Page 6 of Knockout (Whiskey Dolls 2)

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Gram muttered from where she was sitting, making Nona giggle as she started in on my grandmother’s hair.

“Keep it up, Gram, and I’m going to make you Uber to and from these appointments from here on out.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing full well that I was bluffing. No matter what, there wasn’t a damn thing on earth I wouldn’t do for the woman, no matter how big a pain in my ass she was.

“Well, if you insist you’re not hung up on that neighbor girl, it has to be that slimy lizard of an ex-fiancée holding you back.” She turned her head and arched a brow at me. “So which is it?”

I knew exactly what she was doing. She was goading me into doing what she wanted. The woman knew I couldn’t back down from a dare or a challenge. It was a particularly annoying weakness of mine, and the saddest part about it was that it was almost working.

The salon got so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Being pulled into this ragtag group by association meant that these busybodies already knew all about the disaster that was my failed engagement, and how epically the whole fucking thing had blown up in my face. Gram hadn’t held back a single gory detail. Now, the women in the salon were watching Gram’s and my exchange with rapt fascination; just like how you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from a train wreck no matter how gruesome it was.

“Low blow, Gram,” I ground out through clenched teeth as the muscles in my body tightened. “You know damn good and well I don’t feel anything for Leah anymore.” Other than a gnawing contempt and crippling shame at being stupid enough to fall for someone like her.

Gram harrumphed and straightened in her chair. “I should hope not. You know damn good and well I never thought that walking mannequin was good enough for you.”

I let out a sigh, reaching up to massage the space between my eyebrows. “I’m well aware,” I deadpanned. “You’ve said it many,manytimes.”

“Swear to God above, that girl has the smarts of a blowup doll. First time I met her, I wondered if she’d somehow managed to bleach out all her brain cells.” She lifted a finger in the air and declared, “Natural blonde my ass. If that dummy was a natural blonde, then I have the ass of a Kardashian.”

Snickers and laughs filled the air, and I struggled to keep from smiling myself, knowing just how accurate Gram’s description of my ex was.

“Then she went and left you for that beady-eyed weasel cousin of yours, proving that she really was the dumbest lump of skin and bones this side of the Mississippi.”

“Wait.” One of the other stylists who obviously hadn’t been working the day Gram told the whole sordid story stopped in the middle of folding a strip of foil in her client’s hair to look at my grandmother in confusion. “She left one grandson for another?”

Gram blew out a raspberry and batted her hand in the air. “Please, like I claim that other one. Knew that boy was going to come out wrong when his parents decided to name himChandler.” She curled her top lip up in disgust. “What the hell kind of name isChandler? And sure enough, he was born just as rotten as the rest of them. Bad apples, the whole freaking lot of them. Only one who wasn’t spoiled from the get-go was him.” She threw a thumb in my direction. “The rest are a bunch of money-grubbing disappointments, determined to drive the Kingsley name into the dust.”

Ms. McClintock spoke next, her blunt, no-holds-barred manner wrapped around every word. “So if it’s not the neighbor, and it’s not the overgrown dumbass Barbie who’s finger you put a ring on, then what’s the big deal with being set up with a nice, sweet girl?”

I opened my mouth to offer up a reason, but nothing came out. The only legitimate excuse I had for turning down these ladies’ offer was because I had no interest in a blind date, but something told me “Because I don’t want to” wasn’t going to fly.

I silently cursed myself just then for not waiting in my car while Gram got her hair done, or just dropping her off and going to do my own thing while she cooked under one of those hair dryers or whatever. Butno, I had to go in with her. I had to be agoodgrandson. I could actually feel my balls drawing up inside me the longer I sat there, surrounded by these women. I felt like I was under a microscope as they waited for me to come up with a believable lie that would get me out of this goddamn mess.

I ground my molars together as I glared at Gram’s grinning face. “I’ll think about it,” I finally relented a minute later.

“Oh good!” She clapped her hands and looked at Nona through the mirror as she declared. “Make sure whoever you come up with is a looker. And smart. Smart is very important. I don’t think I could survive him bringing another dummy home. Oh, and see if you can find one with childbearing hips.”

With a groan, I dropped my head back and squeezed my eyes closed. “Fuck my life.”

4

Layla

Istood tall, tossing my hair back over my head, and hit my final position just before the song beating through the speaker ended.

“Awesome! Great job, ladies,” McKenna called out from the front of the studio as she gave us a clap. “That number is going to look amazing on stage next week.”

My muscles were stinging, my skin was hot and misted with sweat, and I was grinning like a lunatic. It wasn’t an actual performance, just a rehearsal for the latest Whiskey Dolls number, but even without a crowd in front of us applauding, I got the same endorphin dump in my blood stream that I would if we were dancing front and center in the packed club.

Ilovedbeing a Whiskey Doll and performing at the club that heralded the same name. Whiskey Dolls had once been a strip club by the name of Pink Palace— majorew. It had been a serious blight on the entire county, a lot like a big, honking pimple on prom night.

McKenna—lovingly nicknamed Mac by all of us—had been a dancer there back in the day. It was where she’d met her now-husband, Bruce. He’d been a Pink Palace bouncer who was crushing hard on the little blonde pixie of a woman. When the place was all but condemned, they bought it and built it into something glorious.

Now Whiskey Dolls was a burlesque club that was so popular, people came from all over Virginia and the surrounding states just for a chance to see us perform and to experience the utter cool that was the club. The shows we dancers put on were the talk of the town and beyond, and the atmosphere of the whole place was unrivaled. In other words, it was cool as hell, and I freakinglovedthat I got to work there.

Moving to where my gym bag rested against the back wall, I grabbed my bottle of water and sucked the cool, refreshing liquid back as I patted my sweat-damp chest dry with a clean towel.

When I lowered the bottle, I saw my friend Marin sauntering my way from across the room, a shit-eating grin on her face as she was trailed by a few more of our friends. “Hi,” she chirped as she came to a stop in front of me. “How’s it going?”

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