Her.
“Fuck!” I bit my bottom lip the way she would when she was turned on but needed to hide it and came. I was getting restless thinking about having Mian under my power again.
I slipped out early the next morning and made my way to the prison. I may have given into my dick last night, but I wouldn’t be ruled by it. Moving through the crowd of people rushing in to visit their loved ones, I found an empty locker and stored my phone, wallet, and keys. I checked in with the lobby officer and then waited for the clearance to go through security like many times before.
After waiting for half an hour, we were allowed into the visitation hall. Despite the crowd, it didn’t take long to find the man I came to see. When he spotted me, I nodded and took a seat.
Jonny was a reckless druggie who specialized in grand theft auto when he was on the outside. He was also as sneaky as they come which is why I hired him to get close to his roommate whom I had a deep interest in.
“Hey, man! How are you?”
“What do you have for me?” As usual, I skipped the pleasantries and jumped right into business, but Jonny always insisted on being friendly.
“You’re still an ill-tempered son of a bitch, eh?”
“Jonny…”
“Right. Remember, I told you he never gets visitors?” He took a look around and leaned in. “Well, three days ago he gets a visit.”
“From who?”
“He said it was his daughter. I never even knew he had a kid since he never mentioned it before.”
“Did he say why she was here?”
“Said she was in a bad situation and needed money.”
“What else?”
“I couldn’t get much out of him, but he did say something about a book.”
“A book…”
“Yeah. He said if he could get to it and sell it, then his daughter and grandson could survive.”
I wanted nothing more than to hurl the plastic chair across the room.
Mian Ross was not just a gifted liar. She was fucked, too.
Chapter Ten
Sex pays the bills… unless you’re bad at it.
MIAN
I stared up at the flashing sign lit in a perception of gold. The lettering mirrored the popular casino in Vegas. Taking a deep breath, I wobbled inside Caesar’s Palace on a pair of Brandi’s stilts.
Was I really going to do this?
A couple of shots of whiskey and a bag of Brandi’s tricks ensured I would. I even allowed Brandi to babysit because I couldn’t admit to my best friend that I’d fallen so far that I’d resort to taking my clothes off for a stack of dollar bills.
The first thing I noticed when I walked inside was the thick cloud of smoke. The second was the earsplitting volume of the music and some rapper’s claim that all he wants for his birthday is a big booty hoe.
I wobbled forward until a burly bouncer with midnight skin, a bald head, and a face tattoo smashed his hand into my chest. I careened backward and braced myself for the fall, but a hard warm wall behind me broke my fall. I peeked over my shoulder and found another beefcake standing with his arms crossed.
“Pay the cover.”
“But I…I’m… I—”
“Look, I don’t care how fine you are. You don’t get in without paying the cover.” He held out a beefy hand with his palm up.
“I’m not here to, ummm…”
His bushy eyebrows furrowed. “You here to see Caesar?”
Too ashamed to speak the words, I nodded.
My stomach pitched and turned when he took his time looking me over. Something like approval shone in his eyes, but then his hand lifted from his side to finger the black belt on Brandi’s trench coat I was wearing. I shrunk back.
He snorted then laughed when he noticed my reaction. “Girl, you ain’t here to see no Caesar.” Beefcake number two joined in on the amusement.
“Yes, I am. Are you going to let me in or not?”
“Sure. Sure. I got to see this. Follow me.” With a lift of his chin to his partner, he turned and disappeared into the dark and the smoke. I struggled to keep up. Thankfully, the neon lettering on the back of his shirt guided me through the crowd. It was the fourth of July, and it seemed as if all of Chicago had chosen this place to celebrate. I could smell the booze, sweat, and sex, but was too afraid I’d turn and run if I peeked. When he finally stopped, I noticed it was in front of a purple door with a gold handle. Gold lettering spelled out Caesar’s Throne. Apparently, the sleaze of this place was hidden in plain sight.
Beefcake One knocked three times and then waited dutifully to be permitted entrance.
“I’m busy,” a gruff voice on the other side called.