“Oh yeah, because being in charge makes you think you’re mom,” she ground out. “Well you’re not, and I can’t wait till I’m eighteen, so I can get the fuck out of here and not have to listen to you anymore. You act like being a mom is so fucking hard. It’s not rocket science, you know.”
“You have no idea,” I mumbled, wanting so desperately to grab her by the neck and shake her until something clicked in that damn brain of hers. Mom and Dad’s death brought us so close together. We relied on each other, and she made me believe we would be okay. That as long as we had each other we would get through anything. But for the past year, she’d been an intolerable witch. The tiniest things making her act as if the world were coming to an end. She’d been disrespectful and rebellious. A complete and total bitch that loved to push my buttons and question my authority at every opportunity she had.
I repeated over and over in my head that it was a phase. She had been through so much in her short life and this, like everything else, would pass.
I grabbed my keys and turned back to her. “Either way, she’s checking in on you, so I suggest you stay put and get your damn homework done.”
“Or what?”
I hated when she countered me. Because I said so didn’t have the same effect as it did when she was younger. So, now, whenever she questioned my authority, I had to come back with something that would put a little fear into her.
She stood up and straightened to her full five-four. It was ridiculously hard to be intimidating to someone who towered over you, but I knew she was all bark and no bite.
“Well, there is that picture of you laying in your own vomit. I’m sure your friends would love it if I posted it to your profile.” I took the picture the first time she got drunk, or at least the first time I caught her. She was so wasted she fell asleep in her own puke in the bathroom. I didn’t take it so I could have blackmail ammunition. I took it to show her what she did to herself and how she should never do that again.
Her eyes widened and she jumped up, coming inches from my face. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” I said.
Her lip lifted into a smirk. “It’s funny how you try to act like Mom. You think you’re so smart. Think you can blackmail me. News flash: you’re a fucking high school dropout who takes her clothes off for a living. Mom and Dad are probably rolling over in their graves at the pathetic whore you turned out to be.”
Anger and embarrassment knotted together into a mess of heated emotion. My hand flung back and I slapped her as hard as I could. Pain vibrated through my hand and she gasped at the impact. Her own hands moved to the spot on her cheek that glowed red with my fingerprints. “You fucking bitch!”
My eyes widened at the realization of what I just did. Words sputtered into a million sounds as I tried to say something, but nothing other than incomprehensible noises came out.
Mackenzie grabbed her bag and a pair of pants, then took off into the night. And for the first time ever, I didn’t try to stop her.
***
I finished on stage and headed to the back, picking up my top as I went. Ariana, the wife to the owner of the Honey Pot, and the closest thing to a friend I had, walked over to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Christian is here, and has asked for you personally.” Her brown eyes focused on mine. “But, if you’re not up to it, I can send in another girl. He’s pretty fucked up, so I doubt he’d notice.”
Ariana was in her mid-fifties and beneath the Botox and makeup, you could almost see the gorgeous girl she once was. Now, no matter how much makeup she used, or how much cosmetic surgery she had, she just looked tired. I’d be tired too if my husband slept with anything with a mouth and tits.
Then again, I was only twenty-four and I was already exhausted. I lived on coffee just to get me through most days.
“It’s fine,” I assured her. I sat down in front of the lone mirror where all the girls touched up before heading on stage and fixed my lipstick. I smacked my lips together and smiled to make sure I didn’t have any on my teeth.
“You okay, sugar? You’re looking a little gloomy tonight.”
I pulled my top back on, making sure to push my tits up as high as I could. “I was fighting with Mackenzie before I left. Nothing new.”
“Oh sweetie, don’t take it to heart. She’s a teenager. It’s what they do.”
I shrugged. “I know, but I can’t help it.”
“That’s because you’re a good person and a damn good sister. One day, she’ll realize that.”
“Yeah, when hell freezes over.” I caught her gaze in the mirror, and we both laughed. “I guess I should head in there. Don’t want to keep Mr. Bates waiting.”
“I’m going to send Carmine with you. I know you say he’s harmless, but I don’t trust that sick bastard.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“Carmine!” Ariana called out.
A second later, Carmine walked in. His huge frame barely fit through the doorway, but I knew he was just a big teddy bear… unless he was provoked. Then, he was the deadliest beast around. You did not want to piss Carmine off. And I felt safe when he was around.
“You called,” he said, his voice deep and burly.
“Yes. Please escort Mila to the back room, and don’t leave her sight.”
He nodded and waited for me.
“Got to go make that money, honey,” I said to Ariana with a wink. I walked by Carmine and patted his massive chest. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” He didn’t say anything, just followed closely behind.
I pushed into the backroom, and Carmine slipped in, taking his post in the corner. Christian Bates lounged on the black leather couch. I could see he was already excited and swallowed down the disgust, remembering one lap dance with him would help me pay back Knox.
Christian Bates had become a regular, and I knew exactly what he wanted. I strutted toward him, running my hands up and down my body. I stepped in front of him, then spun around. I bent over, touching my toes, and letting him get a peek of my thong beneath the plaid skirt. I reached down and ran my hands up my leg.
The leather creaked as he shifted to get a better view. “Mmm, a white thong, my favorite.” He pushed a finger up into the material of my skirt and I backed away. And so, it started. He tried to touch and I playfully fended him off.
Carmine stepped from the wall, and I held a hand up to ward him off. I stood straight up, ran my hands over my tits and got to my knees. I crawled to Christian, and pushed his legs apart. “Now, you know this is a no touch zone. Put those hands where I can see them.”
He smiled, then lifted his hands and rested them behind his head. Tonight, felt different from usual. There was a look in his eyes that was more feral and hungrier than I’d ever seen before. I attributed it to whatever alcohol or drugs he had consumed and shook off the feeling of fear. I needed to keep the mood light and playful in order to earn my tip.
With the vision of money in my mind, I rested a hand on either side of his head, and let my body sink toward his. “Good boy.” I lifted a leg and slid down the length of him. He continued his intense visual assault, so I closed my eyes, and imagined there was someone else beneath me. It made it easier when I had to deal with clients I detested.