“I saw.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “The police have been called,” he assures me. “Let them do their job.”
I suck in a deep breath and then kick him one last time. “Piece of shit!”
He moans and rolls over, cradling his hand.
I look up to see Natalie walking down the stairs toward me. “Come on, Grave.” She takes my hand and pulls me away from her ex.
I walk up the three stairs and pass the bar, grabbing a drink off it as she ushers me to a back room.
“You okay?” I ask once she shuts the door behind me.
“Yeah.” She places her hands on my chest. “Thanks to you.”
I fall into a chair in the corner, and she takes a step back from me. “When was the last time you saw him?” I demand, taking another drink of the rum and Coke, trying to calm my nerves.
“Last night.”
“Jesus, Nat. You’ve got to quit seeing him.” I remove the pill bottle from my jeans pocket because it’s digging into my thigh and set it on the table next to the chair.
“We have a kid together.” She sighs.
“So? That doesn’t give him the right to disrespect you like that.” I growl. What they have is complicated, to say the least. He doesn’t want her but hates that she strips. He’s a piece of shit lowlife who doesn’t even help feed his kid. She does the best she can with the options she has.
“Hey, you need to calm down. I’m okay.”
For now, she is. But I always worry about her and his ass. He’s abusive. That’s why she left him to begin with. “You need to get a restraining order against him.” I growl.
“I have. You know that doesn’t stop him.”
“I have a friend who is a judge. I can reach out to him for you.” I’m sure the fucker has a warrant. I can have his ass thrown in jail by morning.
She gives me a soft smile. “You’re always watching out for me.”
In general, I feel sorry for women in the same position as Natalie. They have no help and limited means. She makes great money, but kids aren’t fucking cheap. Add in court and attorney fees and it’s like running in place.
“Here …” She drops to her knees before me and spreads my legs wide. When her eyes meet mine, she gives me a reassuring smile. “I brought you something.” Reaching down, she removes a baggie from her top that she slipped on after she exited the stage since her dress was wet. “Wallet?” She stands, holding out her hand to me.
I lift my hips to remove my wallet from my back pocket and hand it over to her. She opens it up, removes my black Amex card, and starts cutting the powder she pours out on the table next to my pill bottle. “You deserve it.” She then removes a hundred-dollar bill and rolls it up before handing it to me.
I’m an addict to many things. None of which are good.
_______________
I feel myself start to relax as “Pour It Up” by Rihanna begins to play in the large room. Her white top is over by the small stage to the right. She dances before me in nothing but her thong and heels.
She stands and bends over, placing her face in my neck. My right hand goes to her bare ass while my other holds my cold glass on the armrest. She still tastes like my drink the bastard threw at her. She didn’t even bother to take the time to wipe it off. I don’t mind.
She’s yanked from me. “Hey,” she snaps, turning to face the man who interrupted us. Then her voice changes to interested. “I didn’t know your friend was going to join us.”
I look up, ready to beat the shit out of her ex but look into a set of dark blue eyes that match mine. It’s my brother. They fucking called him to come and get me because I made a scene. It wouldn’t have taken him long to get here. Kingdom—the hotel and casino we own—is just down the street.
“Let’s go, Grave.” He ignores her.
I run my eyes over her ass before I down what’s left of the drink I took from the bar. Then I look up at him. “What’s the rush, Bones? Stay. Play a little.”
The man needs to let loose. He’s too uptight. You would think for as much pussy as he gets, he’d be a friendlier guy. But nope.
He growls. “Grave.”
I laugh, sinking farther into the chair. I run my hand over my T-shirt and grab my dick over my jeans. “If you don’t wanna join, then pull up a chair. You can watch.” I don’t mind an audience.
He reaches down, grabs my arm, and yanks me to a standing position. “We’re leaving,” he orders, giving me no room to argue as he begins to drag my drunk ass out of the room. “Where is Cross?”