Page 22 of Property of Player

“Bullshit.”

“I get your point,” Pony says. “But I always liked Taylor. She was cool.”

My eyes hit his. “You had a little puppy-dog crush on her back then.”

“Well hell, I was only twelve, and she was hot.”

We sit quietly and drink our beer and pass the joint around again. It’s chilly, but there are a million stars out. I lean back and feel the buzz hit me. Then lift my beer in toast. “To Ma.”

“To Ma,” they both repeat.

We sit quietly for a while longer.

“So, what’s the plan?” Beck asks.

“Guess we’re moving furniture Saturday,” I reply.

They both groan.

“I’m goin’ to bed, boys. You’re welcome to the couch and recliner.” With that, I stand and trudge inside. I pass a letter on the counter—the one from my landlord informing me I have until the end of the month to move out or sign a new lease.

Slumping on my bed, I scroll on my phone, looking for listings. My subconscious mind has me zeroing in on Dewey Beach near the Rusty Pelican. There’s a two-bedroom condo with a view of the marina available. I screen shot it and make a plan to ride by it tomorrow.

If things don’t work out, it’s got a great location, and I could always use it for income property.

Way to be positive, my brain argues.

I close my eyes and toss my phone onto the nightstand.

I’ve got a plan; tomorrow I’ll put it in motion.

Chapter seven

Molly

I’m on stage at the Crystal Palace, working through my routine, but in my mind, I’m trying to transport myself anyplace but here. I want out so badly I can taste it.

Two of my regulars are in the house, so I know I’ll rake in the money on lap dances later.

The repetition in my life is grinding me down, but I push through. If I’m one thing, it’s determined.

Tonight is just another Friday night until my eyes catch a glint at the back of the room. The light flashes off the silver rings on the man’s hands. He’s in the shadows, but I know who he is immediately.

My stomach sinks. One thing I know for sure: if he’s here, it’s for me.

Although this man isn’t wearing his cut—he wouldn’t dare, not here—I know he’s with the Depraved Sinners. This isn’t their territory, but he’s emboldened, and I know why.

My song ends, and I exit the stage, my heart pounding.

I return to the floor to work the crowd and sell lap dances. The big money is in the private rooms, and either of my regulars could easily be talked into buying time with me, but I know I need to take care of Duck first.

Dread fills me.

He’s against the back wall, and as I approach, his eyes lock with mine. I can’t read him tonight. The dark depths of his soulless eyes are cold.

I slip onto his lap and make small talk like he’s any other customer.

“What brings you in tonight, handsome?”