“First night?” That made me pause. “She just started?”
“Tonight. Like three hours ago.” Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. “Which makes whatever game you’re playing extra shitty, Milo.”
I set the bottle down on the bar. “It’s not a game.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s—" I stopped. Tried to organize my thoughts through the bourbon fog. “I know her.”
“From where?”
I didn’t need to answer that question.
“Hot fucking shit, man.Really?”
I reached for the water bottle again. “Apparently.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“For what?Sheputs it out there!”
“And what? That gives you the right to treat her like shit?” she asked. “Wait, don’t tell me — rockstar privileges.”
I grinned. “You got it.”
“I swear to God I’m gonna smack you.Andget you banned from this place.”
“You won’t,” I said, because we both knew she wouldn’t. Dahlia and I went back too far for that. She’d been dancing here when I was still playing dive bars for fifty bucks and free beer. She’d bought me drinks when I couldn’t afford them, let me crash on her couch when I got evicted, listened to my shitty demos after I bribed her with cheap wine.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed.
“Okay, fine.” I held my hands up in surrender. “I was being a dick. But saying no to thirty-five grand? Come on, that’sinsane.”
“That’s called having self-respect, you asshole.” Dahlia leaned in closer, her voice dropping low enough that I had to strain to hear her over the bass. Then she pulled me in for a hug. “Come on. I know you ain’t like this.Weain’t like this, dude.”
I closed my eyes for a second, breathing in her familiar perfume — something floral and expensive that some rich fuck probably bought her. When I pulled back, the room spun just a little.
“Come on. Buy me a private dance — I wanna talk to you about the tour,” she said.
I let her lead me toward one of the private rooms in the back. The hallway was dimmer than the main floor, lit only by those red bulbs that made everyone look like they were already mid-sin. Dahlia pushed open the door to one of the smaller rooms — just a chair, a small stage, and walls thin enough that the bass still rattled through.
We talked. We laughed.
She never danced — it wasn’t that kinda arrangement.
And for a moment, I forgot I was supposed to be an asshole.
But Baby Doll still lingered at the back of my mind.
Always.
I was hiding in the kitchen. I am not proud of it, but there it was.
To say he had embarrassed me in front of everyone was an understatement. Yeah, his tips had kept me afloat for months, and thirty-five grand plus a year of rent would change my life overnight — but that wasnothow you proposition a girl. The whole club had heard him basically call me a whore for hire. So yeah, I was pissed.
But if I was being honest? The real reason I was hiding back here with a triple-decker bacon and avocado sandwich was because I was also stupidly, inconveniently turned on. And that pissed me off even more.
I took another massive bite and chewed aggressively. The bacon crunched loud enough that I almost missed Lolly’s next words.
