“Yeah, let’s go. Then can you take me to Gash’s office? I need to talk to him,” I said, grabbing my empty wallet and shoving it into my pocket.
Marco let out a little whoop. “Hell, yeah! You comin’ back to the club?”
“Just come on. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son,” Gash mused from behind his desk in his crappy office. I set my mouth and gave him a short nod.
Gash looked at Marco and narrowed his eyes. “You can wait in the hall. And shut the door when you leave,” he commanded.
Marco looked surprised. “But—”
“But nothin’. This is between X and me. I don’t want a fucking audience. Your ass buddy will be out in a minute.”
Marco didn’t argue. No one ever argued with Gash.
When Marco had left and shut the door, Gash pointed to one of the seats in front of his desk. “Sit,” he ordered.
I sat down in the chair. “I was glad you took my offer to scout again. You have the best eye. The last dickhead didn’t stick around for very long.” I was shocked by Gash’s praise. He wasn’t one to give it willingly.
“Yeah, well, I needed the cash.” No sense beating around the bush. I wanted to get to the point for my impromptu visit.
“So Marco tells me,” Gash said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands over his belly, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. He knew my weaknesses. He had made a living on exploiting people. He knew he could get me through my vices: cash, power, and drugs.
“I’m guessing that while the money you get from scouting helps some, it’s not nearly enough. Am I right?” he asked, his smirk irking me.
I cleared my throat, hardly able to believe I was groveling to this shit stain for help. I had sworn I’d never set foot in the club again. That my new life had no place for the world I used to live in.
But that was before I had been given an eviction notice. That was before I had been reminded of how impossible it would be for me to support the woman I loved in the way I wanted to.
I needed money. Desperately. I wanted to take care of the people I loved. How could I do that if I couldn’t even take care of myself?
“Do you have any jobs around the club where I could make some extra scratch? Bartending? Bouncer? I’m not picky.” I hated eating crow. I choked on it.
Gash’s smile widened.
“I’ve cut a lot of jobs lately. I’m not sure if Marco told you ornot.”
I fidgeted in my seat. “Yeah, he mentioned something like that.”
“I don’t have any extra jobs like that to hand out. Particularly to someone who has proven they’re not entirely trustworthy.” Damn, he was enjoying this.
And it reminded me of how much I hated him.
“But...” Gash trailed off as he opened a drawer in his desk.
He pulled out a Ziploc bag and dropped it in front of me.
I didn’t touch it, even though my fingers started to itch with the desire to grab it and run. I could see the pills gleaming white under the overhead light.
“I told Marco—” I began, barely able to get the words out.
“I know what you told Marco, and I respected that. I’m just telling you the only job I have left is the one you walked away from.”
My nostrils flared, and I started to salivate.
This was a really bad idea.
I’m right here, where you left me, Maxx. I’ve missed you.
