Page 5

“Nope.” I grabbed my purse, shoving my phone inside before looking back at her. “And I’m about to find out why.”

Before ordering the Uber, I tried Montae one last time.

Straight to voicemail.

I stared at his name on my screen.

“You know what? Fuck you too.”

“What he do?” Tasha asked, raising her eyebrows at my sudden outburst.

“His ass was supposed to pick me up.” I held up my phone, showing her the unanswered calls before dropping my arm in frustration.

“Ooh.” She sucked her teeth, shaking her head like that explained everything.

“Exactly.”

Normally, I might’ve laughed, but there wasn’t shit funny anymore. In less than ten minutes, I had gone from being irritated because my boyfriend was late to finding out the roof over my head wasn’t nearly as secure as I thought it was.

I opened the Uber app.

Twenty-six dollars.

I damn near threw my phone.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Fifty dollars in tips.

Twenty-six just to get my ass home.

That left twenty-four.

Twenty-four fucking dollars after working all night.

I stared at the price like maybe if I waited long enough it would feel sorry for me and drop. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. Nothing in my life ever seemed to get cheaper just because I couldn’t afford it.

For a second, I seriously considered sleeping at the bar.

Instead, I pressed confirm.

Because apparently tonight was another episode of Jru Figures This Shit Out.

And I was getting real tired of this fucking show.

Chapter 2

At forty-one years old, I'd learned there were very few things in life worth interrupting good head for.

Malachi wasn't one of them.

Yet there his ass stood.

The door to my office swung open without warning, bringing a rush of noise from the unfinished club below. I didn't jump, scramble, or bother pretending the woman beneath my desk wasn't there sucking the skin off my dick. I simply lifted my eyes toward the doorway, already irritated before Malachi's six-foot-something frame completely filled it.

He stopped with one hand still wrapped around the door handle, his gaze dropping from my face to the top of the woman's head between my legs. The slow grin spreading across his face told me everything I needed to know. I'd been looking at that same stupid expression for damn near twenty years, and not once had it meant anything good.

“Don't,” I warned, my voice flat as I leaned farther back in my chair.