Page 30 of Cold Foot Revenge
Roxy startled hard, and tossed the bodysuit over her shoulder, covering her neck. “I’ll be ready,” she rushed out.
“Not you,” Nick said. “The boys want a word before you dance.”
“The boys,” she murmured, watching Nick make his way out of the door.
“Meet in the office,” he told her. “Five minutes.” His voice was hard as a shard of glass, and emotionless.
Usually, she and the bartender were good. He was part of the Grit-Bron Crew, but wasn’t super high in the ranks, and had just been Turned last year. He was kind of a sleeper member, like her.
It was weird that the guys had sent him in here to get them moving. Usually it was Reeves, the DJ, who kept them on task through the intercom so they didn’t miss his music cues.
Fuck, she felt like she was in trouble.
Roxy looked at the bite mark in the mirror again, and it looked so obvious to her, even with all the make-up packed onto it.
Dylan! What the hell had he done?
Her phone vibrated in her purse, and she scrambled to take it out. The text was from Dylan. Simply, it said,I really do give a damn. Have a good shift tonight, Yote. Let me know when you get home safe.
Aw, he cared.
No, no, no, she was trying to be angry with him, not getting butterflies in her stomach over the nice things he said.
“You have zero percent make-up on,” Gretchen pointed out. “And no offense but you are a dog without it. None of those men out there are going to pay for that.” She circled her finger at her face. “You owe me twenty-bucks, princess to-good-for-all-this. Glue some fuckin’ false eyelashes on, and let’s go.”
Twat Face was right. Roxy wasn’t anywhere near ready. In a rush, she stripped out of her clothes, and into a thong, then pulled the ripped-up bodysuit over it and carefully positioned the high neck as tucked up under her chin as she could. She shoved her feet into a pair of black platform heels and left her legs bare except for a few squirts of glitter spray. She pulled onher wig and rushed through her make-up job, hands shaking by the end of it.
Why did the guys want to talk to her? Why?
The girls all left to take their places up on their stages, and as the last shift filtered in through the door, smelling like sweat and perfume, she said her hellos quickly. She finished tying her bejeweled coyote mask onto her face and made her way to the office. She lifted her fist to knock, blew out three quick breaths, and…was yanked inside.
She yelped, but there was a hand over her mouth. The lights were off, and her shifter vision kicked in quickly. She smelled Nick, and they were alone in here. She shoved him off her and parted her lips to let him have it.
“Shhh,” he said, and the desperation in his eyes quieted the lecture in her throat.
What?She mouthed, looking around frantically. They weren’t allowed to be in here.
He held one finger up, and then made his way behind the desk, and arched his eyebrows at her as he opened the minifridge that was hidden under it. He pulled out a plastic bag, and what she saw in there shocked her.
There were both parts of the Turn Dose in there. He lifted up another. And another. Then put them back.
What the fuck?she mouthed. Wait. There were Turn Doses here? Not in Grave’s house anymore? Or were there more there? Why were they here? The Crew hadn’t stored Turn Doses here since the Garret days.
Nick stepped around the desk, and there was a folder in his hand. He leaned against her ear as he placed the folder in her hand. “Our alcohol vendor went down, so I came in here and looked through our old vendors to try and find a Band-Aid. This was in there. Take it somewhere quiet. Go.”
What was happening? Why was Nick showing her any of this?
Nick shoved the door open and looked out, then gestured for her to follow.
She filed out of there and hugged the folder to her chest as she headed for the one place she knew no one would bother her. Roxy made her way into the dressing room and right past the chattering dancers and back into the last bathroom stall and closed the door, then locked it behind her.
She read the tab on the folder.Coyote.
What she found inside that folder made no sense.
No sense at all.
Roxy lowered the lid of the toilet and sank down onto it in shock. She rifled through the resumes, faster and faster. They were hers. It was the resumes she’d turned in around town when she’d been searching so hard for a job. Who had done this? Who had tracked all of these down?
