Warner relaxes back in his chair, his hands poised in a steeple in front of him. “What are you looking for?” Warner quips, his eyes squinted as he observes Bull.
“I need partnership in the business. That’s it,” Bull says it like it is—no bullshit.
Warner nods slowly, thinking it over. “You send me some of your crew on the weekends for when things get rowdy; let me dip my fingers into your drugs when I want. Give me fifty percent of the cost of what you’re running under the table and I’ll make you a partner,” Warner says calmly. My lips twitch with amusement. He has lost his mind if he thinks he is getting all that.
Bull laughs. “Fuck no.”
“To what exactly?” Warner asks, eyes furrowed in confusion.
“To the fifty percent,” Shadow declares in disbelief. I nod in agreement. That is a shitty offer.
“Okay, what would be reasonable?” Warner asks, shrugging.
A knock comes at the door, interrupting Bull before he has a chance to counter offer.
“What?” Warner hollers, his tone edging on frustration.
Sasha walks in, her red lips pierced with irritation. “One of the girls is not taking rejection very well and has locked herself in the cage,” she states, exasperated.
“Damn it,” Warner curses, standing up from his desk. “I’ll be right back,” he mutters, leaving the room, shutting the door behind him as he goes.
“What do you think?” Bull questions to no one in particular.
“I think nothing more than twenty-five percent,” I suggest, shrugging.
“Why’s that?” Bull asks, looking my way.
“He’s a cover up. A way to hide what we are making under the table. A trade of services would do us better than throwing cash his way. I have seen strip clubs come and go, not to say anything bad about your Uncle Lip, but who’s to say this one won’t close in a month leaving us back where we are but with less money to entice a new partner?” I reply.
“Think he will take twenty percent?” Shadow questions. By the looks of Lip’s uncle, favors and drugs wouldn’t be a problem.
“He’s a fucking convict, of course he will,” I scuff.
“He is?” Old Guy asks, looking at Lip for the answer.
“How did you know that?” Lip questions, his eyes furrowed.
“Just the looks of him. I can tell,” I reply bluntly.
Warner comes back into the room, nearly slamming Shadow against the wall with the door. “What the fuck, man?” Shadow snaps, pushing the door away.
“Sorry about that, and for the interruption. Now, where were we?” Warner asks, sitting behind the desk.
“Percentages,” Bull reminds him.
“Right, so what are we thinking?” Warner questions.
“Twenty percent, drugs, and a few of my men on the weekends,” Bull offers. Warner rests his elbows on the desk as his eyes furrow in concentration. Just as I think he is going to reject the offer, he smiles, revealing his gold tooth.
“Deal.” Warner stands, his arm held out straight to shake Bull’s.
“Deal,” Bull repeats, shaking his hand in return.
3
Jessica
I grab my clipboard from the counter looking at the patients still in the emergency room from the wreck. My vision’s doubling from the exhaustion the day has held.
“Been a madhouse in here today,” Doctor Meldon says, stepping up beside me.
“Hey, Doctor Meldon,” I reply. He’s been here all day from the looks of it.
“Would you stop calling me that? Call me Shane,” he demands, his head tilted to the side, annoyed.
“Fine. Where is my resident? These cannot be right,” I state, flipping through patient files that are half-ass filled out.
“We’ve got Debra,” Shane answers hesitantly. I look up and see his brown eyes shine as they meet mine. His dirty blond hair is combed over, and his defined cheeks hold a five o’clock shadow. I can’t help but look him down. His arms are toned, but not muscular, and with his blue shirt tucked into his scrub bottoms, my hands twitch to untie them. My cheeks stain from the thoughts drifting in my head.
“Did someone say my name?” Debra asks, walking up to me. Her face is flushed red and she has stray hairs everywhere. She is the most disorganized resident I have and a giant pain in my ass. Last week, she almost killed a patient because she failed to read their allergy chart. Which is something you learn to do as a ritual with a patient on day one. So her ass is on probation and doing my paperwork, for now.
“Fix these,” I snap, piling the folders in her arms.
“I will,” she replies with a shaky voice as she walks away.
“So, you wanna go grab a bite?” Shane asks, leaning against the counter. He is almost as relentless as Bobby, but I have no problem telling Shane no, unlike I do with Bobby. Shane is a good-looking guy and has a lot going for him, but I don’t want a relationship. Judging by the behavior of Shane since he has been here, he wants something serious, and I’m not the kind of girl who wants serious. I don’t want love, or the heartbreak that accompanies it.