me slap my back in approval. From the strands of endless gibberish coming from the crowd, I realize they are all thinking that this is just some fucked-up hazing from a rival team, wanting to mess with my head before a big game. Thing is, there is no big game this weekend, and if these kids used the same brain cells they are wasting to upload pictures of my wrecked car on every social media platform there is, they would also put two and two together.
“Remember when I said that I would take The Society’s hoopla seriously when shit hit the fan?” Easton asks beside me, nodding at the student body around us as if joining in on the joke. “Well, this is our motherfucking wakeup call that these cunts mean business.”
I crack my knuckles, trying to keep my fake, standoffish grin on my lips, rather than letting the dread set in.
“What do we do now?” I mutter under my breath, not wanting anyone to pick up on my panicked question.
“We don’t do shit. You are the one who has to step up their game.”
“And how exactly do I do that?”
“You know what you have to do, Finn. Go see Stone, man. It’s her they want.”
Chapter 13
Stone
“You look like shit,” Janet laughs, eyeing me up and down after giving me her table’s order.
“Geez, thanks, bitch. Don’t hold back or anything,” I grumble sarcastically as I pour three shots of Jack for her.
She slants her eyes and leans closer to the bar counter, making sure tonight’s clientele get a good eyeful of her ass in that wide belt she insists on calling a skirt. It’s pathetic the lengths my colleague will go to get these rejects grabbing their balls and drooling at the corner of their mouths for an ass that can be bought with a few dollar bills or a line of coke.
I’ve seen Janet too many times on her knees in the storage room, working on her ‘extra income’. If she was trying to earn money to keep her lights on or her fridge stocked up, I’d think it as a sad situation. Still, since it’s just for her to snort up her nose or shoot down her vein, I couldn’t be more repulsed about how she comes by the extra cash.
The problem with Janet giving her hoochie away like it’s Christmas morning is that some of these losers think I’m just as skanky and easily bought. Though they quickly learn how that isn’t the case when they try to put their hands on me. I don’t fall to my knees unless I’m in the mood, and only in front of who I damn well please—the losers that come every night to Big Jim’s don’t make the cut.
“Don’t get pissy, honey. I’m just calling it as I see it,” Janet placates with her deep southern twang, as if that will take the sting away from her insult.
“Oh yeah? And what do you see?” I cross my arms over my chest, not really giving a rat’s ass about what she thinks one way or the other.
“A girl who isn’t going to get any tips looking like that,” she rebukes, her red acrylic nail drawing an invisible line up and down my short frame to make her point. “I thought you were a smart college girl. I guess you’re just as stupid as the rest of us,” she taunts, wiggling her brows and prancing off to the customers that ordered the whiskey.
Even though my resting bitch face is permanently stitched on, I know the skank is right—Big Jim’s isn’t classy. There’s no dress code for staff, but the scruffy-looking clientele will pay a little extra if they see some cleavage or leg. And tonight, I’m definitely not giving them their money’s worth with an old pair of skinny, black jeans and a raggedy ‘The Smiths’ T-shirt that should have been thrown out ages ago due to its overuse. The clothes covering all my prized treasures from these horndogs’ eyes won’t win me any brownie points or pay Mom’s grocery bill this week.
Damn it, I must be slipping.
I should have reconsidered my clothing choices before I left for class this morning, but I was planning to drop by the dorm before clocking in. Unfortunately, I ran late from my study session at school this afternoon, and before I knew it, it was time for my shift at this dump, so I didn’t have time to go back to my room and slut