Page 18 of Bad Boy Next Door
“Oh.” Sounded as bad or worse than the jobs I’d quit.
“You should make good bank waiting tables, though, as long as you keep your orders and the money straight. Don’t let the bartenders rip you off,” Melodie added. “Make sure they don’t overcharge you. And keep track of your tips. Tuck them in here.” She tugged on the waistband of my skimpy silver panties.
“Thanks.”
She stepped back, eyeing me critically. “Can you dance?”
“Dance?”
“If money’s what you’re after—and really, why would you be working here unless you need money—you’d do way better dancing. You’ve got a cute little bod. Make the most of it.”
“No way,” I said too quickly and probably too sharply, given how Melodie raised her eyebrows.
Now I’d offended her. “I mean… I don’t have any experience. I’d probably suck.”
Melodie shrugged.
“Why are you still in here?” Angel shot me an angry look.
“Don’t listen to Miss Grumpy.” Melodie nudged my hip with her curvaceous one, then a look of realization came over her face. “I saw you the other day, right? At Shitty Melrose?”
“Shitty what?”
Melodie grinned. “Shitty Melrose. From that 90’s TV showMelrose Place? My mom used toloveit. That’s what I call Shady Oaks ’cause it reminds me of the apartments in that show—but shittier. I saw you there, right? With Nick?”
“Oh, yeah.” I nodded. “You were coming home from a run or something?”
“That’s right, neighbor.” She grinned. “You moved into 311?”
“Yup.”
“I’m in 302, across the courtyard, if you ever need anything.”
“Thanks.” I headed toward the door.
Angel stepped in front of me. “You know Nick?”
“He’s my next-door neighbor.”
“Stay away from him.” Angel’s eyes narrowed, and she stuck out her balloon-like tits.
“Excuse me?”
“Hands off him, bitch. That man and his big dick are mine.”
“In your dreams, Angel,” said Melodie.
Angel shot Melodie a murderous look, then redirected it at me.
“I’m serious,” she said, poking her finger into my chest. “Lay a hand on Nick, I’ll cut you.”
I squared my stance. “Touch me again, and I’ll cutyou.”
Angel backed off a bit, clearly all bark. I didn’t plan to lay a finger, or anything else, on Nick, but I was not about to be intimidated by this chick.
“Besides,” Angel said, “if it’s one of the Downey brothers you’re after, you should go after Keagan.”
“Keagan? Who’s that?”
“Don’t you knowanything?” Angel shook her head, and the balloons on her chest bobbed. “He’s the Downey brother in charge. The smartest, the richest.”
“And the hottest,” Melodie added, then went back to applying her lipstick.
“Seriously, though,” Angel said. “Hands off Nick.”
“Fine.” I pushed past her and into the hall.
Once outside, I leaned back on the wall, trying to process the interaction. According to my dad, Nick was the one who’d arranged the deal—the head honcho, the one pulling the strings. But if Angel and Melodie were right, it sounded like Nick had someone tugginghisstrings. Someone named Keagan. Was I showing gratitude to the entirely wrong guy?
