Page 52 of Judgment

The way no one in this place seems to care about who I am is almost amusing.

Almost.

The tables aren’t marked, so I’m left wandering my way across the floor until the silent man sticking to me like a sullen shadow pulls out a chair at one of the tiny, two-seater tables situated right against one long side of the center stage.

I look back at the section I’ve seen Paisley work. It’s not close enough that I would think she’d be assigned this table too.

“Sit down.” The bouncer kicks the other chair out at me. “Relax.”

I ignore the seat. “I’m here to see someone specific.”

He snorts out a laugh. “You and everyone else.” He puts one black boot on the leg of the chair between us and shoves it into me. “Vi says this is where you’re supposed to sit, so this is where you’re gonna sit.”

I work my jaw from side to side.

I came into this place irritated, and it’s only gotten worse since I walked through the doors. “Is this how you treat all your customers?”

The man squints at me. “I’m not here for you.” He thumbs toward the stage. “I’m here to take care of the girls you came to see.”

“Girl.”

His wide brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“Girl.” I hold up one finger. “I’m here to see one girl.” I pause because I don’t like the way that last word sits on my tongue. “Woman.”

“Fine.” Carlos leans back in his seat. “I’m here to take care of the woman you’re here to see.”

I stare at the bouncer a second longer. “Do you need to step in often?”

The only club I frequent is the one with no name, and even then it’s only because I have to. I try to stay away from places like this.

To avoid the questions they might make me want to ask, which would do me no good since there’s no one left to answer them.

The chair pushed against my front jostles again as Carlos knocks it, reminding me that he’s the one calling the shots.

Normally I’d be deciding how he should die, but this man keeps Paisley safe and keeping her safe is in my best interest.

So I drag the chair closer to him and sit. I might not kill him for tonight, but he’s definitely not going to get out of this comfortably. “Tell me about yourself, Carlos.” I lean back in the seat, assuming the same casual pose I’ve practiced so many times in my life I could never count them all.

Carlos’s eyes rest on my face, unfazed. “I work here.”

I wait, thinking he might give me more, but Carlos is smarter than I expected and his lips stay sealed shut, offering nothing more than what I already know.

“And do you like working he—” I’m suddenly hit hard from behind, shoved closer to the table by a staggering kid in a baseball cap and an I ? NY t-shirt.

I start to get on my feet, but Carlos grabs me by the sleeve and yanks me back into my seat. “Calm your tits, fancy-pants.”

I slowly drag my scowl off the group of college-age children who are shoving their way to a long table situated up one side of the stage and focus it on Carlos. “What did you just call me?”

He leans forward, making it clear he’s not worried at all. “Fancy. Pants.” He drops back in his seat, crossing both arms back across his girthy chest and stomach. “I figured you didn’t want to get kicked out before you got to see the gi—” He amends when I sharpen my stare. “Woman you came here for.”

I don’t enjoy the fact that he’s not wrong.

I’m not leaving this place without seeing Paisley and finding out why she lied about being here.

Not that I’ve seen any sign of her.

I lean toward Carlos as the volume of the music starts to pick up and the lights drop down. “Where’s our server?”

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