27. Skye
“How was Vegas?”
Word spread pretty quickly throughout Purgatory about our night at the Blue Rose. Mark and Zach were less than thrilled once they found out they were going to be watching male dancers.
There’s a twinkle in Tony’s eye as he waits for a play-by-play. Luckily, we’re not insanely busy, so I can give it to him.
“Incredible.” I toss an empty beer bottle in the trash. “Mark and Zach were pissed as hell once they realized Apple wasn’t singing.”
“Mark thought Apple was gonna sing?”
“Yep. The Blue Rose is Apple’s old stomping ground and where she was discovered, so he assumed that’s what we were there for.” I chuckle. “Apple left to go talk to Amelia, the events coordinator, and Mark thought she was getting ready to take the stage. A few minutes later, the lights dimmed, and Mark and Zach screamed louder than anyone else in the theater. Neither of them ever realized that they were the only men in the room. In their defense, we were at the table right in front of the stage, so they were blind to everyone behind us.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“The music started, and the lights came back on, and there was a guy, front and center, his body slick with oil and his package almost hanging out.” I laugh at the memory. “Mark screamed, and Zach threatened to wash his eyes with bleach. Mark thought that was hilarious until a group of cougars sitting next to us thought Zach and Mark were part of the act and tried to take off their pants while rubbing their tits all over them.”
Tony holds his stomach from laughing so hard. Unfortunately, our conversation is cut short as more customers flood in.
Thorn takes a seat across the bar and stares me down. “Bob?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, feigning innocence and batting my lashes.
Thorn wags his finger at me. “I’ll admit it. You got me and Spike good.”
I giggle. “You kinda asked for it.”
“I did. Can I get a beer?” he asks, and I quickly slide the beer across the counter. “You’re good for each other, you know.”
“I don’t know if I’m good enough for him or not.”
“You are, and don’t you ever fucking doubt it.”
I avert my gaze. “Thanks, Thorn.”
He thumps the bar and slips off the stool. I watch him walk to the VIP section and think about what he said. My thoughts are interrupted when Waylon slides in beside me.
“How’s everything going up here?”
“Good. We could use another few bottles of Jack though.”
“I’ll grab it,” Waylon volunteers.
Waylon and I seem to have an unspoken truce of some sort. He quit hovering, and I don’t think about stabbing him as much anymore. Of course, Waylon doesn’t know about my part of the truce. I do my job and keep my head low.
A few hours later, I feel Rogue’s presence before I see him walking through the door. Static fills the air, causing goosebumps to break out all over my skin. His lips curve when he sees me watching him, but a moment later, Waylon tries to intercept him, and his lips set in a hard line. Rogue’s steps become more purposeful as he makes his way over to me with Waylon following in his wake.
“I need you and Waylon in my office.” Rogue glances at Tony. “You good for a while by yourself?”
“Uh… yeah. We’re slowing down, but I can always pull Connie or Lana if we get busy again,” Tony answers.
“Shouldn’t take long.” Rogue crooks his finger at me and Waylon. “Come with me.”
Once we’re inside the office, Rogue sits behind the desk and gestures at the chairs.
“What’s up, boss?” Waylon asks to break the silence.
Rogue leans forward, resting his arms on the desk, and glares at Waylon. “That’s what I’d like to know. Where the fuck is my money?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Waylon hooks his thumb in my direction. “Last time I checked, Skye here was the one who had all that cash in her locker.”
“We know for a fact Skye didn’t take it.”
Even though Rogue’s told me he believes I’m not a thief, my heart still soars to hear him say it to Waylon.
“Then how am I supposed to know where it is?”
Rogue slams his fist down, causing me and Waylon both to jump. “I think you know exactly where my fucking money is.” Rogue slowly leans back in his chair. “See, something funny happened on Saturday.”
I raise my brow in question, but Waylon’s the one who speaks. “What happened Saturday?”
“A five-hundred-dollar deposit was made into her checking account.”
“And?”
“She wasn’t even in town, asshole.”
“There are other ways to deposit money, Rogue,” Waylon says as if Rogue’s an idiot.
“Skye couldn’t have done it because it was entered as a cash deposit. She banks at the local credit union which has no other branches outside of Boulder City.”
“I’m still not sure what you’re getting at.”
Rogue’s face turns almost purple with rage. “I think you’re the one stealing and setting her up to take the fall.”
I gasp in shock. When Rogue and I discussed this before, he didn’t think Waylon was responsible. Seems like he’s changed his mind.
“Waylon, what the hell did I ever do to you?” I ask hesitantly.
Waylon ignores me and focuses on Rogue. “I-I-I didn’t take shit,” Waylon stammers. “Why would I take it?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Rogue says, surprisingly calm when I know he’s anything but.
The more I get to know him, the more I’m able to recognize the signs of his outrage. Rogue’s eye twitches slightly, and the vein on the side of his head pulsates.
“Just because you’re fucking he?—”
Rogue moves so fast, there’s no time to react. One second, he’s on the other side of the desk, and the next, he has Waylon against the wall, holding him up by his throat.
“Don’t ever let me hear you talk about her like that again.” Rogue punctuates the statement by slamming Waylon’s head into the drywall.
“S-s-s-sorry,” Waylon wheezes.
Rogue releases him, and Waylon slides to the floor with a thud.
“Doesn’t matter if we’re together or not,” Rogue snarls. “Skye’s innocent, and the whole club knows it.”
“You have to believe me,” he pleads. “I swear, I didn’t take any money. I’m sorry I accused Skye when she’s innocent, but I honestly thought she did it. How else would the money get in her locker? It had a fucking combination lock on it.”
“That’s a good question,” I mutter, and both sets of eyes shoot in my direction.
Rogue’s chest heaves with exertion. “Excuse me?”
“We still don’t know how that money got in my locker,” I remind him.
“He fucking put it there!”
Waylon shakes his head. “I promise, I didn’t. I have no clue what’s going on around here, but if Skye was set up, then it’s not such a leap that I’m being set up, too.” Waylon climbs to his feet, his legs shaking. “Give me time to prove to you that I had nothing to do with it.”
“No,” Rogue states firmly.
“Please, Rogue,” Waylon begs. “I’ve been working here the same amount of time Skye has. This has never happened before, and it’s pretty convenient that it’s happening to both of your employees who started at almost the exact time.”
“Rogue,” I interject. “I think you should give Waylon the benefit of the doubt and give him a chance to prove his innocence. He makes a good point… it’s a pretty weird coincidence.”
“How so?”
“Both of us have been here over two years without any incident before this, and now everything only points at either me or Waylon.” I pause. “Remember Rogue, Waylon was the one that brought it to your attention in the first place.”
Rogue heaves a sigh. “You’re right… it doesn’t make sense,” he states, roughly running his hands through his hair.
“Exactly,” Waylon agrees. “Why would I tell you about missing funds if I was the one doing it? It’d be easier to rob the joint and run than going through all this trouble.”
“Something is off, but I will figure it the fuck out.” Rogue opens the door forcefully. “Get back to work, and keep in mind, I’ll be watching you.”
Rogue and I share a look as Waylon scampers away.
The question still remains… Who the fuck is stealing from Purgatory, and why try to pin it on me or Waylon?