Breaking the Rules Read Free Page A

needs to get her ass down to the Vet Center,” Mick said in his gravelly, native New Yorker’s voice, without proper greeting or ceremony. “ASAP.”
    “She’s upstate, but I’m already on my way,” Jenn told him.
    “Hail a cab,” he told her. “And Mary, while you’re at it. You’re definitely gonna need divine intervention for this one.”
    She stopped, directly in front of a display of L’eggs. They had both her size and the color she’d hoped to find. Alleluia. “What’s going on?”
    “About seven of the vets have broken the lock on the door,” Mick told her grimly as she grabbed a pair and headed for the checkout, up front. “They’ve gone inside, with several crates of supplies. I think they’re going to lock themselves in until they get some action. We’ve been ordered to get them out, forcibly if necessary, but I’ve convinced the lieutenant to give you a chance to get down here and defuse the situation, but the clock’s ticking. Jenn, seriously, you need to be here. Now.”
    “I’m on my way.” There were seven people on line and one slow-moving, half-asleep cashier, so Jenn sighed and put the pantyhose in a clearly designated dump basket near the exit before going out to the street and hailing a cab.
L AS V EGAS
    Eden Gillman Zanella stood in the shadows of the shallow wing, just offstage, and tried to calm her pounding heart.
    This was no big deal.
    She just had to walk out there and do this exactly the way she’d practiced. If she got this job, she’d be bringing home somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred dollars a night in tips.
    And even though working at the Burger King for minimum wage was more dignified, it would take her months to earn the same kind of money that she could make here in a week.
    Dignity was overrated, anyway.
    And the female body was just that—the female body. Yes, she’d be the first to agree that hers was exceptionally nice-looking. She couldn’t take any credit for that—it was an accident of birth.
    True, she’d worked it, hard, to get back to her pre-pregnancy weight, even in the aftermath of losing her baby. And she’d had to get a tattoo to hide the scar from the C-section that had saved her life.
    But she’d had a beautiful mother and a drop-dead handsome father, which didn’t necessarily mean Eden had to be exceptionally beautiful. But luck had been on her side, and she was.
    She had a classically beautiful face, with even features, big brown eyes and long, dark lashes. Her skin was smooth and clear, and she had thick, dark, shiny hair that fell halfway down her back.
    Of course, while a pretty face and great hair were valuable assets, they weren’t as important as the body she’d won in the genetics lottery. Tits and ass. It always came down to that bottom line, at least for men. And hers were world class—they had been ever since puberty hit.
    And after years of getting leered at wherever she went, she was now on the verge of getting
paid
for the very same thing.
    Mostly the same thing.
    The song that had been playing—some generic 1970s disco—finally faded out and there was a smattering of applause from the crowd of losers and lowlifes who were out there getting wasted on a Thursday morning at eight o’clock.
    The woman—billed as Chestee von Schnaps—who’d been on that stage came stomping off in disgust. “Four fucking dollars,” she said, tono one in particular. “The morning shift is bullshit.” She stopped to put a finger practically up Eden’s nose, oblivious to the fact that she was still mostly naked, with breasts that were nearly the size of basketballs. “You—new girl. Make sure that cocksucker Alan gives you breakfast. You work this bullshit shift, you make sure you at least get fed, you hear me?”
    Were those things real?
    “You hear me?” the woman repeated, and Eden nodded, even though Alan hadn’t said a thing about meals. This was not a woman with whom anyone would dare to disagree.
    “I’m Nic.