“I’ll take you shopping after the shift ends,” Claire said. “You’ll make more with something else. It’ll have to do for today.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “How naked do you get for the lap dances?”
“On the main floor, keep your bra on,” Claire said. “We do full contact here, but if they want your boobs they can buy a room. You take a waitress with you . . . Oh fuck.”
“What?” I asked anxiously.
“We don’t have enough waitresses.” She frowned at me. “Okay, here’s the situation. You’re not supposed to go into a room without a waitress. They bring the drinks, but they’re also in there to keep an eye on you, make sure you stay safe. Sometimes guys don’t listen to the rules, you know? The waitress can get a bouncer for you . . . Except today we only have two, which means you’ll be on your own.”
“I guess we’ll just have to let the security guys know they should stay close,” Venus said. “If we need them, we can always scream.”
“I want to go back to The Line,” Claire announced. “This is fucking ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come over here. They give all the good shifts to the Vegas dancers anyway.”
A man stuck his head in.
“You’re on in two minutes,” he told her, then disappeared again.
“That’s Trey. He does the music and announcements,” Claire explained. “Okay, let’s get out there. If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask. There’s hardly anyone in the club right now, but we should have more at noon. Lots of guys come over from the tech park on their lunch breaks for a quickie.”
“Quickie?” I asked.
“Whatever happens in the champagne room is up to you,” Claire said, winking. “Just remember, the house gets a cut. Lisa—she’s another dancer—held out on them and someone beat her up in the parking lot. You figure it out.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Okay, let’s go.”
—
It’s one thing to bravely determine you’ll make enough money to fund a road-trip-slash-killing-spree by selling lap dances. It’s another to actually do it. Close to fifteen men were in the club now. I knew they had money and that I wanted to get the money from them. I even knew what to do to them to make it happen. I just wasn’t sure how to get started.
“Walk over and ask him if he wants a dance,” the friendly waitress said, coming to stand next to me. “Look at that guy in the corner. He’s just been sitting there for half an hour. I’m sure he’d buy a dance from you—he’s hardly even watching the stage, which means he’s here for something else. He’s a big tipper, too. Gotta love that in a man.”
She nodded toward a figure sitting in the shadows.
“Okay, I can do this,” I said, then started walking toward him. They really needed better lighting in here, I decided. Dim light might be a stripper’s friend, but this particular corner was like a black hole.
I glanced at the ceiling and realized the bulb was out—that’s why I couldn’t really see him until it was too late.
“Hi, would you like to buy a dance?” I asked. A hand shot out, catching my wrist. “Hey, you can’t do that . . .”
My words trailed off as he leaned forward. Oh fuck. Then he stood up and I decided I must’ve done something truly horrible in a past life. It was Painter. The same Painter who’d dragged an unwilling woman out of the clubhouse last night.
Worst. Luck. Ever.
“Let’s go to the champagne room,” he said in a low, menacing growl.
“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I replied, trying to back away. He didn’t give an inch, something dark and predatory in his gaze. I’d seen that look before. On Puck. Painter was hunting. I needed to get the hell out of here. Immediately.
“I’ve made a mistake,” I babbled. “I’ll leave now. You can tell Puck I’m going home. He can talk to me there.”
“Too late,” he said. “Champagne room. Now. Get your ass in there.”
My chest tightened.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked, my voice a whisper.
“We got a problem?” a man asked. I looked up to see Crouse looming over us. Painter’s hand tightened, and I considered saying yes. Then he’d fight with Crouse and I’d have a chance to get away. There must be a thousand strip clubs between here and California—I’d go to one of those instead.
Yeah. Perfect solution.
I’d just opened my mouth when someone caught my eye. Behind the bouncer.
Demon.
Oh double fuck, I thought. Everything fell together in my head. The meet last night. Puck having “shit to do” all day. The clubs were up to something and if two of the brothers were in here right now, odds were good that I’d found myself right in the middle of it.
The Vegas Belles had opened up right down the street from The Line . . . This was bad. Real bad.
“Everything is okay,” I squeaked. “He’s an old friend—I was just startled to see him here. We’re going to the champagne room now.”
With that I grabbed his hand and started dragging Painter across the room toward the hallway housing the champagne rooms. Along the way I saw one, two . . . three other men from the clubhouse. None of them wearing their colors.
Definitely a major operation. Painter followed me, his face grim, as Crouse opened up the last door on the right for us.
“You need a waitress,” the big man told me.