8. Ozzie
8
OZZIE
One of Boone’s stipulations for the tournament requires us to stay in the hotel he’s selected for us. He’s apparently cut a deal with hotelier Carlito Estrada, who owns and operates the Azure Sol Resort she’s got no shortage of curves either.
As she turns to shimmy into the pleated skirt, I’m gifted an unobstructed view that makes heat flood my crotch. The curve of her ass looks so damn smackable, so fucking enticing that my hand damn near develops a mind of its own, hoping to cop a feel.
She slides into the sky-high heels, making her already long legs look even more never ending. How long would it take me to run my hands down those silky, shapely dark stems?
I’m damn near in a trance when she finally seems to remember she’s not alone. She spins around to glare at me.
“Are you going to get dressed, Gallagher?” she snaps. “You said it yourself. We should get used to being around each other. There might be times when we… see each other. Now hurry up!”
But her nipples are staring at me.
The two little beads push against the fabric of her crop top and scramble all the words in my brain.
I blink and clear my throat, resentful that I’m fucking hot all over. “Trust me, Strauss… I’ve got no problem with nudity. But you… I’d never expect it.”
She steps in front of the mirror, slipping on a wig cap over her cornrows. Tonight she’s donning a bright, shoulder-length neon-blue wig with bangs.
It just makes her look even sexier. Some hot anime Black chick in a short, pleated skirt straight out of some hentai fantasy.
“You never expect what out of me?” she asks, admiring herself in the mirror.
“Stripping down like nothing. Not that I’m complaining. I enjoyed the view.”
She glares at me in the mirror, though I detect the slightest hint of her lips twitching, like she’s tempted to smile.
Teasing her is quickly becoming one of my favorite past times.
She fights off the smile and then gestures to my duffel bag. “What are you waiting for? Put something decent on!”
“Sure thing, babe. So long as we’re clear; I’m grabbing your ass tonight.”
We make it to the VIP lounge in Azure Sol to discover it’s not the party like Strauss thought. We’ve been asked to attend by Boone because he wants to fill the lounge with people other than his main crew and his new business partner, Carlito Estrada.
Strauss’s boss, Benz, greets us.
“Good, you’re here,” he says. “Jade, you need to start on drink orders.”
She glances at me before nodding at Benz and heading off toward the bar area. Left in uncertain and awkward silence, Benz hacks a phlegmy cough and digs a handkerchief out of his pocket to spit into.
“Boone probably wouldn’t mind you joining him,” he says. “You and him made some kind of deal, ain’t you? Something about the winnings.”
I give a careless shrug, glancing around the dimly lit, blue-tinted lounge. “That stays between me and Boone. I’m sure you get it. You probably have a few deals cut with him… and others too, right?”
The gleam goes out on Benz’s face. He hacks again to cover up for the fact that he got shot down trying to poke for info and then mumbles something about checking on his girls.
I watch him walk away, reminded that I’m in a den of wolves. It’s the kind of environment where one word could cost you your life. The second your loyalty’s questioned, the second you make a wrong move, you could be in big trouble.
Benz was fishing for intel. He took one look at me and figured he could pull a fast one. Though the question is, why would he bother?
I file away the thought for later and do what’s expected of me as a player in this tournament—I stroll over to the table where Boone’s situated with Jay Chmura and Carlito Estrada. The three men are smoking cigars, in the middle of a bottle of Don Miguel 1948.
Boone spots me first. Half his face hidden by his usual dark shades, he cracks a wide grin, cigar smoke wafting in the air between us. “If it ain’t Oswald Gallagher, the man who’s gonna bring me the gold! Grab a seat, you fucking rockstar.”
He’s never been happier to see me. The other two guys chuckle as I claim the only empty spot in the leather sectional.
“We were just talking about you,” Boone explains, gesturing to Carlito Estrada. “I was telling Carlito that you might be my ticket to victory this year.”
“It would be a nice recovery from the last two years,” Carlito replies with a polite smile. Compared to Boone and Chmura, he’s relatively normal. He has jet-black hair with thick streaks of gray and he’s dressed in business casual to Boone and Chmura’s worn denim and boots. “But I look forward to whatever players you’re sponsoring this year, Boone. Let’s hope this is the first of many tournaments to be held at my establishment.”
The men toast to Estrada’s declaration, though I notice Boone’s grin falters a little. His lips pull tighter to cover it up and he guzzles down more tequila.
It’s no wonder there might be some tension. If Boone believes there’s still some insider, then that’s got to have a domino effect on the rest of the tournament. That’s causing strain on his business relationship with men like Carlito Estrada.
The men both profit from these underground rings, but each would sell the other out fast if they believed it would save their own hides.
It’s true that there’s no fucking honor among thieves. Everybody’s just playing a role ’til their hand’s forced and they have to make the best decision to save themselves.
“Tomorrow night’s the real party?” I ask.
Boone nods as if to nonexistent music playing. “That’s right—the official kickoff to the tournament. Hope you don’t mind that I invited you and the girlfriend out tonight. Figured you’d want a chance to scope out the lounge. She’ll be working here often.”
He’s turned his direction across the room, where Strauss is serving another table. I recognize both men from past tournaments. One of them, named Sebu Agassi, won the whole thing last year. Both men slip her a twenty dollar tip that she sticks down her shirt.
Chmura whistles from my side. “That’s one sexy piece of ass.”
An instant heat rushes over me, making my body temperature rise. I listen to the chuckles bounce around the table and try to breathe through the sudden hot flame. If I’m not careful, it’ll consume me and raze down everything else in its path.
I’ve never thought of myself as a jealous guy. I’ve had girlfriends who were strippers and cam girls and never gave a shit if other guys found them attractive.
But there’s something different hearing it said about Strauss. Something I don’t like.
“Now, cool it, Jay,” Boone cackles. “Look at Oz’s face. The poor guy’s in love!”
“And you’re one lucky man. I’d like to tap that just once. You know she was flirting with me at Déjà Vu?”
“You dumb ass, that was for a tip!”
Chmura’s pudgy face goes red. “Maybe so. But she looked so damn good strutting away in that tiny skirt. It barely covers her ass.”
“Keep going and you’ll make Oz pop a blood vessel. Why don’t you call your girl over?” Boone asks, nudging my arm. “We need some more drinks to go around.”
“Right… yeah… okay…” I half turn in my seat and lift my hand in the air to wave her down. “Babe… baby!”
It takes a third call for Strauss to finally catch on that it’s me calling for her. She glances uncertainly over at our table, putting on a smile as an afterthought before she finishes up the patrons she’s waiting on and starts over.
Her walk is sexy as hell.
Nah, it’s not a walk. It’s a fucking strut .
The kind of sexy strut you see the models do on runways as they show off tiny little bikinis or racy lingerie.
Zoe Strauss knows how to do it—she knows how to turn on her sex appeal like a damn switch. Her hips sway naturally with every step, one long, shapely leg after another. The hem of her pleated skirt flutters against her upper thighs, drawing attention to how smooth and radiant her dark skin is.
All while she confidently maintains eye contact the entire time.
Almond-shaped eyes that feel like they’re set on you and only you in a roomful of other men.
More heat creeps up the back of my neck and I find my throat tight when I go to swallow.
“Hey, babe,” she greets, bending forward to kiss my cheek. For a millisecond, I’m caught up in the light, sweet scent of her perfume as it lingers behind. “Would you gentlemen like more drinks?”
“We thought you’d never ask, sweetie,” Boone answers. “Why don’t you skip on over to the bar and grab us another Don Miguel 1948? Let us enjoy the view as you go.”
Chmura and Estrada chuckle at the crude joke.
Strauss looks back to me briefly, then gives a nod and promises to return.
My right hand’s curled into a loose fist. The molten heat that’s scalded over me has only intensified, creeping onto my face. Into my expression.
Boone spots my scowl and grins. “C’mon, you can’t be pissed at us for looking . We look at all the girls at these places. Matter of fact, take a glance at Venus. That girl’s tits are the size of melons! I might take her back to my room later and feel ’em myself.”
They all roar with more laughter as I crack my neck and close my eyes.
This is intentional. It’s how Boone gets under people’s skin. He’s picked up on what he thinks is the relationship between Strauss and me and he’s using it to needle me. His way to dominate and maintain control.
He’s got another thing coming if he thinks it’ll ever work.
I’ve got no problem blowing up his plans if it means sticking it to him.
Nobody owns me. Nobody tells me what to do.
“Anyway,” Boone says once the laughs die off. “What we really need to talk about is the final plans for this tournament. Everybody at this table is a major contributor. We need to all be on the same page.”
“I agree,” Estrada says. “The casino will make for an excellent cover. It will make it easy for the money to disappear.”
“All the players have arrived,” pipes up Chmura.
Boone blows more smoke from his cigar. “Damn skippy they have—the hotel’s crowded as fuck!”
“I presume the cuts will remain the same,” Estrada says, steering us back to business. He seems to have politely laughed at enough jokes and inhaled enough cigar smoke that he’s on the verge of leaving.
“That’s right, Carlito. You provided the venue and the cover. That’s thirty off the top. Chmura’s my recruiter, he’s got his twenty. I get forty. And Oz… you get your ten if you make good and win.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then that complicates matters,” Boone says. “For you and for me. We’ve been over this, Oz. We don’t want to do that, do we?”
“Benz get a cut too?”
The grin drops off Boone’s face. “Why would Benz get a cut?”
“He seemed concerned about what we’re discussing. He mentioned the winnings.”
Boone pops his cigar back into his mouth and makes a hum noise with his throat. He says nothing else about the matter, but he’s staring over at the bar area from behind his dark sunglasses, right at Benz.
Strauss returns a moment later with the new bottle of Don Miguel. She serves us to more leers from around the table.
I don’t know what makes me do it—probably the same thing that made me claim Strauss in the first place—but I reach out and curl my arm around her hips. I pull her closer to me as if about to drag her down into my lap.
She’s so stiff, so wooden in her reactions that you’d think we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend.
Which would be the truth.
But we’re supposed to be pretending.
She catches on half a second too late, gliding her fingers over my mohawk and smiling at the others.
“Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
Boone merely puffs on his cigar ’til she’s gone. His prior good mood seems to have all but faded as he reaches for his refilled glass of tequila.
“You two still got problems?” he asks.
I bite down on my jaw, the rage building from the inside, ready to blow. “We’re working through things. Like every couple.”
“Seems like times are tough. She froze up when you touched her. She not putting out? Then it sounds like she’s served her use. Might be time to give her the ax.”
“How about you stop speaking on our relationship?”
Chmura’s background chortling grinds to a sudden halt. Estrada, who’s moved onto checking his watch, glances up at my question.
Boone’s grin remains frozen on his face as he peers across the table at me. I hold the eye contact and toss back my glass of tequila before rising up out of my seat.
“Let’s get one thing straight. If I’m participating in this tournament, then you’re gonna respect me. And you’re damn sure gonna respect my girl.”
I leave him staring after me as I stride over to Strauss, grab her by the wrist, and lead her out the door of the Azure Sol Lounge.