Entice:The Evolve Series, Book Three(2)

By: S.E. Hall

And lastly, she loves this song. She’s mouthing the words, keeping her eyes unfocused and on the back wall, dying for everything but the song itself to be over. And when it is, she runs like she’s on fire for cover behind the curtain.

“Who was that?” I ask Dracula Nails, still standing beside me.

“New girl,” she answers snidely. “First night, can’t you tell?” she laughs.

“Yeah, I can.”

“So, I’ll see you later?” she curls those inflated lips at me.

“Maybe. If I see ya I see ya.” I get up, walking over to Dane. “Where’d you get these girls?”

“Hell if I know; Brock hooked it up.”

“So the company, it’s local to us, like in Statesboro?”

“I think so, why?”

“Find out for sure. I’m gonna hit the can. Be right back.”

I really do need to take a leak, but somehow I veer off course, peering behind the curtain like the Great and Powerful Oz will be waiting to hand me the 411 on this girl. I don’t see him, or her, only several other scantily clad women who only remind me how different she was. I want to bust in a demand they tell me her name and where she is, but I’m forced to duck out and shove the curtain back when their escort/bodyguard/whatever guy spots me.

No worries, Dane can find out for me, that man has scary ways of digging up the buried. I hurry back from the bathroom and catch him just as he’s hanging up his phone. “Well?”

“Local company, kinda off the radar, Brock isn’t sure they’re on the Better Business Bureau, if you catch my drift.”

“I don’t.”

He leans into me, talking low and discreetly. “I know nothing, and I’m going to say this, walk out of here and never speak of it again. I may also fire Brock for being a dumbass. It’s some on the side thing for one guy, mostly underage college girls needing money.”

“Fuck,” I mumble.

“Fuck is right. My name is never to be associated with this, ever. I had no idea and I’ll kill Brock if he jeopardized any of us in any way. You hear me?”

“Wait, so college, as in our college?”

“Yes,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair, mad as hell.

“My old job ready at The K?” Wait, better yet… “I’ll replace Brock even.”

“You always have a job with me, Sawyer, you know that. Just say the word.”

“Word. I’m heading back early. Don’t fire Brock until I say, okay? I need to talk to him first.”

“You just fire him when you have what you need. My hands are washed of this whole thing. Now get the fuck out of here and pay for the party in cash. No paper, you hear me, Sawyer?”

“Got it. Go, man.”

Look out, Skipper, Daddy’s coming home.


Sleepless In Statesboro


“Why are we here again?” Zach questions me, looking around.

“Put your pussy back in your pocket and shut the fuck up.”

Since all my boys keep getting lost in the Bermuda Bush—as in they dive into her bush once and I never see them again—I’ve nominated Zach, the only single one left, as my new partner in crime. Though if he doesn’t quit his fucking whining, I’ll go solo.

I’m a man on a mission; there’s no time for bellyaching. After spending the last few weeks scouring every club within fifty miles of school, in all directions, my patience is wearing thin…and I’ve run out of clubs. If this isn’t the one, and I’m guessing this isn’t the one, I’m out of brilliants ideas. All Brock had to do was take Dane’s money and throw together a bachelor party for Parker. No one even said send dancers, but he did anyway, and because he can’t get ahold of the shady fuck he did business with, I’m plagued by the image of a girl who’s proving to be more elusive than Bigfoot.

“I don’t think this is a strip club, bro. Look.” Zach nudges my shoulder and points to a small stage with a wall of chicken wire wrapped around it and several different colors of broken glass littering the surface.

The flashing sign outside says Unbuckled—how is it not a strip club? Disappointed doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel watching Meemaw and Peepaw slow dance amongst the peanut shells on the floor. I’m not sure if I should sue for false advertising or thank God they’re not going to actually unbuckle anything.

“Come on.” Zach gives me a slap on the shoulder, his face not hiding his pity. He knows this was it—the last place on the list. “Let me at least buy ya a beer.”

Since there’s nothing better to do and we’re already here, I accept his offer and we grab two stools at the bar. Zach orders our drink and within minutes we’re approached by two girls who are way below Social Security eligibility, so I’m more than a little surprised they’re here.

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