Roxy (Pandemic Sorrow #3) by Stevie J. Cole Read Free Book Online

ears just before everything went black.
    I lowered my shirt back down, forcing myself to stop that memory.
    I’d almost died.
    Had that metal pierced me a few centimeters to the left, it would have severed my aortic artery.
    When I’d woken up in the hospital Layla was the only person there. That was the last person I had, and I saw how hurt she was. I couldn’t leave her.
    That was when I made the decision to just cut everyone else out.
    I couldn’t numb myself with drugs, but I could make myself numb to others.
    Half of the people I knew were lowlifes anyway, but regardless, I just didn’t need anyone in my life. At least that’s what I told myself—but deep down inside, I knew it was a lie.
    I didn’t want to be alone. I just couldn’t handle any more hurt, any more lies, any more broken promises. And it seemed like that’s all anyone had to offer me.

Chapter 7
    That next weekend I had almost forgotten about that concert, almost . Unfortunately, when I got to work that Saturday, the entire bar staff was chattering and giggling about the new VIP guests we had added to our list. Pandemic Sorrow had decided they needed a new venue to hang out at. They wanted a new club to piss on and mark as theirs, and, much to my horror, they had picked The Club.
    “Now, I expect all of you to behave, which means I better not find any of you girls pinned up in the bathroom with them—” Carlos, our manager, narrowed his eyes on Tess, who was waving her arm around. “What, Tess?”
    “So, just not the bathroom? So, under tables, behind the bar, or in your office is totally acceptable?” She counted off the places on her fingers.
    Carlos slapped his hand over his forehead and groaned.
    “Hey,” Tess shrugged, “I’m just trying to get my game plan together.”
    “You can’t fuck at work. This isn’t the Pink Pony Ranch. Just be professional, that’s all I’m asking. Don’t let them pay for anything. Give them whatever they want,” he glanced back at Tess, arching a brow, “except sex in this club.”
    Carlos got up from the bar and made his way back to his office. The rest of the staff broke up, blabbering about how exciting it was to have Pandemic Sorrow choose us as their place to load up on booze and drugs.
    This is great. Really great. What if he remembers what a bitch I was to him? I mean, that obviously had an effect on him. I think it made him a little angry after he got over the initial shock. Shit, he is going to make my life hell if he recognizes me.
    The night went on as usual. Martinis, beers, vodka tonics. Surfer guys, preppy guys, models, tourists, a ton of bleached-blonde girls with hot pink lipstick.
    It was midnight, and I was relieved that I hadn’t had my night disrupted yet.
    I grabbed three beers from the cooler, popping the tops of each before setting them down on the bar.
    “You’re pretty.” The guy tried to reach across the counter to swat at my hair, but I dodged him and he slumped down over the bar top.
    I had heard those words slurred a thousand times. They held no meaning besides the guy had been shot down by every other girl he’d hit on, and now he thought maybe a bartender would be a little easier.
    “Thanks.” I smiled and wiped my damp hands on my apron. “What was the name on the tab?”
    He looked up from the counter and hiccupped. “DeBoise.”
    I nodded.
    “What time do you get off?” His eyes were glassy and slightly crossing from the beer they were swimming in.
    A disbelieving laugh fought its way from my tightened smile and I shook my head. “Not interested. Thanks, though.”
    I peered around him and pointed to a group of girls sitting at a table. “There are five girls over there. Chances are you can talk one of them into going home with you.”
    He jerked his beers up, grumbling to himself and staggering off into the crowd.
    I was in the middle of pouring several tequila shots when I heard a screech, followed by the name “Roxanne” being belted out to what