I shake my head, trying to erase him as I gather my things and slip out of his room.
It’s still early morning, when most people are sleeping, but it’s hours past the end of my shift as I make my way to the parking lot. The tingle on my neck causes me to look around like someone is watching me.
Scanning the area, I don’t see anyone at first glance, but as I insert the key into the door of my car, I see Marshall. Someone was watching me, indeed—my ex’s right-hand man.
Certainly, he’s not here for me. No way. Marshall doesn’t shy away from confrontation, and as much as he may like me in general, he won’t push Monte when it comes down to it.
Ever.
He must be here for someone else.
That is my last thought as I get into my car and head home, sated, satisfied, and for the first time in my entire life, somehow okay.
I feel the tingle on the back of my neck again as I laugh to myself. “I’m okay until the bottom falls out, and in the end, the bottom will fall out.” I mutter the words to no one as I pull in at Jamie’s and park my car.
If only I had a crystal ball to show me the future…Although, I guess I should be careful what I wish for. I once heard someone say, “If you speak it, you give life to it.”
I drop Marisa off at school with dread settling into the pit of my stomach. Quickly, I make my way to the casino to pick up my paycheck, aware I need to get to the bank and deposit the funds so the check I just wrote for her tuition doesn’t bounce.
I sign the paper at the office for receiving my check, and I’m just outside the door when my cheap-ass, prepaid cellphone rings. The number looks familiar, though not one I recognize as an emergency call, like Jamie or Marisa’s school. With the push of a button, the call connects.
“Hello,” I answer nonchalantly.
“Hailey.” His voice is gravelly and distinctive, and the fact that he is merely saying my name is a death sentence. “It’s Marshall. Gotta tell you, Monte knows about your tryst with Aces. This is not a good thing for you, or for Ris Priss. Gotta have a payment.”
Without a second thought, without hesitation, I bolt to the parking lot. Marshall called and threatened Marisa, and I know what this means. I have lived the life long enough to know I have to get to my daughter now. Tears run freely down my face, but I don’t give a fuck.
Someone grabs me. I think it’s Morrison Caldwell, but I don’t have time for him right now. I jerk free and continue out of the casino. I have to get to Marisa.
Right. The. Fuck. Now.
Chapter 9
Morrison
I watch as she basically runs out the door. It’s not my style to chase after ass, but then again, I have never had ass so fine in my life. This chick gives as good as she gets, too.
They say gambling is an addiction, but I assure you it’s not. I can walk away from the table anytime I want. That platinum *, however…Hailey, she’s addictive. She’s crack on steroids. She has me renting a room in this casino when I own a fucking place, just so I can make sure I’m tappin’ that ass again, tasting that * again, devouring her mouth again. I’m a platinum junkie.
Before I can convince myself it’s a bad idea, I am out the door and running to my car. I catch her taking a left out of my peripheral vision. I also see her wipe her eyes, and I immediately feel sick. I don’t know if I’m sick because she’s crying, thinking maybe it’s about me; if I’m sick because she’s upset, and I wanna know why; or if I’m sick because I wanna know who has her so fucking emotional that she is running after him.
As a result, I do what any man who has been plugged into platinum would do—I follow at a close distance.
“I must be out of my damn mind,” I say to myself as I count, finding I am three cars behind her.
Three is a good number.
My phone rings, and I hit the answer button on my steering wheel. “This is Morrison.”
“No shit.” Jagger laughs, the sound flowing through my stereo speakers.
“Sorry, man. I, um…” She swerves between two cars and moves into the right lane. I check my mirror, only to see I can’t get over. “Fuck!”
“Is that so?”
“Shit, man, sorry. I forgot you were there.”
“Damn, man, are you already drunk? It’s early.”
“No, I’m…uh…I’m…” I lay on my horn as I inch into the right lane, and some asshole in a jacked-up pickup nearly clips me. “Watch it, motherfucker!”
“You okay?”
I swerve behind the jacked-up Dodge and nearly get hit in the ass, but I’m in the right lane.
Horns blare behind me, and I want to flip the asshole off; instead, I lean out the window and look back at him. “Did you see me signal, asshole?”
“What in the fuck has gotten into you?” Jagger chuckles.