See No Evil

Chapter 13

Stone

“You look like shit,” Janet laughs, eyeing me up and down after giving me her table’s order.

“Geez, thanks, bitch. Don’t hold back or anything,” I grumble sarcastically as I pour three shots of Jack for her.

She slants her eyes and leans closer to the bar counter, making sure tonight’s clientele get a good eyeful of her ass in that wide belt she insists on calling a skirt. It’s pathetic the lengths my colleague will go to get these rejects grabbing their balls and drooling at the corner of their mouths for an ass that can be bought with a few dollar bills or a line of coke.

I’ve seen Janet too many times on her knees in the storage room, working on her ‘extra income’. If she was trying to earn money to keep her lights on or her fridge stocked up, I’d think it as a sad situation. Still, since it’s just for her to snort up her nose or shoot down her vein, I couldn’t be more repulsed about how she comes by the extra cash.

The problem with Janet giving her hoochie away like it’s Christmas morning is that some of these losers think I’m just as skanky and easily bought. Though they quickly learn how that isn’t the case when they try to put their hands on me. I don’t fall to my knees unless I’m in the mood, and only in front of who I damn well please—the losers that come every night to Big Jim’s don’t make the cut.

“Don’t get pissy, honey. I’m just calling it as I see it,” Janet placates with her deep southern twang, as if that will take the sting away from her insult.

“Oh yeah? And what do you see?” I cross my arms over my chest, not really giving a rat’s ass about what she thinks one way or the other.

“A girl who isn’t going to get any tips looking like that,” she rebukes, her red acrylic nail drawing an invisible line up and down my short frame to make her point. “I thought you were a smart college girl. I guess you’re just as stupid as the rest of us,” she taunts, wiggling her brows and prancing off to the customers that ordered the whiskey.

Even though my resting bitch face is permanently stitched on, I know the skank is right—Big Jim’s isn’t classy. There’s no dress code for staff, but the scruffy-looking clientele will pay a little extra if they see some cleavage or leg. And tonight, I’m definitely not giving them their money’s worth with an old pair of ski

Damn it, I must be slipping.

I should have reconsidered my clothing choices before I left for class this morning, but I was pla

The worst part is that I know I’m bound to drop the ball again. I get so razor-sharp focused on schoolwork that everything else just ends up being white noise. I forget there is a real world that I still need to deal with outside Richfield’s walls, and dressing it up for these creeps is part of my everyday life. Since today I failed miserably to remember my norm, my tips are going to suck ass.

I just have to think of another way to make up for it. I could flirt with these assholes to get some extra money in, but giving them their daily dose of eye-candy is as far as I’m willing to go for a bit of cash. Flirting leads men to have expectations, and men with expectations usually get handsy, which then leads me to either punching their lights out or kneeing them in the junk. And then all my tips go out the window, along with my job. As much as I wish I could kick this sleazy shithole to the curb, I need the money. No way around that.

I look over at Janet working the crowd, sitting on laps and giggling like a schoolgirl, throwing me a wink to rub it in my face how she’s going to make bank tonight. I might not like the bitch much, but I do envy her hustle. She’s thirty if she’s a day, and still wearing fuck-me short skirts and tops loose enough for the men here to get a peek at her goods.

It’s a smart move on her part because, let’s face it, men are stupid. The minute they open their wallet to pay her, they’re more than happy to shell out another five bucks just so they can have a few more seconds staring at her rack. And Janet is all too happy to relieve them of their money and let them have their fill. Of course, for Janet to feed her habit, working these suckers who only came in for a beer or two is just pocket change. The real big spenders get to take a trip with her out back, where she shows how accommodating she can be for an Andrew Jackson or a Grant.

No Benjamins here, I’m afraid. This is Southside, where even a ten-dollar bill is a hard commodity to come by.

“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath, aggravated with myself for being so careless.

I have to be more mindful of having my head in the game. My scholarship may pay for my tuition and board, but if I want to eat and keep the lights on at my mother’s, this job needs to pay me accordingly. And the measly eight dollars an hour that Big Jim pays me doesn’t cut it.

I only have one more year to muddle through this anyway, and then I’m out of here. Next summer I’ll be at my internship, and hopefully, they’ll keep me on as a paid aid while I get my law degree. This is the last year I’ll have to wash puke off the floor, cum off tabletops, or be some asshole’s pin-up girl for him to spank off to the minute he gets home. I’ve worked too hard to let it all fall apart in my last year. They want tits and ass, then that’s what they’ll get.

While making an inventory of all the slutty clothes I have, someone clears their throat behind me, interrupting my reverie. I plaster on a fake, sultry smile and get ready to put on my charm. Even looking like a day-old mess, I need to see if I can still work my magic and shift a few bills out of this shmuck’s pocket into my own.

Of course, when I turn around, the man sitting at the stool is the last one I ever thought would show his pretty face in here again.

“You lost, quarterback?” I ask with my hands on my hips, looking at the guy who gave the start of my senior year an unexpected twist.

“It’s rude not to text someone back after hanging out, you know,” he reprimands, without so much of a hello. Not that I care since the small pout he’s trying damn hard to hide is all the reaction I need, not to mention it’s sexy as fuck.

“Is it?” I ask, leaning against the counter, pushing the twins in his face just to get a rise out of him. Sure, Mary Kate and Ashley are all covered up, but I know my perky girls get him riled up anyway. “So, you’re telling me that you call back all the girls you hook up with?”

He looks down at his feet with guilt, and I know I got him pegged.

“Yeah, quarterback. I didn’t think so. Now, how about we do this little bit again, shall we? I’m sure your momma gave you more ma

“Hi, Stone,” he replies sheepishly, giving me the greeting I deserve while looking way too out of his comfort zone.

I bite down the chuckle that wants to leave me because, honestly, it’s too damn fu