LeAnn was already seated at the long communal desk, studying her new textbook’s first chapter, when Tim arrived and dropped his bag beside hers. She’d already read and highlighted the material, trying to get ahead, and hoped this would be an easy class.
She rose to smile and hug him. “It’s about time you got here,” she teased.
“Sorry I’m late.” He tried to smile in return, but she saw pain lurking in his eyes.
“Last semester,” she murmured, settling down in her chair again. “It’s finally here.”
“Seems like it took forever, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Fortunately we just have two classes this time, and the ethics course should be easy.”
“One can hope.” Tim took his time pulling out his book, then glanced quickly in her direction. “I still think we should continue our study sessions, though, because it could be harder than we think.”
“Oh, definitely!” Their study sessions were the high point of her days, and she didn’t want them to end. “Have you started your CPA application yet?”
He shook his head. “Not until I pass this last class. It’s bad luck to start it before then.”
She eyed him in surprise. “Superstitious?”
He couldn’t help chuckling. “I’m Irish and German. We’re superstitious drunks.”
When he realized he was holding her curious gaze a little too long, he quickly turned back to his open book. Then he felt her hand on his arm, and tensed just a little.
“What’s up?” she softly urged.
“Nothing.”
A moron could have seen through his bullshit answer. “C’mon, Tim, spill it,” she said gently.
He sighed. “I don’t want to make things weird between us. It’s just that you always know how to cheer me up and make me laugh. I really need that right now.”
“Ooooh, that is weird,” she teased, then winked when he shot her a narrow-eyed glance. “Relax. I’m glad I can make you feel better. You do the same for me.”
She risked resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. Nothing physical had happened between them yet, but it seemed almost inevitable. She hoped it would be soon, despite her mother’s sage advice, but she knew Tim was struggling with his marital problems.
Crystal is a stupid bitch, she thought sourly. I’ll be happy to take Tim off her hands!
Their relationship had improved for a few weeks, but it hadn’t lasted, and now things were more strained than ever. She’d danced at Joe’s club for a few nights, then returned to Jingles’ place.
When Tim had confided to LeAnn that Sherrod had refused to let him visit Crystal, and even threatened him, she’d been incensed. She’d pleaded with him to speak with Bo. He’d refused, insisting that police involvement would be akin to nuclear warfare. Nothing would survive their involvement, and Crystal could get hurt in the process.
What he didn’t say, but LeAnn guessed, was that Crystal had started using drugs again. It was easy to surmise from his comment about her wild mood swings; one day she was happy and affectionate, while the next she was irritable and distant.
She probably never stopped. It would be just like her to lie, so she could continue her party-girl habits.
They really only saw each other on weekends. Tim tried hard to make that time count, but the increasing strain was wearing on him. It infuriated LeAnn to see pain in his eyes, especially since he was working so hard to save their relationship, but Crystal didn’t seem to care either way.
Fuckin’ bitch!
He managed a weak smile that wrung her heart. Impulsively she kissed his cheek. It might risk their friendship, but she didn’t care anymore…and when she saw his surprised pleasure, she decided the gamble had been worthwhile. “I’ll always be here for you,” she softly promised.
Impulse answered impulse as he hugged her tightly. “Thank you. I really need you right now,” he whispered back.
The other students, assuming that they were romantically involved, exchanged knowing smiles. When they noticed, they broke apart; Tim looked sheepish, but LeAnn flashed them all a mocking grin as she stood up and took a bow.
He was lucky he had such a loyal friend, he thought as good-natured laughter filled the room. Her rebellious streak was maddening, but somehow attractive, too.
Everyone settled down when the professor arrived. Tim and LeAnn exchanged a quick smile. Their last semester! They were both anxious to graduate, and discover what life had in store for them. Tim desperately hoped his life would include Crystal…but he wasn’t nearly so sure of that anymore. As painful as it was, he’d begun to contemplate alternatives.
I’ve never considered life without Crystal. It made him feel completely lost.
When they left the room half an hour later, LeAnn lightly shoulder-bumped him. “Up for a beer?”
“I could definitely use one,” he admitted.
“Awesome!”
Their normal watering hole was only a few blocks off-campus. They liked it because the beer was cheap, it was always open, and the Mexican restaurant next door made delicious tacos.
It was fairly empty when they arrived. They immediately headed in different directions…LeAnn to grab their normal table, Tim to select beers from a big ice-filled cooler across the room. He liked that she was casual enough to prefer beer straight from the bottle, and didn’t show any interest in whiskey or other illicit substances.
They twisted the caps off, then lifted their bottles in an exuberant toast. “To our last semester! May all the tests be easy, and the curve generous!” LeAnn exclaimed with a sly wink.
“Hear, hear!”
They drank deeply, then set the bottles down with dramatic flair. That was their normal routine, and it made them both laugh.
Should he tell LeAnn what was bothering him tonight? Tim wondered as he fiddled with the bottle’s damp label. It always made him feel better, but LeAnn was probably sick of hearing about Crystal…
“Hey,” she said suddenly, shattering the uncomfortable silence, “Jeff is definitely coming to our graduation after all.”
That pulled him out of his self-absorbed reverie. “Really? I thought you said his leave got cancelled.”
“I don’t understand that military crap,” she shrugged. “But somehow he was able to finagle it.”
“Awesome! It’ll be nice to see him again…though it’s been so long, I’m not sure if we’ll recognize each other.”
She shot him a mock-exasperated glance. “You’ve been best friends since the second grade. I think you’ll recognize each other.”
“Okay, okay.” He laughed. “It’s just that he’s accomplished something with his life, and I’m still living in a crappy trailer in a nowhere town.” Suddenly bitter, he took a sip of his beer. “I guess I’m just embarrassed, that’s all.”
“You’re about to get your CPA license,” she reminded him, and laid a comforting hand on his arm. “That’s an achievement. You’re smart, you’re a workaholic, and you have a bright future. Any accounting firm would be lucky to have you.”
His answering smile was grateful. “Thanks. I guess I need to hear that sometimes.”
He noticed when she leaned against him, but didn’t protest; it felt nice to spend time with someone who actually liked his company. Still…
“Okay, so we have one last accounting class, and an ethics course,” he said suddenly. “Based on what the professor said tonight, they’re both going to be easy. You still want to keep studying together?”
“Yes.” Her answering nod was quick and firm. “It’s worked for us so far, and I don’t want to tempt fate this close to the finish line.” Then she shyly added, “Besides, I like spending time with you.”
He felt the same, and it flustered him more than he liked. “You’re pretty amazing,” he said softly.
“That makes two of us, then.”
Restlessly he peeled the rest of the label free, drained his bottle, and then stuffed the torn paper inside it. “Ready for another one?” she asked.
“Sure, but two’s my limit.”
“Mine, too.”
Even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help watching LeAnn walk over to the cooler. She was supermodel-beautiful, and her body was curved in all the right places. She normally wore jeans…but when she did dress nicely for company parties, she always turned heads. Her naturally curly brown hair had grown longer, and it framed her face perfectly. He loved watching those cute dimples appear whenever she smiled.
Just my luck! He sighed and stared out the window, feeling even more depressed than before. And why not? Here he was, sitting with a gorgeous woman who was genuinely interested in him, but he was married to someone who apparently couldn’t care less about him. How the hell did this happen?
He couldn’t help noticing that she slid her chair a little closer before sitting back down and toasting him. The light vanilla scent of her perfume was intoxicating.
It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slip his arm around her, and hold her close. He resisted for a long moment, even though her expression made it clear that she wanted the same thing. Then she leaned against his shoulder. “You’ll get through this, Tim,” she softly promised. “I’m here for you.”
What the hell. “Thank you, LeAnn.”
Their bodies fit perfectly together. He felt the pang right down to his bones, but left his arm around her for several minutes.
“This feels nice.”
“Yes, it does. Very nice.”
They sipped their beers in comfortable silence, and simply enjoyed being together. LeAnn hoped they were finally moving forward, and that Crystal was slowly sinking into his past.
Tim felt totally confused, though, and oddly cast adrift. He’d been in love with Crystal since elementary school, and they’d been married for six years. Now their future seemed to be in jeopardy, despite his best efforts, and she just didn’t seem to care anymore. It broke his heart.
When they finally decided to head home, LeAnn held his hand as they walked to their cars. It felt nice…somehow right…
…and a betrayal to Crystal, he mused uneasily. But still he didn’t let go until they’d reached LeAnn’s car.
He waited until she’d driven away before sliding into his own compact car. He toyed with the idea of visiting Crystal at the club…but which club? Was she at Joe’s place like she’d promised, or had she returned to Jingles’ club tonight? He definitely wasn’t welcome there, and it would only cause more trouble.
And anyway, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see her dance anymore. He was worried he’d find her doing more than dancing…
So, sighing, he turned the other way, and drove home wallowing in self-pity.
Crystal finished on the main stage, and walked directly over to Sherrod, who was talking with one of the bouncers. She ignored several customers who waved to her. Normally she’d pick the best-dressed one and sit at his table, hoping for good tips. Not now, not tonight.
Tonight was different. Jingles wasn’t here. She hoped Sherrod would be able to help her out.
Come on, Sherrod…hurry up! she thought irritably.
She’d tried going straight last month, but she’d failed miserably. And Jingles hadn’t helped; he liked it when she used Meth, and offered it to her whenever they were together. Now she was using it five days a week, and the weekends were a struggle.
He’d been so annoyed by her feeble attempt that he’d given her an iron-clad edict: either she had to pay him for the drug, or fuck him for it. So far she hadn’t had to pay for it; he was always ‘up’ for a good lusty ride. But now she was out, he wasn’t here tonight, and her cravings were riding her hard.
Damn, he’s just a fucking bouncer, she thought, shifting restlessly as the two men continued talking. I’m the moneymaker at this club! Hurry the fuck up!
Finally she couldn’t wait any longer. “Sherrod, can I talk to you?”
He held up an impatient hand until his conversation was finished, then turned to her. “Shouldn’t you be walking the floor?”
“I will,” she promised. “But I need a minute of your time.” She offered him a hopeful smile as she scratched absently at her arm. “Just a minute.”
“Damn it,” he snapped, walking toward the DJ booth, “I’m fucking busy here. I don’t have time to worry about whatever issues you think are important.”
“Sherrod, please!” Urgently she grabbed his arm and stopped him. “I really need your help!”
He stopped cold, and narrowed his eyes. Quickly she jerked her hand back. “Sorry,” she mumbled, and stepped back.
He looked carefully at her, and instantly recognized the signs. She was shifting from one foot to the other, rubbing her arms, and her expression spoke of need, hunger, and considerable fear.
Little Crystal is struggling hard with her cravings, he thought maliciously. Let’s see how badly she needs Meth.
Coolly he headed for Jingles’ office, knowing she’d follow him. The moment they were inside, he turned and lifted a warning hand. “First, don’t you ever fucking touch me again,” he snapped.
“I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “Really I am.”
He continued, as though he hadn’t heard her, “Second, you’re the fucking entertainment. You shake your ass for the customers, and collect their money. That’s it. You don’t interrupt me when I’m busy running this club.”
She dropped her head, and simply nodded.
“Finally, I have at least two customers in the VIP room that want to see you. One of them is a really good customer who spends a lot of money here…and where the fuck are you? Following me around like a lost puppy.”
“I’m really sorry, Sherrod!” she insisted. “I am!”
“Great. You’re sorry.” Sarcasm filled his deep voice. “What the fuck do you want?”
She swallowed hard. “I need something from Jingles’ safe,” she admitted. She didn’t want to come right out and say it, and hoped he’d know what she was talking about.
“Meth,” he said coldly. “Just fucking say it, Crystal. You need Meth.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Yes, I need some Meth, just to get me through my shift. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She lied without a qualm, and shot him another hopeful look. “Please.”
She slowly smiled. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “I can help you, but I need something in return.”
“Anything!” she exclaimed. “You name it.”
“Wow, thank you.” She didn’t hear the mockery in his voice. “I need you to sit with a VIP customer.”
“No problem.”
“Good. He’s a regular customer, and important…so the normal club rules don’t apply to him,” Sherrod said coolly.
She blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Damn, you’re stupid, aren’t you?” he snorted contemptuously. “Let me spell it out for you.” His voice began to rise. “If the guy wants a blowjob, give it to him. If he wants you to parade around the club naked, then have you pull a train for him, you fucking do it! Now do you understand?”
She gaped at him in shocked surprise. Jingles would never allow her to fuck any of the customers, or the other dancers. Hadn’t he already told her he wanted to get serious with her? Besides, she wasn’t a fucking prostitute!
Anger and courage flared, and briefly overrode her Meth cravings. “No fucking way!” she snapped. “I’m not a whore or a prostitute! Besides, you know Jingles wouldn’t agree, and he might kick your ass for even suggesting that I fuck a customer!”
His smile grew malicious. Crisply he pulled out his phone and hit a number. “Boss? It’s Sherrod. Yeah, he’s here, and he’s getting impatient.” His eyes shot to her irate face, then he continued, “Yeah, I already talked to her, but she isn’t getting with the program.” He listened for a few more seconds, then nodded and hung up.
“Okay,” he said, and slid the phone back into his pocket. “Jingles agreed with you. I’m sorry I asked you to do anything more than give the guy a lap dance.”
Triumphantly she smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Sherrod. I’ll go up and sit with him until Jingles arrives.”
“You’re in for a long wait; Jingles isn’t coming in tonight,” he retorted. His smile widened as he turned toward the door and started to open it. “I guess we’re done here.”
“Wait, what?” Her eyes widened in horrified dismay. “Where are you going?”
He flashed her a deliberately confused look. “I’m leaving. I have a club to run. You can sit with the VIP client or not; I really don’t care. But either way, I have a club to manage.”
“But what about…” Helplessly she gestured toward Jingles’ safe.
“Meth?” He laughed, and shook his head. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t dare suggest that you take an illegal substance! Why, that would be against club rules! Jingles wouldn’t agree…and he might kick my ass for even suggesting that you use Meth.”
This time frustration mingled with her anger, and the fact that he’d turned her own words against her only made it worse. Fuck this, she thought, glaring impotently at him. “You’re an asshole,” she spat. “I can get Meth anywhere!”
“Good luck,” he sneered. “The Blades ain’t sellin’ you any, and the quality of street Meth is complete shit. It’s more likely to kill you than get you high.”
She stared at him in baffled dismay. “What do you mean?”
He only laughed, and walked away. She watched him gesture to one of the bouncers, then head toward the DJ booth. The office door closed behind her, and automatically locked.
She suppressed the urge to call him back. Her anger was fading, and the Meth cravings were returning with a vengeance. Frowning, she headed toward the dancers’ locker room, and ignored the customers who tried to attract her attention. Sherrod was talking with some of the other dancers. She shot him one last glare, then closed the door and headed for her locker.
Fuck this shit! I’d rather deal with Meth cravings than fuck a stranger in the VIP room. I’m not a whore or a prostitute…and Jingles wouldn’t want me anymore if I became one.
Cursing silently, she began changing into her street clothes. The other women glanced over at her, then traded contemptuous glances. They hated her because she consistently scored the highest-tipping customers, and Jingles favored her, so she didn’t have to work nearly as hard. If she was leaving early, they’d have a chance to make more money.
The DJ announced a shot special and reduced prices on lap dances. They groaned loudly, and colorful curses filled the room.
Everyone hated specials, because it cut directly into their earnings…and like it or not, they were all required to participate, which just made it worse.
One by one, they grudgingly filed out, leaving only Crystal and one other dancer in the room.
Fuck the special, Crystal fumed, and fuck Sherrod. I’m fucking leaving!
She couldn’t stay after the way he’d treated her, but she honestly couldn’t understand why he’d treated her so coldly. He’d always been friendly, flirting with her and letting her bend the club rules. He’d never been shy about letting her know he desired her, either. Why had that changed tonight?
Fuckin’ asshole. I’ll talk to Jingles, and he’ll straighten him out. Jingles wouldn’t want me fucking customers. Hell, he doesn’t even want me fucking my own husband!
Another craving washed over her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for it to pass. Normally they subsided after a few minutes, but lately they’d grown stronger, and they were closer together. It was getting easier to just give in to them…when she had the Meth available.
Finally she felt a little better and stood, slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder.
The other dancer spared her a mocking glance. “What’s wrong, white bread? Not feelin’ so good?”
Dulce was absolutely gorgeous, and a total bitch. She had beautiful long, naturally-wavy brown hair, and curves that never quit. Her skin was so light that most customers thought she was a white girl. Apart from Crystal, she was the club’s most popular dancer.
She’d always been rude and standoffish before, so Crystal didn’t know her well. She didn’t even know her real name; ‘Dulce’ was a stage name that meant ‘candy’ in Spanish.
She rolled her eyes, and kept walking. “Whatever.”
“Trouble in paradise?” Dulce swiveled her chair around as Crystal stalked toward the door.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Crystal said flatly, “and it’s really none of your business.”
The brunette’s smile twisted into a sardonic grin. “Sherrod asked you to fuck a customer, didn’t he?”
Crystal jolted to a stop. “How the fuck did you know? Did he tell you? That fuckin’ asshole!”
She laughed, and gestured to the adjoining chair. Crystal hesitated, then reluctantly dropped into it.
“It’s time you grew the fuck up,” Dulce said lightly, and took a leisurely sip of her drink.
Crystal rolled her eyes, and started to rise again, but the other girl laid a hand on her arm. “Just wait a second, white bread, and listen to what I’m saying to you.”
“I will if you stop calling me ‘white bread.’ You don’t know me, Dulce,” Crystal retorted, “so stop acting like you do.”
A flicker of respect flashed in the other girl’s eyes, and she slowly smiled. “You’re right. I don’t know you. But I can make a few guesses. Wanna hear them?”
“Not really,” Crystal muttered, “but I imagine you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“You’ve had it easy in this business,” Dulce said bluntly. “You’ve had someone looking out for you ever since you started stripping. Am I right? Yeah, that’s the 411 on you,” she confided when Crystal silently nodded. “The bikers got you into the biz, and protected you over at the other club. You moved over here because you’re hot for Jingles, and I don’t blame you.” She slyly winked. “He’s a sexy, good-looking guy, and lots of girls here want to get him naked.”
Instant jealousy kindled in Crystal’s eyes. “Have you been with him?”
“Before you got here,” Dulce admitted with a chuckle. “Hell, yes. He isn’t exclusive to anyone, honey…or he wasn’t, until you came here. I don’t understand it, but he seems to be off the market. He obviously cares about you; I’ve never seen him so focused on any dancer before.” She glared playfully at Crystal, then passed over a tissue when her eyes filled with tears.
Crystal wanted to believe what she had with Jingles was special, but she wasn’t ready to trust the Latin dancer. Why should she? Raven had been nice to her once, too, then had turned on her.
“Anyway, my point is, you’ve never had to make hard choices as a stripper,” Dulce continued. “You’ve never had to choose between giving a guy a blowjob for an extra $100, or missing your rent payment and getting tossed into the street. You’ve never had to decide whether to fuck a guy in the VIP area for $500 so you can pay for your kid’s school supplies, or medicine, or Christmas presents. Dancers have to deal with all kinds of hard and dirty choices every day. You’ve been insulated from all that.”
She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She’d been dancing long enough to hear the stories, but Dulce was right—she’d never had to face those choices herself. She was married to a man who doted on her, and she was protected by the Blades or Jingles, depending on which club she chose. She only had to worry about how much money she was making, and Tim let her keep all of it. Most dancers didn’t have those advantages?”
“So what’s your point?” she finally demanded. “It’s a cold hard world? You want me to feel bad or something? You don’t even like me, so why are you here?”
“I’m here because you make me money,” the brunette snapped. “That’s the only fucking reason I stopped you—because you’re right, I don’t like you.”
She subsided and stared down at her feet, then lifted her gaze again. Crystal was stunned to see tears brimming in her eyes.
“I was born in Mexico to parents so poor, we ate barely once a day,” she said softly. “When I got older, I had a chance to cross the border. I worked my ass off to raise money for that degenerate thief. But he wasn’t interested in my money; the lowlife sonofabitch was only interested in fucking me. And he did, as soon as we crossed the border.” A bitter laugh escaped her, and she swiped at her eyes. “I actually got fucked twice…the first time was when he took all my money, and the second time was when he took my virginity.”
“Oh my God,” Crystal whispered, appalled. Sympathetic tears welled up in her own eyes.
“Fuck you, white bread,” Dulce quickly said. “I don’t need or want your pity.”
“I didn’t mea…”
“Save it! When I finally reached San Antonio, I got away from that motherfucker and went out on my own. I turned a few tricks,” she admitted. “Then I found this place. Sherrod wasn’t the manager then. I convinced the old manager to give me a shot, and a small loan.
“I convinced him,” she added, “by agreeing to fuck him whenever he wanted until I paid back the loan.” She flashed Crystal a satisfied grin. “He was so pissed when I paid it back in just a week! I told him if he ever came near me again, I’d kill him…and he knew I meant it.
“I’ve been the most popular dancer here since then, and I’ve made a lot of money.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Until you showed up, that is.”
“Sorry…”
“It’s not your fault. Well, it is, actually,” Dulce amended, “but you can’t do anything about it. I was really pissed at first…but then something really weird happened. I started making more money!”
Crystal blinked. “What?”
“I know, right?” Dulce laughed. “But think it through. You’re bringing in more customers, but you don’t have time to sit with them all. Most of them are ready to spend money…and let’s be honest, you don’t sit with anyone unless they’re prepared to shell out some serious money. You’ve learned that much, at least.”
She nodded. “Damned straight.”
“Well, who do you think gets the customers that don’t have a chance to sit with you?” Dulce smirked.
“You.”
“Damned straight!” She mimicked Crystal’s voice, then laughed. “Not only that, but I can hit my regulars up for more money, because I tell them I have a better offer at another table. It’s been fucking great having you dance here, even if I don’t like you at all.” The irony of that made her grin. “That’s why I don’t want you to leave tonight, and why I told you all this stuff about me. I’ll kick your ass if you repeat it to anyone, by the way.”
They both fell silent, lost in their own thoughts. When another craving hit Crystal, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It was stronger this time, and lasted longer. She hadn’t had a hit of Meth for twenty-four hours, and her body was reminding her that she was past-due for another dose.
You can do it. Be strong! If you go back to Sherrod now, you’ll be a fucking whore…and Jingles will drop you in a second.
“Thank you for telling me all this, Dulce,” she murmured when she felt steady enough to talk again. “You’re right, I haven’t had to make a lot of hard choices. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to start giving blowjobs in the VIP room, or fucking customers for money or drugs. I’m not a hooker or a whore.”
Dulce stared at her, then burst into laughter. “Oh, that’s priceless!”
Crystal resisted the fierce urge to throw something at her, and stiffly retorted, “It’s also true.”
“No, it’s not! Are you going to tell me you’ve never had sex when you weren’t in the mood? Never had sex with a boyfriend even after you’d already decided to break up with him? Never given your husband or boyfriend a pity fuck when they were down or upset?” She eyed Crystal with open amusement. “Never had a one-night stand with a cute guy who bought you drinks all night? Never had too many drinks, then had sex just so he’d leave, or go to sleep, or because he held your hair back when you puked? Never fucked Mr. Right Now just because you were flat-out horny, and any cock would do?
“Honestly, you never fucked a football player after he had a good or bad game?” She laughed again. “You’ve never dropped your panties and spread your legs just to make another guy jealous? We’re women!” she exclaimed. “Sex is our weapon! It’s our currency, especially in this business, where we sell sex—or the possibility of it—for $20 a song.
“You can tell yourself you’re not a hooker, and maybe you believe that. But it’s bullshit. Sure, you’re not turning tricks on the street, and you’re not an escort or advertising on the internet. But can you really say you don’t perform sexual acts for money?”
Angry blue sparks flared in Crystal’s eyes. “You can spin this any way you want, but I’m still not going to spread my legs for money! I’m not going to swallow a cock for $100 or a hit of Meth. It may be naïve, and yeah, I might be deluding myself. But it’s a line I won’t cross.
“Sure, I’ve gone farther than I should have with a few customers…but it was because I was horny or high, or he was really cute. Not because they were fucking paying me! It was my choice, and the only thing I got out of it was an orgasm!”
“Not even if it helps your boyfriend?” Dulce quietly countered. “Jingles don’t care if you fuck someone else…he cares about his business. Hell, he’d probably thank you for fucking someone if it helped the club.”
“Dulce…”
“Jingles is seriously into you,” the brunette interrupted her. “And that won’t change just because you made a VIP customer extra-happy. It’s just sex.”
It wasn’t the same thing at all, and it would matter…it would! But all Crystal said, when she finally spoke again, was, “I’ll think about it.”
“You just need to relax,” Dulce said earnestly. “Why don’t you and I do a little Meth? I know you need some; I can see the cravings hitting you. I’ll talk to Sherrod. He can get us both some, and we’ll have our own little party.”
Meth! She needed it badly.
She stared at Dulce, seriously considering her offer; then her better judgment won out. Dulce wasn’t a friend…she was barely even an acquaintance…and she had her own agenda, just like Raven had.
“No. I appreciate it, Dulce…but no.”
They faced each other for a moment in silence. Then Dulce shrugged a little, and offered Crystal a warm smile. When they both stood up, she was shocked when Dulce leaned forward to hug her.
“Thanks for the conversation,” she said, slinging her duffle bag over one shoulder.
“You’re welcome, white bread,” Dulce replied, but this time her response was light and filled with humor.
The valet brought her car around, and she drove home. The Meth cravings were getting stronger, but she wasn’t ready to sacrifice her dignity.
I’ll try again to give it up. I didn’t try hard enough last time.
God, I wish I’d never started Meth.