Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
I groan, scooping mine up, too. "You aren't getting me drunk tonight, baby sister."
"We'll see about that," she says, smirking.
"I'm serious! I have to be at the studio early."
Mischief dances in her hazel eyes. "Then you better drink your weight in water because you're about to drink it in vodka." She bats her lashes at me. "Now, drink."
I scowl at her, tipping the shot back. It burns down my throat, making me shiver. Zoya doesn't even flinch as she downs hers.
"Gah!" I shudder, slamming my glass down on the bar. "I don't know how you and Dad drink this!"
"It's not that bad."
"It's awful."
"Don't let him hear you say that," she says, giggling. "You can insult Russia all you want in front of him, but never let him hear you insult their vodka."
I laugh quietly at her accurate assessment. I think his only loyalty to the country that birthed him is the vodka. Everything else just rolls off his back, but God forbid if you insult the vodka. That, he takes personally.
"How are he and Mom doing?"
"Fine." She rolls her eyes. "He's driving her crazy like usual. I don't know what possessed him to retire. He's terrible at it. He just follows her around, annoying her all day. Your He-Man will do that for you, kisa. Kisa, come, let me do that. She said if he doesn't find a hobby soon, she's going to strangle him."
"Taking care of her is his hobby."
"No, that's his purpose," Zoya says, motioning for the bartender. "Chasing her around is his hobby."
I giggle because she's not wrong.
"Hey, ladies."
I glance over my shoulder, biting back a groan as a man with bloodshot green eyes and a wrinkled suit steps a little too close for comfort, two of his friends trailing behind him. The smell of alcohol and too much cologne practically hangs in the air around him.
"Heard you up on stage," he says, smirking at me. "You've got pipes."
"Thanks," I mutter, unease drifting through me. It's the way he looks at me like I'm a prize to win. He isn't complimenting me because he means it. He says it because he thinks it'll get him what he wants. I can practically see the impatience in his eyes as he steps closer, crowding me on the barstool.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"Thank you, but no." I smile politely and lean away from him. "I've already ordered one, and that's my limit."
"Ah, come on," he tries to cajole, leaning down over me. Jesus. How much cologne did he douse himself with tonight? "You entertained us for the last hour. It's our turn to entertain you."
"How?" Zoya asks, a bite to the question that tells me she's as annoyed by him as I am. "Are you going to dance for us? Stand on your head? Juggle?"
He flicks his gaze in her direction and then back to me, his smirk growing as his gaze flicks up and down my body, lingering on my tits. "Oh, I can think of a few ways."
His friends snicker.
Oh. Gross.
"Yeah, no thanks," I mutter. "I'm not interested."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not. I wasn't aware I needed to explain myself to you." I narrow my eyes on him, my temper flaring. "I know this might not register in your current state, but no is a complete sentence."
"So is watch your fucking mouth, you fat bitch," he snaps, immediately flipping from trying to be charming to insults and threats. Typical. Guys like him never handle rejection well, especially from girls my size.
Two minutes ago, I was just the right size. Now, I'm not good enough because of my weight, simply because he can't handle the word "no." It's a tale as old as time for women, even ones like me who have our faces splashed everywhere.
When we see through the fake charm and gross innuendo, they immediately slide to the threatening end of the spectrum. It's never their fault that they've been rejected. It's always a failing with us. They never wanted us anyway. They were just trying to be nice. And we're bitches. We're stuck up. We're rude. We're whatever it takes to keep them from looking in the mirror and doing a hard assessment.
Guys like him are everywhere. Doesn't matter how famous you are. It doesn't protect you. They still think you owe them your time, your attention, a smile, and whatever else they're after, simply because you're female and they asked. And if you're plus-size? Well, as far as they're concerned, you should be on your knees, thanking your lucky stars they even deigned to speak to you.
It's exhausting.
"I suggest you get out of her face before we call her security team over," Zoya lies calmly. I don't have security. I never do at small shows like this. Maybe I should because this happens a little too often these days. "The three of you look like you've been drinking all night. I doubt you'd last a single round."