Now, my thoughts are:if you can’t lift this, Samantha’s going to find a new droid daddy,oryou’ll never see your baby,oryou’ll be a terrible father.
I know from speaking with the other Hunks it’s not just me that thinks these things. I cannot overstate how fucked up the male brain can be.
Finishing my reps with a grunt, I rack the weights and take a moment to breathe. A million worries needle me into a dangerously anxious state. All of them focused on my growing family.
The itch to provide for my girl is unlike any I’ve ever felt before, and it’s whittling away at my sanity.
Looking over, I see Prince setting down his weights and grabbing his towel to mop up his sweat.
“Hey, mind if I take your spot tonight?” I ask, hoping he needs a break from the relentless schedule Carl has us on.
“Yeah, actually, I do.”
Dammit. If I’m going to be there for little droid, I need to work as many shifts as I can.
“Please? I’ll owe you one.”
“Why don’t you ask Slay?”
“Because he’ll want to work as much as possible with a wedding coming up.”
“Fair, but I wanna work too.”
“Come on, it’s just a night.” It’s not typical of me to beg for anything, but the relentless desperation coursing through my veins edges me toward panic.
“Look, you can have my spot tonight, but I’ll be working the crowd between sets.”
Relieved, I say, “Thanks, man! And like I said, I owe you.”
I head into the bar area of the venue we’re performing at and order a basket of fries, which is not what I typically eat before a performance. Stress eating in my occupation is never a good thing.
The bartender grabs a fry from my basket and winks as she licks the end.
Her dark eyes all but beg me to wreck her body, ruining her for every man that comes after. I have no doubt that her lips would feel like heaven wrapped around my cock as I fist her hair down my length.
But the desire just isn’t there, especially with the promise I made to Samantha.
I pull out my phone to text Jacek, frowning when I see that my text to Samantha has gone unanswered.
Toxic:If you need a little stress relief, the bartender is about to deep-throat a French fry.
Vanessa rounds a corner, heading straight toward me.
“Hey, Tox! You’re taking a divorce party in Prince’s place.”
I nod. “I’ll give them my best.”
Divorce parties are my favorite because the women are either wild and fun, or sad and desperate.
It’s the desperate ones I like because the feeling I get from putting smiles on their faces makes my whole fucking night.
Jacek rushes into the room like he’s late to a piss and scans the area until he finds the perky brunette bartender.
My work here is done.
As I slide off my stool, the front door opens, and a small-framed woman staggers into the bar.
“Excuse me, miss,” the bartender calls. “Did you need something?”
