His eyes widen a bit as if he’s afraid of what is going to come out of my mouth next. “What’s that?”
“Thank you,” I say with a confident nod. “That’s what I need to say to you. Thank you.”
He tips his head to the side and stares at me for several seconds before he asks, “What’s that now?”
“Thank you,” I say again. He raises a hand and runs it over his chin, trying to figure out what I’m talking about. So I explain it further. “If it hadn’t been for you, I never would’ve had the courage to stand up to that guy at the beach or the punk who touched my ass tonight.” I realize he doesn’t know about the guy at the beach, but that’s okay. He’ll get the point. “I have decided that I am no longer going to let jackasses walk all over me. And I owe that all to the way that you treated me, Mr. Stone. So…thank you for teaching me a valuable life lesson.”
The look on his face is priceless as he stares at me, trying to figure out how to respond. I’m done discussing whatever it is we are talking about, so I step up to him, kiss him quickly on the cheek, and then turn to go, sidestepping some boxes lined up by the door.
I’m in such a hurry to get away from him, it hardly registers that he has packing boxes in his office, and they seem to be ready to go. Where he’s going, I don’t know, and I’m not going to ask.
With my bag in my hand, I head out to my car, satisfied that our discussion accomplished what I needed it to. I hum along to the song on the radio and wear a smile on my face all the way home.
When I get to my apartment, I lock up the Gremlin and head inside to get a snack and go to bed, but once I’m situated on the couch, I can’t help but think about how much I hate my shitty car. Granted, it’s always gotten me from point A to point B, but it’s not reliable, and as Hunter once told me, it really is a death trap.
As I snack on a bowl of popcorn with M&Ms in it, I search for new cars on my phone. At first, I’m looking for sensible used cars, but then I realize, I have quite a bit of money saved up. With this tip I got tonight, I can actually afford a new car. It doesn’t have to be as expensive and flashy as Hunter’s car, but I can afford something nicer than another used vehicle that will only last so long, so I change my search and look up new cars in the area and am happy to see several that I like.
A new car is just the tip of the iceberg for me. I can afford a new apartment soon, too, if the tips keep coming in like this. I try to imagine myself in a nice penthouse apartment, and it brings a smile to my face. I would love to buy a house one day. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to afford even a little bungalow in LA, but it’s nice to dream. Perhaps, one day, I will be able to afford a beautiful house on the beach. As long as I’m dreaming, I may as well dream big.
CHAPTER29
HUNTER
“Ijust hope it’s a relatively slow night,” Ethan tells me as I stand near the bar with him and Brandon, who has just polished off a burrito. “I feel like I have had my fair share of bouncing lately.”
“Your backup is here tonight,” Brandon reminds him, wiping his mouth on a napkin that already has hot sauce all over it. “Maybe you can just hang out in the back all night.”
They both chuckle under their breath. “Nah, the kid’s okay, but he still takes a little babysitting.”
The two of them continue to go on about what they think the night will bring, and I pretend to listen, but my eyes are glued to Meghan. Her shift just started not long ago, and we’re not that busy tonight, so I can see her easily enough as she sashays across the floor. She’s so smokin’ hot. I wish I could’ve gotten her to say more to me the other night when I pulled her into my office. I wish I could’ve gotten her to do more with me, but all I’d gotten was a quick peck on the cheek that had left me longing for more.
Ethan says something that has them both laughing, as usual, and I laugh along, even though I have no fucking idea what he’s said, but then, my eyes hone in on who is coming through the door, and every trace of humor is washed away from me.
Not only did Waylen Nyx just enter my club, but he’s also talking to Meghan. “Shit,” I mutter under my breath as she shows him to a table. For a moment, they cross behind a group of dancers, and I lose sight of them.
“What’s up, bossman?” Brandon asks me.
I’m shaking my head and stepping in their direction as I answer. “Mr. Nyx is here,” I tell them. “What the fuck could he possibly want?”
“Who the hell knows?” Ethan says. “With him, you can never tell.”
“But I know that it won’t be good.” I clap him on the back and head off, trying to figure out where Meghan took them.
“I’m going to head back to my station, but holler at me if you need something,” Ethan tells me, which I appreciate.
I am threading my way across the dance floor when one of our regulars, a blonde who is always twirling all over the fucking place, nearly collides with me. I sidestep her and come face to face with a beautiful blonde.
And her expression tells me something is wrong.
“What’s up?” I ask, fighting the urge to reach for her. “What happened?” If Mr. Nyx dared to put his fucking hands on her, I will rip them off of his body and shove them up his ass, and I don’t give a flying fuck who he is.
Without a word, Meghan holds up the shiny metallic object in her hand. It’s a gold key. “He gave me this,” she explains. “That guy who just came in here? Middle-aged with the paunch, expensive suit.”
I nod. I know who she’s talking about. “Mr. Waylen Nyx,” I tell her. “The record producer.”
“Oh,” she says, though she still looks lost. “That’s cool. Anyway…”
“Where is he now?” I ask her, trying to look over her shoulder but not managing to rip my eyes off her.