Longing: Club Inferno Read Free

insults like she was Michelangelo—Anya’s skin was as thick as Istvahn’s head.
    “Yeah, I know,” Colleen said, slamming her hand down on her desk. “I lost a bet.”
    “Huh?”
    “Never mind. The least they could do was hook up, but no. It’s back to business as usual, which normally I’d be fine with. But they’re both so unhappy. I can’t get Nefertiti to tell me what’s going on. Maybe you’ll have better luck?”
    “I’ll bug her about it. So what staff are we developing this Friday?”
    “The Couture staff.”
    “Both sides?”
    “Almost everyone is working on both sides now. The weekly staff events are a way to unwind and let down our hair. It’s hard to watch all that humping going on all around you and not get involved.”
    Anya didn’t find it hard. She actually found it very sweet and sexy, just not for her. Maybe she was used to holding herself apart since Cesare shattered her heart into little pieces. Watching was safe. You didn’t get hurt and you risked nothing. Still, a little part of her missed the excitement.
    “So this is our reward for being so good during the week?” Anya said.
    “Speak for yourself. I try never to be just good.”
    “Ain’t that the truth. So what’s the theme?”
    “Rock and roll. I booked Switchblade in the arena next week. All the proceeds go to Mallory’s shelter.”
    Colleen’s sister ran a battered women’s shelter in the worst part of the city—it had all of the gangs and none of the hospitals. Colleen financed it, which made Anya quip that “urban renewal” wasn’t just for hipster clothes anymore.
    “Didn’t the last event you ran turn bloody?” Anya said. A few months ago, Couture had branched out to host a mixed martial arts fight. It was another charity event, but Colleen thought she could take some events away from the local casinos if the MMA program worked out. It had been a disaster. The fight promoter had been a mole and brought in a bloodthirsty crowd. He told the fighters that if they ever wanted to work again, they’d go all out. Two fighters had career-ending injuries. Colleen paid their entire medical expenses and told them if they wanted they would have a job with one of her companies when they healed.
    “I’ve learned my lesson,” Colleen said. “I’m promoting this on my own with Switchblade. No more going outside. I used to provide a catering service to the band. They owe me.”
    “I didn’t know you were in food services.”
    “I wasn’t.” Colleen smiled.
    Yeah, before she married Alfie and for a brief time afterward, Colleen had tried her hand at running an escort service. Her girls had class and the drive to become rich widows themselves. But it had all ended in tears when a near brush with the law put Colleen on the straight and narrow.
    “All right, I suppose I can let my rock-and-roll roots show,” Anya said. She needed something to shake her out of this funk. She had a line on getting a part in an off-Broadway play. So what if she had to lose weight? Actresses did it all the time. Anya straightened up, feeling a little better. She would do an all-fruit cleanse and exercise. Maybe buy industrial-strength Spanx. She would wow the director and producer with her grace and charm. And if all else failed, she’d flash her boobs. That had gotten her out of more than one tight spot. “Did I ever tell you my mom was a singer in a punk rock band?”
    “Nope.” Colleen tanked the rest of her soda and burped daintily behind her hand.
    “They called themselves Persephone Rising.”
    “Were they any good?” She tossed the can to Anya, who did an over-the-arm hook shot into the trash can across the room.
    “Have you ever heard of them?” Anya countered, throwing her hands up in victory at the three-point shot.
    Colleen shrugged. “There are a lot of good bands I’ve never heard of.”
    “Name one.”
    “Get out of my office,” Colleen said, pointing with her pencil.

Chapter Two
    Six A.M . was damned