Page 36 of No Saint
I hung up before she could finish, and felt awful for it, but I just couldn’t hold it together. My palms braced against the washer top, and I dropped my head forward, feeling the weight of my responsibilities crush me. I wanted to hope that those magic, two-hundred-dollar pills really would help him, but I was all out of hope and positivity for the day.
The creak of floorboards behind me sounded over the washer. “Jesus, Rogue is such a dick.” Cassie appeared beside me. “Trying to sell me like some kind of cheap whore. I mean—” Her hand landed on my shoulder—“Hey, are you okay?”
I turned to face her, hoping I looked better than I felt. “I’m fine.”
Her brows crumpled as she studied my face. “What happened? Was Wolf an asshole? I thought?—”
“No. He’s… It’s fine. My Mom called.”
“Oh shit. Your dad?”
“The doctors put him on new drugs.”
“That’s…” A frown pulled at her features. “Good, right? If they work?”
God, I was such an asshole. “Yeah, it is. I just need to find another two hundred a month to pay for it.” Which I wouldn’t mind if I thought those pills would actually cure him.
Cassie knew my situation inside and out. From Lonely Fans to picking up extra shifts to pick-pocketing… She and Monroe had been through it all with me.
“I’ll be fine.” I brushed lint off the dryer. “I just need to find some cash.” Like it just grew on trees.
“So, let’s go to The Platinum Club tonight.”
The last thing I wanted to do was go to that bar, but the thought of sitting in Wolf’s room, stressing myself out, not doing anything, was unappealing.
“Rogue isn’t chaining you to his bed until he auctions you off?” I asked.
“He’ll probably try. Which is exactly why we should go. Right now!” She gripped my shoulders and steered me away from the washer. “Two birds, one stone. We have two hours until curfew. Now, let’s turn you into a honey-trap.”
A honey-trap meant a too short dress that showed way more cleavage than I was comfortable with, but in a place like The Platinum Club, it provided a degree of anonymity amongst the hookers who frequented the place. The clientele was middle-aged men, most of whom didn’t look beyond the legs and tits they thought I was selling. I tucked a stranger’s wallet into my purse, then cut through the thin haze of smoke, able to feel the eyes crawling over my exposed skin.
The low buzz of conversation mixed with the twang of country music as I shouldered through the cloying scent of beer, body odor, and Old Spice to take a seat at the bar. I could see Cassie waiting in the corner of the room, her red dress hard to miss.
I’d barely adjusted myself on the rickety stool before an older man in a denim jacket and cowboy hat sat beside me.
He flashed me a toothy grin. “What’s a purdy thing like you doing all by her lonesome?” His gaze dragged over me.
I reminded myself why I was doing this. My mom. My dad… I forced a smile that I hoped hid my disgust. “Just waiting on a friend…”
“Welp, I tell you what…” He leaned to the side and pulled out his wallet. “Why don’t you let ole’ Harold here buy you a drink while you wait?” God, he was actually talking about himself in the third person.
“Oh, I’m good.” I didn’t trust anyone to give me a drink and sure as hell not in a place like this. “Thank you, though.”
His hand landed on my knee, and I tensed. As much as that touch made my skin crawl, I forced myself to remain seated.
“Oh, come on now. A lady always enjoys a drink. How ‘bout one of them fancy sex on the beach drinks you women love?”
He flagged down the bartender, and I caught a flash of red from the corner of my eye. Thank God. I didn’t want to talk to this guy any longer than necessary.
Cassie slid onto the empty stool on the other side of him, and his neck practically broke. “Oh, well, hello there.” She swept a finger over the brim of his hat. “Cowboy.” Man, she knew how to lay it on thick…
While he was busy gawking at her, I carefully slipped two fingers in the pocket of his worn denim jacket, snagged his wallet, and dropped it into my bag.
“Really?” I said, gripping his wrist and tossing his hand off my leg. “I’m right here!” I huffed, then hopped off the stool and stormed away.
It never failed to amaze me when a guy seriously thought two separate girls, half his age, actually wanted him. I needed some ofthatoverconfidence. Or perhaps he just thought we were hookers fishing for a John.
Right before I reached the corridor that led to the restrooms, someone grabbed my arm.
