Page 17 of Sling’s Awakening

I snort as I roll my eyes. When isn’t Russ being a fucking creep? “I’m alright. It’s just been a long night.”

Longer than usual, no thanks to my douchebag of a neighbor.

“Girl, I feel that,” Hex says. “It’s been packed tonight, and the money has been good, but all these men want me to listen to their sob stories while I’m rubbing up on them. Do I look like a fucking therapist to you? I’m about to start charging extra every time I have to hear about how they’re so mistreated by their girl while my tits are pressed up against them.”

“I fucking love you,” I laugh as I set the shots in front of her. “You know, some of these guys would pay for it. You can call it Hex’s T&V therapy.”

“Look at us being entrepreneurs.” Hex snickers as she takes the shots. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

I busy myself with making last call and starting to clean behind the bar so it’s quicker to close down when the time comes. I’m already dreading how long of a night this is about to be because I still have all my work in the back to do.

I smile to myself as I see Jinx leading a very smug-looking Scar back to the guys. Sling gives me one last long look before leaving, while the giant guy in his group has that same knowing smirk on his face aimed right at me. He gives me a wink before following the rest of his friends out of the club.

I guess he really didn’t want to talk to Russ after all.

Should I have gone and got him like he asked? Probably. But at this point, it’s more of a who do I hate more situation, and that person will probably always be that sleazebag. No matter how much I hate someone, I wouldn’t wish Russ’ company on anyone.

I’m sure I’m going to be the one to pay for it, though.

“It go okay?” I ask Jinx as she comes up to the bar once they’re gone.

I trust my girls that they would come to me if anything happened, but I always like to check in and make sure.

“Yeah. He was actually very respectful, which I was kind of surprised by. He wouldn’t touch me on his own. I had to put his hands on my waist.” Jinx shrugs. “Easy money and didn’t have to deal with a creep. I’ll take it.”

Huh.

I hate assuming things about people, but I’m kind of shocked too. The last few motorcycle clubs we’ve had in had to be reminded of the rules multiple times. They were smaller clubs from out of town, but they acted as if they owned us. I thought Big Jack was going to drag them out.

“Shit, I would take that too,” I tell her as I grab my stuff to head into the back. “I need to get some stuff done in the back. If you need me, come and find me. Russ is still here, by the way.”

“Ugh.” Jinx scrunches up her face. “I wish you could buy the place from him, Ginny. Working here would be a million times better.”

Me fucking too.

But to do that, I would have to make Russ an offer he wouldn’t refuse, and I’m nowhere near where I need to be to make that kind of offer. And taking out that big of a loan gives me heart palpitations just thinking about it. I almost passed out when I signed the loan for my house.

As I head into the back, I walk straight past the office and into the storage room to try to get our inventory figured out. My plan is to hope Russ leaves while I’m in there, and then I can finish up and go home, avoiding him entirely.

Lately, boxes that I didn’t order show up, and then a few days later they come up missing plus some. And the weird thing is, Russ doesn’t seem bothered by it. I do inventory after every shift because, yeah—we sell a lot of the same alcohol, but we also sell a lot of random shit. Sometimes we get guys who come in and forget about the real world while they’re here. That means they order things they wouldn’t normally get, and I like to make sure we have whatever they want on hand. That’s what has helped make us one of the better gentlemen’s clubs in the area. So at first I was chalking it up to Russ must have been ordering a little extra after going through my orders I’ve submitted. But now, I don’t think that’s what’s happening.

And for some reason, unbeknownst to me, a couple of days after a delivery comes, we’re missing cases of alcohol. Not just a couple of bottles. Fucking cases.

This has been happening for a few months now. The first time I brought it up to Russ, he blew me off and told me I probably counted wrong. I would accept that if only a couple of bottles were missing, but it’s not. There’s no way I would fuck up that badly.

And why doesn’t he care that extra inventory is getting delivered and then going missing? Like that’s your money, dude.

It’s sus as hell.

All I know is that my ass will not be on the line for this. If Russ tries to pull some sneaky shit, I will lose it.

A throat clears in the doorway of the liquor room as I’m bent over a case, counting bottles while looking over my counts from last night.

I internally sigh as I look up from my crouched position to see Russ standing in the doorway. I swear to God, nothing ever goes my way. Even the smallest ask.

“I thought I told you to come get me before the Saint’s Outlaws MC left?” he asks casually, but his wound-tight body says anything but.

“You know, I was doing this little thing called working,” I say, unable to keep the attitude out of my tone. I’m at my wit’s end with him. “They were already halfway out the door by the time I noticed. Did you want me to drag them back in and cause a scene?”