So Trashy (Bad Boy Next Door Book 2)(16)
Lou growls as she limps to me, her platform shoes in one hand, my ripped T in the other. She shoves the shirt into my chest and follows it with a solid punch to my gut. The air whooshes from my lungs as I double over. Damn, she got better at that.
“Buck, you’re an asshole.”
I suck in a gasp of air. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
This is not what she was supposed to end up doing.
She snatches her top and a lacy bra from the floor, covering her naked breasts. “I’m here not getting a job that I need, because now I can’t fucking dance, you jackass.”
She turns away, limping off the stage, mumbling, “Damned shoes. I knew I should’ve worn my combat boots.”
I take a step to follow her, but the hold on my arms tightens behind me.
“Oh, no you don’t.” The guy who has hold of me pushes me to the stairs leading off the stage.
At the bottom of the steps, the bouncer lets go of my arms. Probably because Lonnie-fucking-Fisher stands there with a sawed-off shotgun pointed at my crotch.
“Wow, it’s almost like a god damned class reunion . All these blasts from the past.”
I spit in his face. “Fuck you, Fisher.”
He wipes his chin with the back of his arm and grins as he slams the butt of the gun into my gut. A sharp pain explodes all the way into my balls.
I snatch the weapon from him and flip it, popping him above the eye with the stock.
He staggers backward as his hands fly up to cover the cut seeping blood over his eyebrow. “What’d you do that for?”
“Shits and giggles and old time’s sake.”
Thugs One and Two flank me. Lonnie eyes the shotgun. My crew gathers around, trying to herd me to the door.
Trudi’s hand tugs on my arm. “C’mon. Let’s head on out before this makes the fucking news.”
I scan the room. She’s nowhere in sight.
I call, “Lou, where are you?”
Shuffling of feet and girls’ whispers are the only noise as I wait.
No answer.
I left her here to go to college, and she ends up on a stage, fucking taking her clothes off. I couldn’t have failed her more miserably.
I bellow. “Lou!”
“Leave me the fuck alone, Buck.”
She comes around a mirrored column, barefoot, her top in place, her bra hanging off her fingers. She favors her right foot, though she’s obviously trying to hide her pain. Her skyscraper shoes are missing; in their place is a purse.
Trudi tugs at my arm again. “Isn’t that your grandparents’ neighbor? Why do you give a shit if she dances?”
My eyes don’t leave Lou as she passes us on her way to the door. “Because, she’s my—”
Lou looks back, throwing a glare so hard it pricks my chest. “I’m no one.”
EIGHT
I hold my chin up as I head to the door. All eyes follow me as I try to ignore the sharp stab of pain shooting through my ankle with every step. It’s fine though; I’ve dealt with worse and pressed on.
So much for all that money for Aunt Delores. Damn it.
“Hey!” Lonnie’s voice halts me.
I turn, avoiding looking at Buck or his gang. I raise an eyebrow to Lonnie, letting him know I’m listening.
“You come on back when that feels better.” He looks to Buck, though he’s still speaking to me. “I might give you that job. Of course, to make sure you can deliver a performance worthy of this fine establishment, I’ll need you to give me a lap dance in the private room.”
Without hesitating—not even a heartbeat—Buck jerks, and the butt of the gun sinks into Lonnie’s potbelly, air rushing out of his repulsive mouth with a grunt. He grabs his stomach, doubling over, but his eyes find mine as he grins anyway.
Just like in high school, disgust slinks over my skin. I turn away and drag my gimpy ass outside.
I throw the car into drive as Sadie and Buck spill out of the doors. I fishtail out of the parking lot, humiliation following like a demon from hell. Might as well serve me up on a platter for the entire world to laugh at once again.
Why the hell did I do this to myself? Frustration wells up, and I bang on the steering wheel with the flat of my hand as I hit the gas.
I adjust the ice pack on my ankle, propping it on the chair across from me. I swipe at the mosquito buzzing in my ear as I lean back in the broke-ass lawn chair that Uncle Manny probably meant to fix but never did.
The leaves quiver in the gentle wind, the light long ago faded behind them. I turn on the lamp at my side as crickets and frogs crank up the volume.
I heave a sigh. I lied to Aunt Delores yesterday evening, something I haven’t done since the day we met. But it’s for the best. She’d be disappointed and lecture me about how she can take care of her own business.