Chapter 4: CASH

Four

CASH

T he second I walk into Hunter's place, I feel squeamish. Nothing wrong with the place. It's a nice condo in Santa Fe, it's just that Juliette's art makes me deeply uncomfortable. He calls out to me to come straight to the kitchen for the two of us to discuss business. Important business, according to him.

I'm just happy that I don't have to get involved in another one of Southpaw's gambling situations. The club needs money and we need clean money, so when Hunter calls me about an investment opportunity due to Wyatt's perpetual need for more cash, I jump at the opportunity.

I would much rather handle business with Hunter than with Wyatt. The man never met a game he wouldn't bet on. Part of you has to admire a man who has balls of steel. Another part of you has to wonder what kind of idiot is dumb enough to bet all the money they have on Little League games.

Since Hunter is sober, I bring my own liquor.

"Where is Juliette?" I ask him.

He rolls his eyes. "She's out with this friend of hers. Quin."

"She has time for friends with the baby?"

"That's what I said," Hunter grunts, sipping on a Dr. Pepper. "She's a pain in my ass. I need a distraction and there's a great opportunity coming up."

"Clean money?"

He nods. "Yes, sir. Clean money."

"Okay."

Doesn't make too much of a difference to me, but it's much easier to work a job laundering clean money right about now. Our family has been through enough recently without one of us heading off to prison. Cody has enough problems out in Dallas with the IRS up his ass for five years of allegedly underpaid taxes.

"I s'pose I could use a little cash," I tell Hunter.

He smirks. "None of y'all ever turn down an opportunity to make money."

"What have you got?"

He pulls out a binder of pretty legit looking documents. I glance through them, but it doesn't take me long to figure out what he wants us to get invested in.

"This might be legal, but it's goddamn dangerous, Hunter. And un-Christian."

"When the fuck was the last time you went to church?"

"My mama is going to make my life a living hell if I invest in a titty bar."

"It's not just a titty bar," Hunter says. "We're also gonna sell shrimp."

"What does your old lady think about that idea?" I ask him.

"She hates it," he says. "That's why I need you to run it."

I laugh. Hunter ought to get back to drinking if these are the brilliant thoughts he comes up with outside of liquor's influence.

"I'm not running a titty bar."

"Fine," Hunter says. "Then get some lazy ass Hollingsworth to come up here from Texas and run it for us. I don't give a shit. Fact of the matter is, I crunched the numbers and the last three around here… all the girls got deported."

Running a strip club is far too much work. Deportations mean potential border control involvement and other bullshit if anything goes wrong. We can find money elsewhere. Hunter gives me the most serious look. This ‘legal' business venture is already beginning to sound like far too much trouble.

"Is there a reason you want to get into this business?" I say.

"Why the fuck else?" He snaps. "Money."

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Yes, money. The Hollingsworth family has always had enough of it since investing in gas stations along the old Route 66 highway and our whiskey distillery that produces Hollingsworth whiskey and other products, not like that ever stopped any of us from looking for the opportunity for more. I just didn't think Hunter Sinclair was hurting for cash.

"Didn't think you needed any."

He gives me a dark look and then lowers his voice as if his old lady might pop out from around the corner at any minute.

"This is about Wyatt. We need $750,000 for the Rebel's but… I have personal matters to attend to. I need another $100k on top of that."

These motherfuckers spend money like it's going out of style and they don't have the head for figures to keep up with the expenses. The Sinclairs are at least a little better than the Shaws.

"A strip club isn't going to get you $100 grand quickly," I try to explain. These kinds of things take time.

Hunter's face darkens again. "I know."

"I see."

"You don't have to be involved in the other business."

"Drugs are risky," I respond, perfectly interpreting Hunter's insinuation. Running drugs out of your own club is the perfect combination of risky and smart, but it's the kind of business you can get away with in your twenties. I don't know if Hunter really wants to risk jail with his wife and baby at home.

"I know," he says, taking a sip of Dr. Pepper that looks almost wistful. "But Juliette's pregnant again. And she's having twins."

Fuck.

I don't have to say the cuss word out loud. My face says it all. That's the thing about being born red, you never get the privilege of hiding your emotions. My cheeks are always quick to match the color of my hair.

Hunter tries to hide his emotions, although I can see how complicated this is for him. Bringing twins into the world on top of Mackenzie might be tough if he keeps up the habit of bailing out Southpaw's stupid ass.

"What if we come up with a better idea?"

"A legal idea?"

"I said a better idea," I reply. "Not a legal one."

The apartment door opens and it's clear that Juliette is home. I can hear her talking from the doorway along with a baby babbling along in an attempt to match the rhythm and cadence of her mother's speech. Hunter presses a finger to his lips, but I don't need to be told to keep club business away from an old lady.

I rise to my feet out of politeness, and Juliette turns the corner, not just holding Mackenzie, but with a woman. Holy shit, look at the ass on that woman. And the tits. She's full-figured all right. The entire room fades around me, if I'm honest.

I just see this woman standing next to Juliette and become fixated with her instantaneously.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm Tanner."

Juliette steps between us. "Don't look at her. Don't talk to her."

That makes me want to look and talk to her even more… Unlike me, this gorgeous woman has some type of respect for Juliette's command. She doesn't look at me, doesn't give me a second glance and that lack of attention feels like a purposeful jab. What the hell is wrong with Juliette? While Quin looks away, I get a damn good look at her and experience no remorse for doing so.

Quin looks like she has a nice, tight pussy. Women that big usually do. There is something about a plus-sized woman who is somewhere in the super-plus-sized range that does it for me. Quin gets my dick hard instantly. I don't even mind that Juliette can tell.

" Hunter ," she says sternly. "Are you going to intervene or let him keep acting like a pervert?"

"Can you relax, Juliette? He's introducing himself."

That sexy ass chocolate cupcake with extra frosting steps aside from Juliette and I can tell immediately that everything about my appearance impresses her. That doesn't surprise me. I have meticulously built my body since I was sixteen-years-old.

I obsess over everything I eat and how I spend every minute of my day. I find a woman like this one… fasc inating. The race thing doesn't bother me. I know the rules. Screw black women, don't marry them. My father understood that sometimes a man has dark urges.

None of those urges are as dark as the ones that strike me in the presence of this voluptuous woman. I don't even care about her name. I just want her clothes off, my tongue in her pussy and my face squeezed between thick ass thighs.

"My name is Quin."

Juliette glares at me as I take Quin's hand. This is not the time for a normal handshake. I take her hand and kiss it. Fuck. She smells like an Oreo milkshake. I can't take my eyes off her, but her eyes dart away quickly.

"Okay, we're getting out of here," Juliette says, glaring at me. "Stay far away from the studio. We're discussing women's business."

Hunter gives her a look that I don't quite catch. Juliette ignores him and walks off with Quin in tow. Her friend moves a lot more slowly than Juliette. I can't tell if it's because she's less athletic, less angry, or because she wishes she could stay in the kitchen with me. I don't bother hiding the fact that I'm watching her ass as she walks away.

Once they're out of earshot, Hunter chastises me like he's some fucking priest.

"You don't have to stare at her like you want to eat her."

"I want to do a little more than eat her."

He scoffs. "That's what you think. That chick is seventy shades of fucked up."

"She must be what… three hundred pounds?"

"Who gives a fuck?" Hunter says, sipping on his soda. "We're here to talk business, not pussy."

"Can't talk business until I talk pussy."

He knows I have the upper hand here and he hates it.

"There's nothing to talk about. She spent the past year stuck in a bed. Juliette says she barely recognizes the chick."

"She's gorgeous."

"She's fucked up. Don't even think about it, Cash."

"Why not?"

Hunter looks around like someone might come popping out around the corner.

"For one thing, she's black."

"So is Juliette," I say in a normal speaking tone. I'm not afraid of shit.

"Yeah, but she's light and well… I don't care about that stuff. Your mama is gonna hit the roof if you show up with a woman like Quin to Thanksgiving."

"I'm not going to bring her to Thanksgiving. I'm going to stuff her like a Thanksgiving–"

"Please. Spare me."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing."

"You said she was fucked up."

"Oh. That. It's not important."

"Great. Then I can still sleep with her."

"She's Juliette's best friend, Tanner. So you can't."

I don't like Hunter's attitude. He used to be more of a go-getter.

"It's been at least a month since I've been with someone."

"That is a normal amount of time to be single."

"Not for me. Women crave my dick."

"Fuck, listen. I don't care what the fuck you do. But if you touch her and Juliette asks me to put a bullet in your head, I'm gonna listen to my old lady without question."

"Okay. We can talk business now that I have your explicit permission."

"Not what the fuck happened."

I have to calm him down. Hunter doesn't stand a chance of stopping me once I set my mind on something and it will be best for both of us if we don't argue about the chocolate cupcake his old lady just dragged into the back room.

I'll be back for her later.