So Toxic(Bad Boy Next Door Book 4)(278)

“Introduced?” I take a step back, looking to Sadie for an explanation.

She pops her gum. “You know—stage name? I go by Sassie.”

Shit. Stage name.

What the hell?

Okay, think. Stripper. Slutty. I blurt out the first name that pops into my head. “Honey.”

Lonnie quirks an eyebrow. “Honey?”

I shrug. “Sure, why not? Seems appropriate to me, and that’s what you called me a second ago.”

He chuckles. “All right. Honey it is.”

“Okay then, go show us what you’ve got, Honey. I can’t wait to see this.”

As I turn, his hand lands on my ass.

I spin back to face him as I step away from his groping fingers. “Anything else?”

“You can touch the guys, but they can’t touch you.”

I look him dead in the eye. “Don’t worry, if anyone, including you, gets too handsy, I’ll kick their fucking ass.”





SEVEN





Thugs One and Two help me with my lines. They’re stilted and awkward, but I can’t waste the time I have, so here we are. Plus, they don’t have to do it—it isn’t exactly in their job description.

“Hey, I appreciate you guys helping me out with this. I know it’s not the most comfortable thing for some people to read out loud, much less read from a script.” I pour each of us a drink.

They both decline when I try to hand them their glasses.

“Fine. More for me.”

By the time the crew loads onto the bus, I’m four drinks in and starting to relax.

Trudi plops into the plush chair beside mine. “Thanks for doing that. I think we got some good stuff. Now. Let’s go do something fun, or at least a little less—emotionally strenuous.”

“Yeah. Let’s do that. Hey, someone pour me another drink, will ya?”

Thug One hands me a new tumbler. I frown at him. “What’s this shit? Too much ice.”

He sighs and digs into the glass with his fingers, tossing two cubes into the small galley sink. He splashes another finger of bourbon into the cup before returning it.

I down the fiery liquid in one gulp and pass it to him again. He frowns, but pours me another anyway. Trudi grabs it before I get my hand on it, chugging, only to sputter and cough as she pulls the glass from her lips.

“That’s what you get for drinking a man’s drink.” I grin. Serves her right. Take my fucking bourbon.

She waves her hand in front of her face, her eyes watering. “Whatever. You don’t need any more of that shit right now.”

“What do you want from me, Tru? I gave you all I can give for one day.”

She nods. “All right. I get it. So…what did you do for fun when you were eighteen?”

Fun. Was eighteen ever fun?

Her face looms in my memories though. Her smile, her laugh. The way she’d snuggle into my arms. The way we laughed about everything and everyone that seemed to be working against us. I had fun with Lou. But I can’t tell Trudi that. That part of my life is off limits. The curious public doesn’t have to know every tiny detail of my past.

So I smile and lie. “There’s this little place outside of Slidell. I used to go up there with my buddy.”





I rub my sweaty palms on the backs of my camo shorts. Everything from my elbows to my knees trembles as I step onto the stage. The lights blind me for a second.

I pull back. Oh Lord, is this how Mom felt the first time she turned a trick?

Please, God, don’t let me become my mother.

No. It’s okay. I got this. Just follow Sadie—um, Sassie’s—instructions to spray and wipe the pole with the cleaning solution they keep near the side of the stage. One thing at a time.

As I spritz the brass, I train my eyes on the floor, the walls, the lights, anywhere, avoiding the faces of the handful of people in the club. Luckily, it’s pretty dead at this hour. Aside from Lonnie, his bartender, and the three bouncers stationed around the perimeter, there’s only one table of guests. They’re the ones I avoid the most as I wipe the pole.

If I don’t look, they aren’t there.

Sadie—I mean, Sassie—says they’ll play a short song. Just a short one. I can do this.

Sweat breaks out on my forehead and upper lip. I stand with my fists at my hips, feet planted shoulder width apart, trying to swallow the sick feeling that’s climbed into my mouth and throat. This feeling isn’t too different from what I got that first day of boot camp, stepping off the bus, waiting to be yelled at by the drill instructors. It’s just another day.

“Everyone, please welcome Honey to the stage.” The announcement seems to thunder through my core.

The music begins. I close my eyes as I start to move.