Page 2 of Sold on Them

I don’t want to lose the house I grew up in. I have so many memories here. It’s all I have left of my parents, Lily, and Ember. I can’t lose another piece of them, but I don’t have a couple of grand just lying around.

My job paid well, and I was able to save money by living with my parents. It was a little pathetic to be living with them at twenty-seven, but I loved it. I loved being able to see my parents and the twins every day. What can I say? I love my family.

My job was remote, so I didn’t have to drive into Detroit, which is an hour from where I grew up. It allowed me to save up some money, but the twenty grand I’ve saved in the three years I worked at this job doesn’t even put a dent in what they owed on the house.

Something tells me my bartending job isn’t going to cut it for saving money on top of my bills. Plus, it would take years for meto save up that much money as a bartender. I get tipped well, but not that well.

My eyes snag on the photos above my desk. There’s one of my parents kissing that always makes me smile. Another with the twins covered in mud when they were younger. A few pictures of them from the last few years, both together and separate. But the one my eyes are drawn to is the family picture we took on my birthday last year.

They left for California two days later.

We all look so happy. Wewereso happy.

I still struggle with grief over losing them so suddenly. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to think of them without it hurting, but I’m okay with that. It just means I’ll never forget them.

I just wish they were still here with me.

Wiping away my tears, another photo snags my attention.

This one is of two boys and a girl. Me and my childhood best friends at the beginning of summer before they were ripped out of my life.

There are a lot of memories of the two of them in this house, too. I don’t know if they’re alive or dead, but I sure hope they’re still alive. Even if they are, they’re just as lost to me as my family is.

It’s just another reason I can’t lose this house.

Glancing at the time, I curse and jump up. I’d been lost to my thoughts longer than I thought. I need to get changed so I can head to work. Since it’s Friday, I’m scheduled to work at Mirage, the strip club I bartend at. At least I have tonight and tomorrow where I’ll get paid.

I’ll have to talk to Harrison to see about picking up more shifts. Working two nights a week isn’t going to cut it. I need to work more while I look for another job. It’s going to suck having to drive two hours a day to get there, but I don’t really have any other options.

I hurry into my en suite and start up the shower. Working will help keep my mind off the shitshow my life has become. I just need to get ready quickly so I’m not late. That won’t look good when I’m about to ask for more hours.

After a quick shower, I blow-dry my dirty blonde hair and curl it some to give it more volume. A smokey eye, enough blush to give my face some color, and a bright red lip gives me the look I need to get those tips coming in. I throw on a pair of tight, stretchy black booty shorts and a cropped black bustier top with rhinestones on the cups.

The last thing I add is my black heels. It’s a requirement that we wear heels, even as bartenders. It took me forever to find ones that don’t kill my feet. I have multiple pairs in various colors because they’re seriously the best.

Turning to look in the full-length mirror, I nod. The bustier gives my B-cup tits a nice boost, leaving plenty of cleavage revealed. The crop top leaves my toned stomach bare, and the shorts hug my curves perfectly without having my ass hanging out.

It’s just the right amount of sexy. After all, no one wants the bartenders outshining the dancers.

Grabbing my purse and keys, I head for the car. I have a little over an hour before my shift starts, so I should be fine. The drive should allow me to clear my head of all the shit I have going on so I can put on my work persona.

Yes, work is just the distraction I need.

Chapter Two

Damon

Shoving my hard hat off, I stalk to my truck and ignore my co-workers calling after me. They want me to go out with them, but that isn’t an option, as they well know.

Thursday through Monday night, I work a second job as a bouncer at a popular club. Working two jobs suck, but I do what I have to do to make sure my mom gets the care she needs. She has early-onset dementia, so she needs someone with her at all times. The facility I have her at is one of the best, meaning she gets the best treatments, nurses, and doctors, but it also means I’m paying out the ass for her to be there.

I would do anything for my mom. She’s always been there for me—even when our lives went to shit ten years ago. She neveronce blamed me for what happened. Not that it had been my fault.

No, that laid with my dad—the bastard.

Throwing open the door of my truck, I throw the hard hat onto the passenger seat before shucking off the safety vest we’re required to wear. It joins my hard hat as I climb in and tear out of the parking lot.

We’d had an hour of mandatory overtime tonight, which I love because it’s good money, but it means I have less time until I have to be at Ivory Tower. It’s already six, and I have to be there by eight. I have to hurry back to my tiny ass apartment, eat, shower, and get ready before making the thirty-minute drive to the club.

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