one’s packing, so I called Miah and he’s coming over to get you home.”
Oh for the love of God.
“I can’t…please don’t make me go back there this early. She’ll make me try on freaking wedding dresses and shoes,” I whine pathetically. “You don’t understand.”
“Darlin’, why’s it that women always bitch and gripe about not having all the fancy shit they always want, but when they get it they moan about it
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