Page 33 of Ghost's Obsession

“Are you finished gossiping about me yet, Chastity?”

I whip my head around.

Brittany stands a few feet away, arms crossed over the front of her property cut. The expression on her face isn’t angry. It’s worse than angry, irritated, or annoyed. It’s simply bored.

Chastity freezes. Color floods her cheeks. She stammers out, “Oh, no, Britt, I wasn’t being snarky. Honestly.”

“You weren’t talking about how my man chose me over the whole damn bullpen?” Brittany asks sweetly, one eyebrow arched. “Or how I’m here wearing his property cut while you’re still standing around hoping someone notices you?”

Chastity’s mouth opens. Closes. Brittany steps closer, smiling just wide enough to flash teeth.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. You’ve got nothing but lies falling out of that pie hole of yours lately. And I don’t want to hear my name cross your lips again. Understand?”

Chastity bucks up in a display of bravado.

“I can say anything I want. Don’t think that because you’re an old lady now that you’re better than me.”

“But I am better than you. Not because I’m an old lady but because I learned you can’t mindlessly bully and torment innocent people for no other reason than my own amusement. You haven’t learned that yet. You have zero insight into your own personality flaws. That’s something you need to work on. Now, you need to know that if my name comes out of your mouth again, I’ll have you thrown out the damn door. And before you give me any sass, you know I can do that. Unlike you, the brothers like and respect me.”

Chastity just stands there staring at her with her mouth drawn into a sour pout.

Brittany doesn’t cut her slack though. Instead, she prompts Chastity,

“The only words I want to hear coming out of your mouth are yes ma’am.”

The still-pouting club girl murmurs, “Yes, ma’am,” and then slinks away without another word, practically sprinting towards the back hallway where the restrooms are located.

Brittany watches her go, then slides onto the barstool next to mine like she’s been planning it all along. She bumps my shoulder lightly with hers.

“Sorry you had to listen to that mess,” she says, calm and easy. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

I shake my head, still stunned.

“Of course not. I need to learn whatever wicked magic you were weaving there.”

She grins.

“Exactly. You’re gonna need someone to teach you the real rules around here.”

Brittany flags down the prospect behind the bar and orders two drinks—soda for her, cranberry juice for me.

The moment the glasses hit the bar, she nudges mine towards me.

“Drink,” she says. “Hydration’s important for you right now.”

I blink at her. She just smiles, softer this time.

“Ghost didn’t tell me. It’s written all over you, girl. Don’t worry. Nobody’s saying shit.”

I wrap my hands around the cool glass, grateful for the distraction if nothing else.

Brittany leans her elbows on the bar and tilts her head towards me like we’re swapping secrets.

“Chastity’s right about one thing,” she says. “Most club girls don’t end up with a patch on their back.”

I frown.

“I thought that was kind of the goal of being a club girl.”

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