Page 8 of Bounty
“Cassie.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“You sound just like Moose,” she squealed. She pressed her hand on her forehead. “Oh, swoon. Already in character. So rough and sexy.”
Was she fucking hitting on me or playing matchmaker?
Moose was a fucked up biker name. I’d told her that when she ran the idea of her photo shoot for the biker she imagined by me. Obviously, she hadn’t listened.
I glared at her. “I’m not wearing antlers or lounging on a moose pelt.”
She waved away the words. “We’ll work something out.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, but I let it go. “Who’s Cassie?” I asked again.
She dug into her little purse and came out with a piece of paper. “My oldest daughter. She just broke up with her boyfriend. A total loser. Call her. I think you two would be such an adorable couple.” She swiped a lock of hair behind her ear. “Even if she won’t listen to advice from Lenny and me, you would.”
I couldn’t imagine what the fuck gave her the impression that I’d jump in line with her dictates. Not setting her straight because time was wasting, I stuffed the phone number in the pocket of my cut. Had to admit, I was curious despite myself. What type of chick was Cassie for her mom to try and set her up with me?
“For a minute, I thought you wanted me to look after Effie.” I left it at that. I didn’t know how much her mom knew about how often we once communicated.
Tittering, Daria waved her hand. “Effie? She is entirely too sweet for you.” She leaned in, not recognizing she’d just offended the fuck out of me. Didn’t matter if I agreed. “She’s a social butterfly, but not the most experienced. I doubt she’s even had sex yet; probably saving herself for someone special. She has such a dazzling future ahead. She wants to open her own marketing agency someday. Become the biggest in Corpus, if not Texas and beyond.” Her eyes brightened as if she were relaying something I wanted to hear. “TMI, I know. I just want you to understand why she’s off-limits to you, hun.”
Instead of blasting her with a string of ‘fuck yous,’ I nodded.
“As much as I adore you, I don’t want my sweet Effie with you.” She beamed at me, too much of a damn ditz to recognize the insult of her words. “Now, are you sure I can’t convince you to hang out with me? Hubby says I can double the money.”
The offer might’ve tempted me before Effie sent me the tit pic. Now? Especially considering Daria’s conversation? Not for any fucking amount would I agree.
“Still a no-go,” I said through gritted teeth, reminding myself that this woman was my employer.
Long ago, Effie had mentioned that her mom could be too straightforward and too clueless. A fucked up combination. I’d brushed the text off as venting, putting little stock into the words. Daria hadn’t come across that way.
Keyword:Hadn’t.
Now, I realized Effie had spoken facts.
“Triple the amount of your fee if you come with, Slice.”
“Nope.”
Daria never understood I didn’t do the modeling for the fucking money. I did it because I’d gone through an existential crisis and questioned my life, so I returned to the life I’d known before my mother’s death. I’d wondered if I was a regular motherfucker would my ol’ ladies have split.
“She must be pretty special for you to pass up that type of money,” Daria chirped.
Effiewasfucking special.
Inside, I cringed at the thought. Outwardly, I clenched my jaw, stoic determination settling into me.
“One last offer—”
“Save it, Daria,” I growled. “I’m not interested.”
“Aww, that’s too bad. How about—” A frown tugged at her painted lips. The chime of her notification saved me. She dug into her handbag, pulled out a phone, and glanced at the screen. “I must run. My Uber is here, so tootles.”
Waving her fingers at me, she turned and hurried outside to the valet parking area. I watched her hop into a late-model SUV. Once it drove off, I turned.
Effie peeped around a corner of the archway that separated the lobby from the bank of elevators.
