Rock Chick Reawakening (Rock Chick 0.5)(7)
Now Marcus was angry.
In fact, furious.
He did not show this outside the steely edge that was now in his voice.
“I would not harm a woman.”
“Brother, you got a stable of whores.”
“I do not,” he clipped. “I oversee the management of a network of men who run escort agencies and I do this to make sure these men run this network appropriately.”
“Like I said, you got a stable of whores. Or a network of ’em.”
“You know that story, Smithie,” Marcus said softly, the soft not gentle, just quiet.
And dangerous.
Smithie did know that story so he left that but didn’t leave it alone.
“You got other shit you—” he started.
“Not your business.”
“It is, you tie her up in it.”
“She’s not your business either.”
Again, Smithie’s eyes got big and he threw an arm toward the window. “She’s a Smithie’s girl and she’s not my business?”
Marcus had had enough.
“Do you want a problem with me?” he asked.
“Of course I don’t,” Smithie spat.
“Then cut a set, cut a song in each set, no private dances and increase her salary, Smithie.”
“Goddammit, Marcus,” Smithie bit out.
“Do it,” Marcus ordered then dropped his arms from his chest and moved toward the door.
He stopped and turned back when Smithie called his name.
“I won’t have no problem havin’ a problem with you if you make problems for her,” Smithie declared. “Do you get that?”
They talked, Daisy and Smithie.
Smithie knew.
Peace.
Marcus nodded.
Smithie jerked up his chin in agitated anger and turned his back on Marcus.
Marcus walked out of the office, down the stairs, and through the club, not sparing Daisy a glance.
At that moment, he had business to deal with. He needed his head in that.
When it was time for Daisy, he wanted his attention fully on her.
But it would be time for Daisy.
Soon.
Daisy
“Who’s that tall, dark drink of handsome water?” I asked Ashlynn, my eyes on the tall man with broad shoulders and fabulous suit who was sauntering out of the club in the manner of a man who owned it.
In the manner of a man who owned anything he wanted.
“Don’t go there,” Ashlynn answered.
I looked to Ashlynn.
“What, sugar?”
She shook her head. “He’s hot. Knew a girl who’s had him and I’ll repeat, he’s hot. Took her out four times. All to fancy restaurants where she had to buy fancy dresses and shoes. And he gave it to her good at the end of the night, and I mean real good, the way she described it. He also, like, opened the car door for her and everything.”
Opened the car door for her.
And everything.
Oh my.
“Ended it with her giving her a gold bracelet,” Ashlynn carried on, recapturing my attention. “Pure class.” Her look got intense as she stared into my eyes. “And he’s trouble.”
I glanced to the door that he’d obviously gone through because he’d disappeared, then back to Ashlynn.
“Trouble?”
Ashlynn didn’t answer that question.
She just shook her head again and declared, “He wouldn’t date a stripper anyway. Like I said. He’s class.”
I felt my mouth get tight.
I was not a big fan of judgment. I’d had that shit shoved down my throat from the time I could cipher. A mother like I’d had. A father like I’d had. The creeps, losers, and *s my momma had no problem parading through her daughter’s life, our home. The jobs Momma would get and lose and the reasons she’d lose them. The clothes I had to wear, bought at yard sales, garage sales, thrift shops. The crap people would say, not even worried I might hear. I didn’t matter and my feelings sure didn’t so they might not say it to my face, but they didn’t do anything to shield me from it either.
I got out of that and it didn’t get much better. Pretty much every bitch and dickhead felt they had a highly-tuned white-trash-o-meter and took one look at me, thinking it binged at the highest frequency.
Okay, so my momma wasn’t all that. My daddy really wasn’t all that.
But I’d gotten on a bus and left all that behind and never looked back.
Did that matter?
Hell no.
Yeah, so I’d found my own trouble in a variety of ways, mostly after Miss Annamae died, doing a stint at juvie that wasn’t all that fun and learning my lesson.
And yeah, so I’d hooked up with some boys who weren’t much to write home about, mostly because I liked boys, boys liked me, and a girl’s gotta have a first kiss (and second, and third, etc.) and they were the only ones who asked me out.
They might not have been much, they might have been trouble, they might have treated me like crap, but at least they all (every one) were f-i-n-e, fine. I could pull in a looker like no other even before one of them bought me my boob job. It just sucked they were all also varying shades of *.
But I got my first job when I was sixteen and I was never late, never sick. I worked hard and showed respect that wasn’t showed me, eating shit when I had to, pulling the knife out of my back and getting on with it whenever someone shoved one in there. I got my high school diploma. I might not have graduated with honors but I was on the AB honor roll every term.