Page 33 of Sling’s Awakening

Hex frantically nods her head at my reassurance as she tries to calm herself. “I honestly don’t know. I was running late tonight, so I came in at the end of it when she was packing her bag and leaving.”

Damn.

“Alright.” I exhale as my chest visibly rises and falls. “Finish getting ready. I’m going to go get your phone back and figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Thank you.” Hex gives me a small smile.

“No problem.” I return her smile before leaving the dressing room.

My anxiety was already high when I got the call from Crystal, but it’s almost through the roof with every step I take toward the office. I never know what I’m going to be met with. Russ is like a ticking time bomb, and I’m always the punching bag.

I take a deep breath outside the closed office door.

Here goes nothing.

I turn the handle, opening the door as I knock on it at the same time with my other hand. “Knock, knock,” I call out as I slip inside.

The sight in front of me has me freezing in place, not moving any further inside the room.

Russ is sitting behind the desk. His dress shirt is the same one he was wearing last night, except now it’s wrinkled beyond belief with a few stains littered across the chest. His hair is sticking up and out in a million different directions.

His bloodshot eyes look up from whatever he’s working on, narrowing as he takes me in. “What are you doing here?”

Jesus.

He looks like shit.

I clear my throat, trying to recover as I hide my shock. “Crystal called me and said she needed an extra set of hands because it’s busier than expected,” I lie through my teeth.

Russ grumbles something I can’t make out as he grabs the bottle of vodka that maybe has an inch of liquid left in it and takes a swig straight from it, ignoring the glass right beside it.

Unbelievable.

“What?” I ask with a small bite to my tone as I arch my eyebrow.

My shock is being replaced with anxiety-fueled rage.

If he’s going to say something smart, he can grow a pair of balls and say it loud enough for me to hear, and not under his breath.

Russ sets the bottle down on the desk harder than necessary as he lets out a burp. “I said I don’t need your ass here so you can take your ass home.”

My eyes widen as my brows raise and my head sways slightly.

I can take my ass home?

“Respectfully,” you can go fuck yourself, “from where I’m standing, it looks like you do need my ass here because if something goes down, you’re not in any shape to deal with it.”

Russ leans back in his seat, his glassy, bloodshot eyes barely able to focus on me. “You need to remember your place. I’m getting really sick of reminding you.”

And I’m getting sick of having to deal with you as a fucking boss.

“You’re drunk, Russ.”

“Do I need to remind you of the time when you were a dancer and came in trashed off your fucking ass for your shift and I didn’t say shit? I sent you home and told you to sleep it off. It’s called mind your own damn business. Maybe it’s best you start doing that, or things might be changing around here. Changes you won’t like.”

My body stiffens as I clench my fists, feeling my nails dig into my palms. It hurts, but the anger I’m feeling flowing through my veins is making me numb to the pain.

“Are you threatening me?”