Page 3 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

She smiles, but I can barely pay attention to her now. I have to know where that other woman came from. Who is she, and why does she look so familiar?

I’ve had too many drinks to retain what little tact God graced me with. I look back at the woman on the pole, catching her gaze for the briefest of seconds but long enough to see fear.

A former enemy? I don’t usually rub shoulders with women in the Mafia business.

“Do you want a double dance or something?” Peach asks, trying to bargain now that she’s lost my attention again. She knows she’s not getting money if I make a switch, but I think it’s a lost cause for her now. I have to know who that woman is.

“Who’s the one on the pole?” I ask, finally looking back at Peach.

Her exacerbated expression switches back to a smile in an instant. “Bubbles.”

I laugh. “Jesus, you girls choose some stupid names.”

“Well, I’m not telling you her real name. That’s not how we do things here,” Peach says, getting snippy.

I roll my eyes, as the music hints at an ending. Peach glares at me before slipping away to the dressing room, and I’m left alone to figure out who the hell Bubbles really is. I should go talk to her… but first, I’m going to finish my beer.

Both of them.

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