I mean, really?
Whatever. It kept Lash in the lap of luxury and Lash kept me in the lap of luxury so who was I to complain?
“Ivey, beautiful, got a sign from Patrick,” Brutus said in my ear, hand on the flesh at the small of my back exposed by the low dip of my dress. “May be trouble across the floor. Gonna give him backup. Be right back.”
I looked from the notes I was making on the schedule on the bar, a martini glass filled with straight up cranberry juice next to it, twisted my neck and smiled over my shoulder at him, giving a nod.
His hand pressed lightly into my back and then he moved through the tables across the floor.
My head bent and I went back to my schedule.
I liked it back here. The lighting was dim and it seemed far from the crowd. It was the farthest place in the room from the stage so no one wanted back here. With Brutus at his post, the darkness, the distance from the stage which was why everyone paid to be there in the first place, I had privacy.
Not that night.
I would learn this ten seconds after Brutus left when a voice came in my ear.
“Do not stick your nose in with Cody.”
My neck twisted and I stared in shock at Buddy Sharp standing next to me wearing a hard expression, his eyes glittering mean even in the dim light.
Yes, Buddy Sharp.
What the f**k?
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“Small town. Word travels. Janie’s a stupid bitch. I know she’s called you. Do not stick your nose in that business with Grayson Cody.”
I felt something snake across my skin, it wasn’t good. In fact it was really, really bad.
He’d come to Vegas to warn me off personally. He lived in Colorado, not Italy but still, it wasn’t an hour’s drive.
And I did not think this boded well. I didn’t know what it boded but I had the distinct impression something was going on, something I didn’t know or get and it was something very, very bad.
Very, very bad for Gray.
I stared into his eyes.
Then I told him, “What I do or don’t do is none of your business.”
He got closer, threateningly closer and there was no mistaking it. His face was all I could see and the mean shown from his eyes, wetting the air all around with acid.
“You step in for Cody, you will wish you didn’t. Stay the f**k away from Cody and Mustang. You get me?”
Yes, something was happening and it was very, very bad.
For Gray.
I held his eyes, I held my space and I held my shit when I ordered, “Step back, now.”
He didn’t step back.
“Do not try me. Do not f**k with me. You do not exist for Cody and you do not exist in Mustang. You make even a single move to change that, you’ll regret it.”
“Step…” I hissed then leaned into him, “back.”
“Do not f**k with me,” he whispered and the way he did, the acid in the air saturating those four words, I felt true fear.
“Rue, we got a problem here?”
Thank God, Brutus.
I didn’t take my eyes from Buddy as I answered Brutus.
“Yes, this gentleman is no longer welcome in the club. Please escort him out, Freddie. Now.”
Freddie put his hands to the back of Buddy’s shirt, clenching in and Buddy tried to shake him off but no way in hell could Buddy shake off Freddie. Hell, the Incredible Hulk would have some issues shaking off Freddie.
My eyes moved from Buddy to Freddie, they locked with his and I said softly, “Eighty-six. Life. You see him, you take him down and I’ll deal with the police later.”
Brutus nodded, jerked Buddy around and I watched him frog march Buddy to the door.
Then I swallowed.
Then I breathed deep.
It was there, insidious, crawling through me, I felt it.
Worry.
And if I didn’t get a lock on it, I knew it would consume me.
I took a sip of cranberry juice and another deep breath.
Then I got a lock on it.
Then I went back to my schedule.
* * * * *
Seven twenty the next morning…
The phone rang. I opened my eyes and saw an ivory satin pillowcase and my body felt Lash’s curled into the back of it, his arm wrapped tight around me.
Yes, Lash and I slept together. We didn’t start this way but the minute I moved in was the minute his mother started showing up unannounced in the morning, using her key and surprising us. A life-long Vegas resident, an ex-showgirl (hence her naming her son “Lash”), she was beside herself with glee Lash hooked up with me, the Vegas showgirl to beat all Vegas showgirls.
She was not beside herself with glee catching us in separate bedrooms.
Questions were asked, nosy ones and after the fourth time it was clear she wasn’t buying Lash’s excuses that we’d had a rip-roarin’ the night before.
So Lash talked to me.
I got him. He loved his mother and she was unfortunately the kind of mother who would not accept who he was. Growing up, his Dad was a trucker and not around a lot, his mother a showgirl and therefore, mostly on her own, she took care of him. Being a showgirl, this wasn’t easy but she did it, she did it well, she liked doing it thus she didn’t complain. She loved her handsome boy.
She just didn’t want him to be g*y.
This was coupled with the fact that Lash’s father was a man’s man. I got the impression that Lash’s Dad would be more approachable on this subject but not by much. He was proud of his son, his son’s occupation, his son’s reputation and his son’s success. I got that Lash loved his Dad and was loath to take that away and I got why he didn’t.
Lash also worked the hotshot, playboy angle for business. Many of his VIPs would not be down with hanging with a g*y guy but instead preferred to think they were tight with someone who was just like them, ambitious, wealthy, aggressive and sexually predatory. Lash, of course, was all that except the last part, his prey was a different gender.
And anyway, I loved Lash. He took care of me in a variety of ways. If he needed this, it was my small way of returning the favor.
I didn’t mind sleeping with him. We whispered to each other before falling asleep, talking about our days, what the next one would bring, whatever. It was nice.
And he cuddled and I liked that, the affection, the closeness.
And he had satin sheets and they were the freaking bomb.
I felt Lash shift, his arm going from around me, I heard the beep of the phone and his deep voice sleepily saying, “’Lo.” There was a pause then, “Right here.” Then he rolled back and said sleepy-growly to me, “Gotta say, not a big fan of takin’ a call for my girl from a man at just after f**kin’ seven in the f**kin’ morning.”