Page 16 of Sin Wagon
Pulling into the parking lot, I cut the engine and get out of the car, straightening my tie as I head to the door. Their signaturecoconut smell permeates the air, almost suffocating me as I pay the cover and find a table on the floor. A server comes up and I don’t even let her get a word in before I give her my order. “Old Fashioned, light ice.”
It’s the same thing I get everytime I drink, but why change a good thing?
She blinks at me in shock a few times before she leaves the table, only to return a few minutes later with my drink. Absentmindedly, I hand her my card for a tab, but pay her no mind. My eyes are on the stage, waiting to see if Opal comes out.
Two hours pass and Opal hasn’t been on the stage or making the rounds on the floor to increase sales and get private dances. Waving the server over and leaning back in my chair as I wait for her.
“Everything alright, baby?” she coos, putting a hand on the table and bending down so I get a better look at her cleavage.
“Yeah, is Opal coming in tonight?”
“Opal? No, she won’t be in tonight,” she replies, leaning toward me, so her tits are closer to my face.
“When is her next shift? She gave me a dance last time I was here, and it was the best I ever had,” I tell her, hoping that if I keep to the club and just want a dance, she’ll be more ready to share the schedule with me.
“She doesn’t work here anymore.” She rolls her eyes. “We have plenty of other girls who are better dancers and are here now.”
“No thanks. I’ll take my card, so I can go.” I wave my hand, dismissing her from my table.
She rolls her eyes and huffs before straightening and storming toward the bar.
I have no interest in any of these other dancers. I want to know where the hell Opal is and why she doesn’t work hereanymore. The server returns with my card and as she drops it on the table, she turns to walk away, but I grab her wrist.
“Can you tell me Opal’s real name? I’m trying to find her.”
“Go to hell. Whatever deal she’s wrapped up in, I want nothing to do with. She never talked to anyone but Ruby, too stuck up.” She rips her hand away from me and stomps her pouty ass to the next table to lay it on thick with them.
Well, this night just went to hell. How the hell am I going to find this woman now? Looking for a blonde stripper in Las Vegas is like looking for a needle in a haystack.
I had high hopes that she would be here tonight and I could plead my case, take her out, and end with me feasting on her cunt. Then I’d fuck her into agreeing to stay with me while I’m here this weekend. Now, I guess I’ll head to my hotel and get some sleep, deal with these interviews tomorrow, and maybe they can move my flight up to tomorrow night instead of Sunday. It’s not like flights between Chicago and Las Vegas are hard to come by. I don’t feel like sticking around if I’m not going to see my girl, and that’s saying something, since I’m a bachelor in Sin City.
Chapter 9
DELILAH
I stretch, feeling the familiar soreness in my legs and feet from a day on them at the coffee shop. My belly is slightly rounded now, a testament to the little life growing inside of me. I smile, feeling the tiny flutters and kicks of my baby, who we’re still calling Little Boba. It's surreal to think there's a whole human being forming inside me. I’m five months along, and those first gentle movements feel like delicate butterfly wings fluttering against my insides.
Today, Derek and I are heading out to try to find a place to call home. With no word from the baby’s father, we've decided to do this together. Derek has been my rock, and moving in together feels like the right step for us and Little Boba. We need more space, so we're hunting for a three-bedroom apartment: one bedroom for each of us and one for a nursery, which we’ve decided will have a cute monster theme.
“Come on, babe, we gotta get going if we wanna be at the first place on time,” Derek calls from the living room.
“I'm coming, just let me pee one more time.” Pregnancy has turned my bladder into a ticking time bomb, and I feel like I'm peeing every twenty minutes. I do my business and wash my hands, smoothing a few flyaways in the mirror.
“Okay, I'm ready.”
We head down to Derek’s car, and I climb inside, giggling.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, starting the engine.
“I’m just thinking that I’m literally a passenger princess. You drive me everywhere now that I’m pregnant.”
“I don’t mind. I wanna make sure you’re safe,” he assures me with a smile. “How’s the barista life treating you by the way? You looked like hell when you got off today.”
I roll my eyes. “I fucking hate it. The uniform is cringy, and no one is pleasant to be around. I think it could be a fun place to work, but every single coworker is a fucking downer.”
“That sucks,” he says sympathetically.
“It does. But I’m hoping that while I’m on maternity leave, I can pull in enough clients that I won’t need that job anymore.”
