Chapter 11 #2
“I like the way you blame the entire male population.” Marisol laughs around her words.
“Just speaking from experience.” My father left my mother with two small children, and Eduardo is a complete fuck-up, so it’s the only logical conclusion. Blame it on the entire male population. Much easier and very satisfying.
Francesca and Tanya head for the bar, and the three of us get a table. When a waitress appears, Marisol orders, “I’ll have a lemon drop martini.” She points to Maxie. “She’ll have a bourbon on the rocks.” Then to me. “And she’ll have the specialty margarita.”
The waitress jots it all down and disappears into the crowd.
“I can’t believe they serve such nice drinks at a strip club.” I look around the room, appraising my surroundings, easy now that I don’t have to get up on stage. “Actually, this is way nicer than most strip clubs.”
“When they bought the place, it was almost falling down. They did mega renovations, then, when I took over as bar manager, I suggested something other than shots and beer. Of course, they were against it until they noticed more women joining the men, and even some of the men like a good dirty martini. They liked the extra revenue, and they’ve even gotten behind the better brands of liquor.
” Marisol leans in and nods to the prospect bartending.
“I know margaritas are your favorite, but they probably won’t be as good as mine. ”
Maxie cranes her neck toward the bar. “I don’t know about that. They’ve got that prospect, Jared, behind the bar.”
I look in the same direction. “He’s cute.”
“Cute?” Maxie scoffs. “He’s got a body like Brad Pitt in Fight Club and the eyes of Jason Momoa, dark and dangerous. He’s way past cute.”
I have to agree with her. The guy is gorgeous in all the best ways.
“Do I need to tell Blood about your crush on the prospect?” Marisol jokes.
As if on cue, Blood and Smoke appear at the table. Blood places a large hand on Maxie’s back, then leans in for a kiss that should be outlawed in public. Marisol wraps her arms around Smoke’s waist and gazes up at him like he’s the only man in the room.
I admit to being happy for them, and a little bit jealous, but at the same time afraid of what they have going on. Not too confusing.
“You ladies look amazing.” Smoke smiles down at Marisol. “I’m assuming this is your usual Friday night with the girls, and men aren’t invited.”
“You guessed right, handsome.”
“All right, make us suffer, but you know the rules.”
“Anybody comes on to us, and all bets are off,” Marisol repeats the words like she’s said them a hundred times.
Blood pulls Maxie to him. “Same rules apply to you, babe.”
I’m amazed at the gentle way Blood touches Maxie. Totally out of character from the ogre he portrays in the gym.
Each man dives in for one more kiss, and then they retreat.
“You ladies are very lucky.”
“True.” Maxie’s gaze follows Blood, then it shifts, and she gets another look in her eyes.
“Ohhh, I never like when she gets that look in her eyes.” Marisol shakes her head. “It usually means I’ll have a headache in the morning with no recollection of getting up on stage and singing.”
“What’s this now?” I’m intrigued that put-together, always-in-control Marisol has a wild hair.
“Nothing.” Marisol dismisses her words with a flip of her hand.
“It wasn’t nothing.” Maxie laughs. “And just for the record, you have a bangin’ voice.”
The waitress places our drinks on the table, and Marisol and Maxie hold up their glasses. “Here’s to the newest addition to The Royal Harlots.”
I also lift my glass and quickly gulp down the lump forming in my throat. These girls are going to kill me with my out-of-control emotions.
My eyes drift to the back of the bar just as Chantel appears in booty shorts, thigh-high boots and a minuscule bikini top just barely covering her nipples.
The girls follow my gaze, and Maxie shakes her head. “Back to my original idea. I think it’s time for Martina to meet one of the Royal Bastards’ prospects.”
“Hmmmm, I think that sounds like a genius idea.” Marisol’s gaze flips back to the bar. “As a matter of fact, I doubt he’s had a break yet tonight.”
Five minutes later, the very handsome prospect is sitting at our table, thanks to Marisol.
“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you before.” Jared leans his elbows on the table, and those Brad Pitt biceps flex.
“She’s new,” Marisol chimes in. “And very dedicated. Spends most of her time in the gym working out.”
“You’re fighting for the Royal Harlots?”
“And she’s got amazing moves,” Maxie adds. “Her first fight is next Saturday, and she’s going to be a winner. You should come.”
I shoot them both a look. I’m beginning to feel like the prize on the auction block. Next thing you know, Maxie will have me flexing and arm wrestling the poor guy.
“Absolutely.” He turns those Jason Momoa eyes on me, and something definitely quivers in my gut.
“How long have you been—”
“Marisol!” Diesel barks over the music as he storms toward our table.
“Yes?” She smiles up at him sweetly. Too sweetly.
“What the fuck is the prospect doing on the other side of the bar?”
“Taking a break.”
“Prospects don’t get breaks.” Diesel stops short of the table, glaring down at Marisol. “And who the fuck told him he could take a break?”
“Me.” Marisol’s smile widens as Diesel’s glare sharpens.
Her simple answer stumps him for a heartbeat. “He’s property of the Royal Bastards.”
“And I’m the beverage and bar manager of The Tropics, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“When Smoke gave me that job, he basically said they work for me, and I quote, ‘You’re in charge of handling all the employee bullshit: hiring, firing and doin’ the schedule.’ Correct?”
“Yeah.”
“He also said that includes their days off, hours worked and their breaks, and that I wasn’t to bother him with any of it. Right?”
“Right.”
“So, do you want me to bother Smoke with this, or should I let you?”
“Ahhh, fuck, do what you want.” Diesel focuses his dark eyes on me, then glares at the prospect and storms away.
My heart is beating double-time, but Maxie and Marisol have very satisfied smiles on their faces, although the prospect looks scared shitless.
“I better get back behind the bar.” He pushes away from the table and rests those beautiful eyes on me. “Maybe we could get together later.”
“That would be great,” Maxie answers for me, and I give her the eye.
The minute he’s out of earshot, Maxie turns to me. “Don’t go giving me the fisheye. You were enjoying him before Mr. Bossy-Ass Biker came over.” Maxie points at Marisol. “But, girl, you laid him out flat.”
“Did you forget I come from a long line of bossy-ass men?” Marisol takes a sip of her lemon drop. “It’s a learned behavior.”