I frown. “No, it doesn’t. The MC are particular about who they let in the doors.” I say that with tongue in cheek because they let any old skank in but I don’t need to let her know.
Not that I’m saying she’s one, but her eyes are wide with wonderment now we’re talking about the guys.
“That cute blonde one,” she blurts. “The one I passed on the way in, he’s hot, who is he?”
I clear my throat, knowing she’s talking about Sawyer. “He’s not available,” I say.
She pouts. “Damn it. Some girls get all the luck.”
“So, why did you leave your current job?” I ask, and it’s from that question this entire thing goes pear-shaped.
“Oh, well, uh, I wasn’t gonna bring this up, but it isn’t like I keep it a secret,” she giggles and I wonder how I get out of here and fast. “Well, I had a little sideline, and a couple of the guys at work found out about it.”
“Sideline?”
“OnlyFans,” she says, like we’re discussing the weather. “Everyone has one these days.”
Everyone?
Hmm. I don’t think that’s entirely accurate. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose. I’m not a prude, and I don’t have anything against anyone doing what they want to do, of course, but really? At an interview? You’re telling your potential boss you have an OF account?
Jesus, hell almighty. What is the world coming to? Is nothing sacred anymore?
“Okaaay,” I say, because I can’t think of anything else to say. Clearly OF isn’t paying very much if she’s still working, and that thought right there cuts me short of saying anything more.
I’m all for women’s liberation, but girls selling their bodies for $8 a month also makes me sad because that’s what this world has come to. Women selling their bodies because theychoose to is better than women selling their bodies because they don’t. And that’s what I cling to when Jill leaves at the end of her interview. Thank god she never said anything more about Sawyer.
I can’t stop thinking about him.
He was right. We spent all day Sunday in bed, and I can still feel him between my legs. Hell, I think I’ll be feeling him between my legs for quite some time yet.
After Jill leaves, I check my phone. Erica is due in shortly but couldn’t make it for the first few interviews. So far, nobody has struck out at me. I want to find the right person, not just a butt in a seat. They have to fit in and gel with the crew, and not just be here to ogle the boys. Especially not Sawyer. A sense of infinite jealousy washed over me as she goaded me for more information on him when she was leaving. I almost told her we spent the entire weekend in his bed, but I didn’t want to sour the mood. There’s also no need to gloat, that wouldn’t be fair.
Sawyer is an attractive man and I’ve always been aware of that. It hasn’t changed just because we slept together.
He also told me something he shouldn’t have: about what happened in the warehouse. I know from the other girls that pillow talk is a thing, but I felt quite chuffed with myself that he’d confess, not that I wanted to hear about him torturing a man, he also didn’t tell me what happened to the other man, but I suspect the worst.
Both of them were bad men. They did bad things. They deserve whatever is coming to them.
I told Sawyer to be careful. I know he thinks he has a hunch with this ex-Chicago mafia dude, but these are dangerous people. Then he reminded me that the MC were dangerous people, too, and he does have a point. I wouldn’t want to cross any of them.
“So much for club business.” I smile into his chest.
“Yeah, well, keep whatever I say in that pretty little head of yours,” he says. “I don’t enjoy lyin’ to you where I’ve been, but you know I’m not gonna stop until I find out who was behind all of this.”
“I know,” I say, my breath shaky. “I get why, and I’m behind you all the way. Just don’t get hurt.”
I’d never tell him not to do something, that isn’t fair. And he was on his own personal journey long before I came along, and vice versa. Not that I’m going to be following in his footsteps anytime soon, I’m more of a ‘karma will get them eventually’ kind of person. Sawyer, just like my cousins, isn’t.
I smile at the memory of him pillow talking, then I hear someone clear their throat. “You okay? You look weird,” Brew says, eyeing me as I drop my smile.
“Nice to see you too, Brewster.”
I sit back in my seat behind the desk. Trust him to be Mr. Observant.
“Why are you smilin’?”
“Why? Am I not allowed to smile around here?”