Page 91 of Bad Boy Next Door
“You were going to.”
He fucking deserved it.
I choked down my ire. I needed to think before I spoke. “I won’t do it again.”
“You betcha you won’t, because you won’t be getting on that stage again.”
I inhaled away my brief disappointment. Waitressing wasn’t the worst thing in the world. But I had liked the rush of being on stage and the extra cash from my one set as a dancer. “Okay. I’m good waiting tables.”
“You don’t get it,” he said, way too pleased with himself. “You’re fired.”
“Fired?” I stepped forward. “Wait a second.” My mind spun. I’d never been fired. From any job. I’d been worried that Nick might get fired for attacking that man, but me? Talk about blaming the victim. “That asshole came a half inch from sticking his fingers inside me, but I get fired?”
“Dancers gotta set boundaries,” Stan crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “If a customer breaks them, she can’t go and attack him.”
“I didn’t—” I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to bring Nick into this. But if I’d been canned for my part in the man’s beating, Nick would definitely be fired. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
He shrugged.
“I’m willing to apologize to the customer. It was my first time on stage and no one explained the rules. I mean, shouldn’t I get a second chance?”
“This ain’t kindygarten.”
“They why not let me keep waitressing? Didn’t I do a good job?” The air in the room had thickened, making it hard to breathe.
I hadn’t gone a day without working since I was twelve. Back then, Ximena had paid me under the table for sweeping up hair, washing towels and taking out the trash at her salon in front of our tiny apartment.
I’d had to quit that job when Frank got us evicted, and after that, I’d taken charge of paying rent, along with the all the other bills, appreciating but never again depending on my father’s contributions.
“It’s not fair…”
“My place, my rules,” Stan sneered. “Unless…”
“What?” I stepped forward both angry and hopeful.
He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. “I’ll let you suck me off. Do a good job, and I mean I fucking expect to seestars, then maybe you get a few shifts.”
His dick got hard under his leopard-print underwear. Yuck.
“Come on then.” He cupped his package. “Don’t got all day.”
Every instinct inside me wanted to ram my knee into that package, but the prospect of unemployment tightened my chest and stirred my stomach. Or maybe that last one was caused by Stan’s dick.
“Get over here.” Stan’s eyes narrowed. “Get your fucking mouth on my dick, bitch. I was going to be nice about it, but now, I think I’m going to choke you out.”
I pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the cops.”
“What?” He zipped up his fly.
“I think they might be interested to find out how the girls go fully nude in a place that sells alcohol. That’s illegal in this city last time I checked.”
Stan laughed as he walked toward me. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, you cunt. You know who owns this place?” He lunged and grabbed my arm.
I tried to knee him, but he outmaneuvered me—way faster and stronger than I expected.
