Her Dirty Bartenders (Men at Work #5) - Mika Lane Page 0,55

it was an advantage, to always assume things were going to work out in your favor. On the other hand, when they didn’t, it must be fucking devastating.

And Vaughn was about to find out what that felt like.

He stood casually leaning against the outside wall of Tableau, where he’d insisted on meeting me. I’d tried to convince him they would never let him in, but he thought if we were back together, there was no way they could lock him out.

Wrong.

“Okay, Stell,” he said in a grindingly patronizing tone, “whatever you say.”

Damn. He had the nerve to mock me.

That’s when Maze, Robbie, and Cab came out the door and headed our way.

Vaughn’s eyes grew wide and his arms dropped to his sides. He wasn’t expecting company.

But he held his chin up. “What the hell do you guys want? Are these your henchmen?” he asked, looking at me and laughing.

“Vaughn, I told you I’m not going back to Philly with you. In fact, I’m not going anywhere with you. You make me sick. My friends are here to make sure you understand that, loud and clear.”

“Bullshit,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Stell, I know you don’t want that picture of your whoring around to come out when your dad is in a tight reelection race.”

Such. A. Fucker.

“Do what you have to do, Vaughn, I’m going inside to work. The guys here will be having a little conversation with you.”

Anger flashed across his face. “What the hell? I’m not talking to these losers. I’m talking to you.”

Maze, Robbie, and Cab walked toward him, with the bouncers watching closely in the background.

“You’re not talking to her anymore, pal,” Robbie said.

Just before I let the door swing shut behind me, I looked over my shoulder at what I hoped would be the last time I ever laid eyes on Vaughn Breslin. The guys formed a circle around him and when he took a swing at Maze, Cab caught his arm and twisted it behind his back. He screamed like a baby.

I didn’t need to see any more. But I had a feeling that when they were done with him, he’d be heading back to Philly, fast.

I called my parents from the office, even though it was late on the East Coast.

“Mom. Is Dad there? I’d like to talk to you both.”

I heard her rustling around the kitchen. “Yes, he’s here, dear. He doesn’t head back to DC until tomorrow morning. Honey!” she called.

They pressed the speaker button, and we were all connected.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, Estella. What’s going on that you asked us to both be on the phone?”

I took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Vaughn came to Denver to try and convince me to return to Philly with him. When I said no, he got a photo of me… dancing. You see, I took a part-time job at a nightclub.”

“Oh, honey, you’re not waitressing, are you?” Mom asked.

“No, Mom. I help the bartenders when it’s busy.”

I could see her looking at my dad, her eyes wide. “Oh. Well, that sounds like fun.”

If she only knew.

“So he got an unflattering picture of me having fun, and tried to bribe me with it, saying if I didn’t come back with him, he’d give it to the press to make your reelection difficult.”

I could picture my father with his pissed-off face. Which would be getting more pissed off by the moment.

“Well. That’s extortion,” he huffed. “But what is it about the picture that makes him think it will cause trouble for the campaign?”

I smiled at his indignation. Politicians were good at that shit.

And how bad could the photo be? I’d never seen it.

At least he hadn’t gotten a photo of when I’d stripped for the guys on the platform. Now that would be a real problem.

“I don’t know, Dad. I was having fun. Nothing outrageous.”

Fingers crossed.

“That’s just terrible, dear. What did you tell him?” Mom asked.

“I told him to take a hike.”

My father burst out laughing.

I did not expect that.

“That’s perfect, honey. Never give in to someone who operates that way. I’m proud of you.”

What? Had I heard that right?

“I… thought you guys wanted me to marry him. You’re not mad?”

“Oh, honey, we thought you wanted to marry him, and we were trying to help,” Mom said.

“Stell, he’s a sniveling bootlicker. I never liked him,” Dad boomed.

Huh?

Were a thousand pounds just lifted from my shoulders? Because it sure felt like it.

“You’re not mad that he’s taking the photo to the press?” I asked, incredulous.

My dad