“What in the fuck was that?” she practically yells at me as she wipes her mouth and chin with the tissue I hand her from the box on my desk. See, I’m not a total dickhead.
Without looking up from where I clean myself up with another tissue, I shrug and say it as simply and as honestly as I can. “That was me giving you what YOU wanted and what I needed. That’s what that was, sweetheart.”
I look up when she throws the balled up tissue against my chest. “You are an asshole!” She yells and I laugh, I fucking laugh.
An asshole, huh? Skye was right. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
**Skye**
Feeling much better than I did last night, I dance around my apartment like one of my girls on the pole. Even I shake my head at that idea. I know my limitations after all. Now, don’t get me wrong I’ve never lacked for male attention. Plenty of guys are attracted to bigger girls—no joke.
I’ve been hit on at the club more times than I can count. But there I know I just may be their last hope for pussy after a night of watching gyrating bodies that they really desire. Not my deal. Not my problem and not interested. The last thing I need is to be some kind of consolation prize. Screw that nonsense. I’m thick, I’m fat—whatever, but I’m not desperate.
Whoever said a fat girl couldn’t be sexy was sadly mistaken. I work around damn near perfect bodies, so it was only natural I fought my own feelings of inadequacies. But I’ve conquered them. I was sick of hating the woman I am, rather the woman I was. It was a choice I decided to make, a choice to accept myself as I am. Whoever doesn’t like it can literally kiss my fat ass. Cranking the volume up, I get lost in the music, lost in the sensual feel the low bass gives me. I make my way down the hall and into my room as I shimmy and shake what my mama gave me. About all she ever gave me.
Saturday nights are the busiest at Pinkies and my best tip night. Rummaging through my closet, I slide one hanger after another draped in black fabric. Black is slimming, right? That’s bull, but it’s what I love so I let myself be clothed in the delusion.
Four hours later, I’m two and a half hours into my first shift and I’ve already made more in tips than half of what I make at the diner in a week. Hopefully, soon enough I can quit my job there, but for now, I’ll suck it up. Four more payments and my car is mine clear and free, paying off the five-year loan in just under three years. My only debt will be in the home I’m buying and that payment is doable. Unlike my mother, I will never rely on a man, ever. I’m creating my destiny—not just falling into it. That I refuse to do.
“Miss? Miss?” I hear over my shoulder; duty calls. Without even looking at the man who called, I mindlessly walk to his table and ask for his drink order: seven-seven on the rocks. My thoughts aren’t on my job today. Instead, I’m running through my checklist, everything I need to do before the big moving day. Even without my family around next Saturday, I know there will be a crew at my door. Friends fill in where family falls short. And, they do so outta choice rather than obligation.
“Sunny? Darlin’?”
Looking up, I see Nate behind the bar looking at me. “Sorry, what, Nate?” He motions toward my tray and for the first time I see he’s already filled the few drink orders I’d taken. “Whoa. Where did I go, huh?”
His eyes show his concern before his heavy hand settles over mine on the shellac bar top. “You okay, Sunny?”
I know my smile is weak, but I still give him one. “I’m fine—just thinking.”
“You’ll be fine; I know it. You’re ready for this.” He winks at me. “I’ll be there Saturday before my shift starts at four and I’ll bring a friend who has a truck. We’ve got this, no worries.”
I mouth a silent thank you when the music starts back up and the bass practically blows me over. This song always bowls me over, but I want to deliver my orders so I can watch Eden dance. She reminds me that there’s an art form here, an athlete mixed with an artist. She’s always been so much more than a naked girl on the stage.
I drop off the two drink orders without a hitch. Mr. Seven-Seven doesn’t go quite as smoothly. “What’s your name, sugar?” He asks me as I set his drink down on the cardboard coaster in front of him.
“It’s definitely not sugar, I’ll tell you that.” I’m used to the flirting, and I’m not bad at it myself, but I’m far from in the mood. “Sunny.”
He leans forward pointing to his ear and asks for my name again. For the first time, I look at him. Oh. My. God. He is one beautiful man. Piercing green eyes, full lips but not to big either, buzzed hair and a day’s growth of beard dusting his jaw. Mercy. Unlike before, he has my full attention now.
Bending closer, I say my name again, and I feel him shudder when I speak against his ear.
“Sunny?” he asks to be sure, and all I can do is nod. “Sunny, huh?” When he turns to face me, I see he lets his eyes brush over me. Across my face, down to my ample chest, then, he continues until he hits my shoes before he speaks again. “You’re not gonna tell me your real name are you, beautiful?”
I’d be okay if he wanted to call me beautiful instead of my name, my fake name.
Shaking my head at his question, he smiles. “I didn’t think so.” Extending his hand, I shake it as he stands up. This time he puts his lips against my ear. “I’m Rhett, and that’s my real name, but you can call me whatever you like and I’d bet I’d still answer, beautiful.” I’m positive that my eyes rolled back into my head when he rubbed his stubbled cheek across mine before taking his seat again.
“Everything okay here, Sunny?” Cal asks as he approaches the table. The only response that I’m capable of is to smile and nod. The man had turned me into some kind of fucking bobble head.
“How you doing, Cal?” Mr. Seven-Seven knows my boss? “Remember me?” I watch as Cal’s face lights up like the Fourth of July.
“Rhett? Rhett Baxter? Is that you, you sorry sonuva bitch!” Cal practically tackles the man. The two did that weird man hand grab hug thing that only men do before sitting back down. “Sunny, I want you to bring Rhett anything he wants, and it’s on the house.”
Just as I’m about to agree, Rhett speaks. “I’m not sure that’s possible, Cal.”
“And why the hell not?” My boss looks from Rhett then back to me. I’m clueless, and all I can do is shrug.
“See the thing is, Cal, what I want is this beauty’s name and her number.”
I’m not sure if Cal or Rhett’s smile is bigger when they both look up at me standing there like a freaking idiot not knowing what I should do next. “Sunny.’ I hear Cal tell him…again.
“Cal, you forget who you’re talking to here. I want her real name.”
Cal shakes his much-gelled head as he bellows his laughter. “That’s up to her, Rhett, up to her.” When Cal pulls a third chair over from a nearby table, he motions for me to sit. I am so confused about what the hell is happening, but at least I can watch the rest of Eden’s set.
I listen for a minute as the two men talk. Turns out that Rhett had worked at the club just over four years ago, leaving just before I’d been hired. Shame. He would’ve been fun to look at during work hours. When Eden’s music slows, I know she’s at the part that takes my breath every time.
Chapter Five
**Skye**
When I feel a tap on my shoulder, I turn and see Rhett just inches from my face. Where had Cal gone? I look around, and I hear him chuckling. “Something funny?”
“Yeah, you are, beautiful.”
Just because he’s annoying me, I remind him. “It’s Sunny, by the way.”
“No, no it isn’t, and I know that as much as you do…beautiful.” He does have a point there, but no way would I let him know that. “You a lesbian?” His question has me gaping at him. What. In. The. Fuck.