Sin City Uniform 02 - Copping an Attitude Read Free

eyes. “I just couldn’t seem to get my game on.”
    Valeena reached over and clasped his hand. “Fucking prick. I’d help you out, but I barely made enough myself tonight.”
    He placed his other hand on top of hers. “That’s okay.”
    More than once one of them had helped to cover for the other if their take was way off balance.
    The front door of the house slammed open and they both jumped. Valeena let go of Slade’s hand as Julio burst in.
    “Get out, bitch.” He fixed his black, steely gaze on Slade as he yanked Valeena off the bed.
    “Slade got roughed up by one of his dates tonight, he—”
    Julio shook her. “Let me guess, Harold?”
    Valeena’s eyes went wide.
    Julio shoved her toward the entrance of the room. “If I want your opinion, cunt, I’ll fuck it out of you.”
    As soon as Julio faced Slade again, Slade saw Valeena flip Julio off behind the enraged pimp’s back as she stomped out. He averted his gaze, terrified that Julio might catch her. Slade had encountered countless moments with Julio when the man was angry or upset, but the way he was currently behaving was even more terrifying than he could ever remember witnessing before.
    Julio advanced toward him and grabbed his jaw, squeezing hard enough that Slade’s lips pursed out, hurting him.
    “What did you say to him, you little fuck? Huh? What gave him the idea that the two of you were gonna run off into the sunset together?”
    Julio thrust him away in seeming disgust and Slade fell back on the bed. The way Julio paced frantically in small circles on the area rug did nothing to reassure Slade that he was out of harm’s way yet. His would-be boss was obviously tweaking.
    “Five grand.” Julio threw his hands in the air. “Is he out of his fucking mind?”
    One of Julio’s rants had begun. When he got like that, he didn’t want answers. Didn’t want comments. All he required was a captive and frightened audience. As Julio shook his hands out, twitched his head repeatedly and kept marching about the room, Slade slid back, scooted farther away. It was pointless to do such a thing—his logical mind told him that. But he still wanted the illusion of distance. Of safety.
    “If I were gonna sell you to someone, I’d make real bank. Fuck. It’s tempting too. You’re still pretty young. I bet I could get a hundred grand for you easy from someone overseas.”
    Oh Jesus. Oh fuck.
    “Maybe more, I dunno. Never done it before, but I met a guy last month, some foreign fucker who knew about that kinda shit.” Julio snorted. “I should quit with this pussy street shit and get in with some real homies. Guys who know how to make fat stacks.”
    Julio paused in his frenetic pacing and narrowed his eyes at Slade. “Is that how you went out tonight? Like that?”
    He shook his head wildly, suddenly unable to push air out of his lungs to speak.
    “Well?”
    “Um…” He cleared his throat, his heart hammering. “I… I showered when I came back then changed.”
    Julio sneered at him. “I hope you didn’t have that baggy T-shirt on. Where are my clothes? Huh? I better not fucking find them in a pile on the floor somewhere. I paid a lot for that shit.”
    Yeah. Out of the money I earned.
    Julio continued to pace, but his agitated mutterings seemed to be for Julio’s own benefit. Like the good little slave he was, he’d carefully hung up his tight, fake leather pants with the cutaways laced together at his outer thighs. His one of many black form-fitting tanks decorated with either rhinestones or studs had been set aside for him to hand wash later that day. The one he’d worn the night before was one of Harold’s favorites—it had a neon pink skull outlined with the sparkling fake jewels. He felt like an idiot wearing those clothes, but it had all been a part of the image Julio had created for him. Part emo kid, part twink, part bad boy. Even his street name had been Julio’s doing. He’d stolen the moniker of a character Slade had