Page 16 of Filthy Liar

I want to be Dillion. Just Dillion.

Not Albert’s sister, not Albert Senior’s granddaughter.

I don’t want to be affiliated with the Southern Mafia. I just want to live my life—a good, clean life—and I won’t get that anywhere near here. I need to go. Finding a realtor’s name, I touch the call icon and wait for the phone to ring.

When she answers, I tell her where my house is and that I would like to list it for sale. I don’t even ask how much for. I just tell her to send me the paperwork, and I’ll sign it immediately. I just want it gone.

I’m sure I’m being a bit over the top about it, maybe pulling the trigger a bit too soon, but I don’t think I care. This isn’t the place for me. I thought I could make it work with a free house and a man who worships my body several nights a week.

But I can’t.

In the daylight, this just isn’t the place for me. I don’t want to be known. I don’t want to be Albert’s sister. I don’t want to be anyone. I want to be invisible—forever.

The agent ends the call, and a few minutes later, I have an email in my inbox. Then another. There are a few different forms to fill out. I should sign them immediately, but I don’t. My alarm goes off, and it’s time for me to head to Sal’s. Leaving the emails in my inbox, I decide to get to the bar.

Gathering my things, I make my way straight toward the bar. There are two cars in the parking lot now. I inhale a deep breath and then let it out slowly before I thrust the car door open.

The heat hits me instantly. I try to breathe, but the air is so thick that it feels like I’m breathing honey. Each step I take toward the bar feels as if I’m moving through thick gel. My knees tremble, and my whole body quakes as I reach the front door.

Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I gently tug the door open and force myself into the bar. It’s small, much smaller than it looks from the outside. There are several hallways toward the back, and I wonder if they lead to other parts of the building because there is no way this one room is the entire building.

Shifting my gaze around, I try to find the owner of the voice I called earlier, but the entire bar is empty. Slowly, I walk through the building. I head toward the first hallway, which is on the left.

Before I reach the hall, a man appears from the dark. I jump back slightly, surprised by his sudden presence. He’s shorter, portly, older, and wears a huge smile.

“You must be the girl who called earlier,” he announces.

“I am,” I whisper.

His eyes scan my entire body, indeed sizing me up just like he said he would. “You would be great on stage, but I can tell you would be too nervous,” he announces.

I blink, staring at him, unsure of what to say. I don’t know how to respond to that. Not only would I be too nervous, but I would probably just cry up there. I don’t do well with a lot of attention focused on me. In fact, I’m not even sure I’m going to stay here, but I do need a little money to get me through whatever transition I decide on.

“You know anything about waitressing and gambling?” he asks.

Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times before I clear my throat. “I know a little about both.”

It’s the truth. I know how to give men drinks and smile, and I know how to play cards. I don’t like to play cards, and I don’t practice or even attempt to play, but I know how. He jerks his chin as if he’s making a decision.

“You got any tight black dresses?”

“Two,” I confess.

Although, I’m not sure why I’ve kept them. They’re from my life with my family, my past, the person I don’t ever want to be again. But they hang in the back of my closet, mainly as reminders of what never to allow myself to be again.

“Put one on and show up tomorrow at five in the evening. Let me get you a packet to fill out.”

And that is that. I am hired at Sal’s Bar. He doesn’t give me a tour. He tells me to go down the hallway to the left and nowhere else when I arrive tomorrow. I’m good with that. I’m sure that the strip club is to the right, and I have no desire to head in that direction.

Leaving the bar, I climb into my car and head back to my house to fill out the paperwork, which isn’t much. Just all mypersonal information so I can get paid. Which is important. Because I'm doing this for the sole purpose of getting paid.

CLINK

“We still having the party tonight?”I ask, thinking of Dillion.

It doesn’t matter that I fucked her last night. I want her again. I would fuck her right here and now in the middle of the conference table for everyone to watch. I don’t give a shit. I need her that damn badly. I’m addicted to every ounce of her. The sight of her, the way she smells, tastes, and feels. I can’t get enough of her.

“Yeah,” Atomic grunts. “Farewell party, because we’re leaving Sunday night. Midnight ride to those fucks and surprise the goddamn shit out of them.”

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