G-Men: The Series by Andrea Smith Page B

room.”
    “My God, Becky. I had no clue.”
    “So you see what I’m saying though, right? With some girls, going out with bad boys is like… . . . a rite of passage. You never got yours, Sam. I’m just saying it’s ludicrous to think that I would’ve ever married one of those idiots. It was just a phase.”
    “So, you think my attraction to Slate is my postponed bad-boy rite-of-passage phase?”
    “I think so, Sam, but it’s something that you’ll likely need to do in order to get it out of your system.”
    “Then you wouldn’t like disown me as a BFF if I did?” I couldn’t believe that I was even considering it. I’d never considered cheating on Jack. Ever. I mean I was certain that Jack was cheating now with Susan; and maybe he had in the past as well, but still two wrongs and all that jazz didn’t give me a free pass. Still - there was just something about . . . Slate.
    “Honey, you don’t need my permission to fuck some young bad-boy. I’m just saying you need to be careful. He comes from a whole different world than my college bad-boys.”

chapter 14
    I felt like a giddy teenager as I prepared for my Tuesday shift at the club. I took extra care with my waxing for my first night back since Jack had hit the road again.
    I packed another new dance outfit in my garment bag for tonight. It was a silver-sequined cutout, one-piece monokini swimsuit. The cutout was in front and the sparkly material only covered the barest of necessities.
    I’d been getting Brazilian waxes over the past month. That was one reason I was glad Jack hadn’t wanted sex. He definitely would’ve wondered about my baldness down there, not that he ever really looked at what he fucked.
    Jack had never cared for being the provider of oral sex. He enjoyed the recipient role only. He was a taker and always had been. Tonight, I was in the mood for both.
    Margo was happy to see me back. She said that no one knew why I hadn’t been in last week. That was her way of prying it out of me. I simply told her I needed a break to take care of some personal business. She fussed over my hair and make-up; styling my long-tressed wig into an exotic bunch of loose curls that framed my face. She added matching extensions to it, so it went down nearly to my waist.
    I got into my 4-inch spiked heels and added my silver grip gloves that were attached to wrist cuffs.
    “Has Slate been in?”
    “Yep. I saw him in last Friday with that wild bunch. He was sitting with Slash, that fucking dirtball.”
    “Slate?”
    “No, Slash. I hate that mother-fucker for what he is and does. Don’t get me started on that fuckin’ pill pusher.”
    I honored her request. It wasn’t often I saw Margo get that steamed up about someone.
    Opal came in just then. “You’re up, Diamond.”
    “Thanks,” I said, handing Margo her money. “See you in a few.”
    My first dance was dancer’s choice for the music. I’d told Kevin I wanted “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” by John Mayer for my first dance. It was a slow, sensual song. I loved the lyrics. It was my message to Slate. I prayed that my bad boy was out there. I heard the first chords to the song start as I slipped onto the stage.
    There he was, sitting along the side of the stage where my dance was being performed. There were four or five others with him, all in the signature leather jackets and colors of OMC. He did a double-take when Kevin announced me as I walked out. Whoever was sitting next to him let out a low growl as I danced seductively for Slate. His face darkened. He was pissed. Even from where I was, I could see the muscle in his cheek twitch.
    Oh, shit…
    I didn’t take my eyes from Slate. Even when his buddy tossed several bills on the floor in front of me, ordering me to bend down and pick them up, I kept my eyes on him.
    Typically, the money was put in a large glass jar on the side. This biker asshole was trying to make a point. I wasn’t going for it. It wasn’t about the money for me;