Manwhore 2: The Ferro Family Read Online Free Page B

treated to more. I drink him until there’s nothing left.
    When I stand, I notice the way he’s hanging in the chains. His shoulders are slumped like he’s defeated. It’s only temporary, though, because as soon as I unchain him, he’ll find out that this high is perfect.
    Before we have a chance to find out, there’s the sound of a lock beeping. The door to the hallway is thrown open, and Gabe is standing there with Claire. She squeaks. “I’m sorry, Paige. I thought you were in trouble when you didn’t show up on stage.”
    Gabe looks pissed. “This is not what Club Noir is about. The owner is going to skin you.”
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    THE ARRANGEMENT
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    THE ARRANGEMENT
    Chapter 1
    T HE NIGHT AIR IS FRIGID . It doesn’t help that I’m stuck wearing this little black dress in my crap car. I shiver as I try to keep the engine running at a red light. My little battered car is from two decades ago and stalls if I don’t rev the engine while I have my foot on the brake. I’m driving with two feet, in a car that’s supposed to be an automatic. The heater doesn’t work. If I try to turn it on, I’ll get my face blasted with white smoke. It’s awesome, in an utterly humbling kind of way. At least the car is mine. It gets me where I need to go, most of the time.
    The light flips to green and I botch it. I don’t gas the car enough and it shudders and stalls. I grumble and grab for the can of ether. The cars behind me blare their horns.
    I ignore them. They can go around me. I grab the can on the seat next to me, kick open my door, and walk around to the hood. I shake the can and spray it into the engine intake. The car will start up as soon as I turn the key now, and I can drive away in shame.
    The night air is crisp and filled with exhaust. This road is always busy. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is. Angry drivers move around me. Everyone is always in a hurry. It’s part of the New York frame of mind. I’m treated to a catcall as a car full of guys blows past me. I flip them the bird and hear their laughter echo as they fade from sight.
    Tonight couldn’t possibly get any worse. I put the cap on the can of ether. Then it happens. My night takes a one-eighty straight into suckage.
    As I drop the hood, it slams shut, and I look through the windshield. “Seriously?” I say at the guy who jumps in my seat. He’s wearing a once-blue fluffy coat and hasn’t shaved for weeks. He turns the key and my crappy car roars to life. He gasses it and takes off, swerving around me. I stand in the lane staring after him. What a moron. Who’d steal that piece of trash?
    Still, it’s my car and I need it. After the night I had, I don’t want to run after him, but I have to. I need that car. I take off at a full run. My lungs start to burn as I suck in frozen air and exhaust. I run down the shoulder, avoiding trash that’s laying in the gutter. My attention is singularly focused on my car. I push my body harder and feel my muscles protest, but I don’t hold back. He’s getting away.
    I manage to run a block when a guy on a motorcycle slows next to me. “That guy stole your car.” He sounds shocked.
    I can’t see his face through the black helmet. It has a tinted visor that covers his face. “No shit, Sherlock,” I huff and keep running. My purse is in the car, my only pair of work-acceptable heels, my books--awh, fuck--my books. I paid over a grand for those. They’re worth more than the car. I run faster. My dress flares around my thighs as my Chucks help me sprint forward. My body doesn’t want to do it. The stitch in my side feels like it’s going to bust open.
    The guy on the bike is annoying. He rolls next to me and flips up his face shield. I glance at him,