So Trashy (Bad Boy Next Door Book 2)(14)

I cock my head to the side. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

His grin fades, but then renews itself. “Ah, you’re funny. Well, the last few years have been good to you, Honey.”

Sadie throws her arm around my shoulder. “Lou’s looking for a job. I told her you might have an opening, especially since Valorie left last week.”

Again, Lonnie takes his time looking me over. His eyes seem to touch every bump and dip. “You know, I kinda always expected to see you come looking for a job here some day. Took you longer than I thought it would.”

My nails dig into my palms. It’s all I can do not to turn and stalk out.

Remember, this is for Aunt Delores. She needs me.

Lonnie pulls the toothpick from the corner of his mouth and points to the staircase on the far wall. “Go on up and change. I’ll give you an audition.”

I swallow my trepidation and nod. “Thanks.”

“No club dancing; that shit’s not for the stage.”

I nod. Fuck if I know the difference between club and stage dancing, but I’ll get a quick one-oh-one from Sadie.

He points to the DJ behind the short wall in the corner. “How do you want to be introduced?”

“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.