Page 11 of Forgotten Deeds

I keep glancing nervously over my shoulder as I hurry to the club’s back door, sighing a breath of relief when the devil doesn’t appear. I’ve got enough shit to deal with without analyzing why I’ve masturbated to the thought of a man who might really be mobbed-up. Granted, most of the rumors about Darius sound like bullshit, but I’d be a fool to ignore the red flag of him dropping ten grand—cash—without so much as blinking an eye. Not to mention his “not a nickname” nickname.

I try to sneak past Leo’s office, but he spots me. “Pearl, just a sec.”

Sticking my head in his door, I plaster on a smile. I swear to God, if another slimeball harasses me, I’m going to lose it. “What’s up, Leo?”

“This is yours.” He holds up an envelope, and I walk over and grab it. Peeking inside, I’m shocked to find stacks of hundred dollar bills. “From last night, minus the house cut,” he explains.

“Thanks,” I say, stunned.

He nods, indicating the conversation’s over, and I keep walking.

“Heard a rumor about Pearl sucking Leo’s dick,” I overhear Amethyst lying as I step into the dressing room. “Maybe that’s why he gave Star the boot. To keep his little BJ buddy happy.”

“Amethyst, you are so full of shit,” I say, and she spins around.

“Just what I heard,” she says, examining her nails.

“I’d be careful, Amethyst. Pearl is Diávolos’ girl,” Chrissy warns.

Amethyst’s eyes go wide, and I say, “That’s right. Eat your heart out.”

The girls gasp, whispering as I change into my stage clothes and stash my bag and envelope in my locker. I’m not Diávolos’ girl, but I’m starting to see the upside of everyone at the club believing I am.

Hitting the main floor with a spring in my step, I approach the front door bouncer and say, “Hey, there’s a man who’s causing problems for me. If he tries to get into the club, could you turn him away? Name’s Robert Miller. Early fifties. Around six feet tall. Lean build. Light brown hair graying around the ears. Fair skin. Green eyes. Preppy dress.”

“I would do this why?” he asks in a bored tone.

Reaching in my g-string, I hand him a hundred dollar bill.

“Should’ve led with that,” he tells me, stuffing the money in his pocket. “Robert Miller’s a no-go.”

If only handling Professor Miller were that easy in my other world.

* * *

Darius

Hearing every word the good professor said to Lily—I was standing right outside the fucker’s office while he was threatening and sexually harassing her—I’m now outside his house. This neighborhood should really increase the HOA monthly fee, because the security around here’s nonexistent.

I’ve already checked the exterior to make sure there are no cameras; good to go. I ring the doorbell, shifting my takeout bag.

Robert Miller opens the door. “Yes?”

“Dinner delivery.”

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong—”

I’ve already rushed inside the house with the door closed behind me before the professor can finish his sentence. Sitting the bag down on the entrance table next to a bicycle helmet, I sucker punch the man in the stomach.

He groans, falling to his knees.

My shoe connects with his face, and he tumbles over with a cry.

“Up,” I say, dragging him to the kitchen.

“Help!” he screams, and I slap a piece of tape over his mouth before punching him in the kidneys.

Professor Miller’s eyes snap shut in pain, and I drag the struggling man up the stairs, only to give him a good heave-ho back down. Hence the duct tape, because I knew he’d scream like a little bitch. He’s still screaming like a little bitch, it’s just coming out muffled as he bounces down the steps like a pinball.

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