by Lory Wendy
The stranger at the bar sits up a little straighter once he notices me. His grin transforms from creepy leer to a reigned-in and polite smile within a millisecond.
My guard goes up. Something about him unsettles my stomach and I struggle. Where have I seen him before? I hesitate for a second before I approach him fully, keeping a small distance away from him. “Hi. Can I help you with something?”
“Selena, right?”
“Do I know you?” I ask, scanning the crowd. Behind him, one of the bouncers locks eyes with me and takes a step forward. I’m okay, I mouth to him, shaking my head, relieved that he’s lurking around at least.
“I’m Pierce. I’m a friend of your sister’s.”
“Right.” I nod, recognizing the name. The tension barely lifts. I’d forgotten all about him—never even spoke to him despite Blaire’s insistence—and now he just shows up at my job? “So, is there something I can help you with?”
“No, no I don’t really need anything.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.
I tap my foot and look around. He’s weird.
“I’ve just been anxious to meet you,” Pierce continues. “And since you always seem too busy working, I finally called up Blaire and demanded to know where and how I could finally meet you for myself.” He has a proud look on his face, but his quick explanation does little to make me swoon—the reaction I assume he‘s going for.
“And when you heard I worked at Lotus, you didn’t stop to think what it would be like to meet me for the first time at a strip club?”
“Well, Blaire made it a point to let me know you weren’t a dancer so...” He laughs.
I don’t.
“Not that it would matter.” His voice drops and one eye opens wider than the other as he makes a silly face.
“Right.” I offer him my first real smile, agreeing with his comment. “I’m sorry. I tend to come off as a bitch the first time you meet me.”
“No, I get it. I did kind of catch you off guard, showing up here like this.” He looks over my shoulder, and in that split second, his demeanor changes. His body stiffens, and his hands ball into fists. “I guess I should let you get back to work, huh?”
I glance back but see nothing, and when I face Pierce again, his eyes are soft, but the smile he gives me is forced.
“Are you okay?” I can’t help but ask. He might be cute, but he’s also kind of strange. He doesn’t seem to be able to decide on being at ease or uncomfortable here, and I was just starting to warm up to him.
“I’m perfect. Sorry, I guess I’m a little distracted. Do you think I can have your number so I can call you later?”
“I don’t know.” I scrunch up my nose. I might have warmed up to him, but only a little bit.
“Cautious.” He nods. “Smart.”
I look around the room, as does he, neither one of us knowing what to do about the awkward silence.
“So, I should probably get back to work,” I say at the same time he says, “So, I guess I’ll see you later?”
“Are you coming back tonight to see Miracle?” I decided to throw him a bone.
I don’t know much about the girl who’ll be here hosting tonight. She’s not a regular dancer, just someone they invited for the night to make an appearance—an online model turned small screen actress, turned celebrity stripper or something like that. I’d never heard of her. But the buzz about it makes her seem like a big deal.
“You should come.” I take a small step closer to Pierce. Special events mean more people, which means more money in my pocket. And since I feel bad for coming off like a raging bitch, and I’m not in the mood to hear the lecture Blaire will no doubt have waiting for me about being nicer to people, I push the issue a little further. “It doesn’t seem like much now” —I wave a hand, gesturing around the empty club— “but this place gets really nice when everyone’s here. And if you’re not into the whole naked-chicks thing, there’s always upstairs where they play cards, hang out, and smoke cigars. That kind of fancy stuff.”
“That’s kind of an invitation-only type thing.”
“How do you know?”
“Just do.”
“Care to elaborate?” I take another step. At this point, I’m so close to him, my head is tipped back in my attempt to maintain eye contact. “Have you been here—”
“You should get to work,” he cuts me off, but this time his focus remains over my shoulder.
I don’t turn around. I don’t need to. I know who’s looking at him. Here, the bouncers and security care—they notice everything. Even when you think they’re not watching, they pop up out of nowhere ready to save the day.
“Okay.” I put distance between us and cross my arms over my chest again. “I guess I’ll just see you around then. Have a good night.”
“Selena?”
“What?” This whole encounter’s been weird. I’m ready for it to be over.
“It was great meeting you.”
He walks away and out through the front doors before I can reply.
The night's almost winding down when I hear the DJ announcing our special guest’s name, again. The crowd goes crazy—me included—hooting, hollering, and whistling when Miracle starts her little strut around the stage for her encore performance. She’d done a few tricks, all of which have amazed me. The day-to-day girls could learn a thing or two from her. I hope they’re around here taking notes, not stalking off to the corner hating on her for stealing the show tonight.
“I didn’t know you knew Pierce.”
“Huh?” I look over and up at Rocky from where I thought I was hiding in the corner of the club. “What?"
“Pierce. I saw him hanging around earlier. This club’s normally not his thing.”
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes, figuring out that Rocky must have been the one to scare him off earlier.
“Too early for me to ask what you think of him?” Rocky leans in, voice low like I’m about to share some secret with him.
I scrunch up my nose. "First off, he looks just like you, which is too weird for words. Second, why were you watching me, you freak?"
“Flattered?"
“Creeped out."
He throws his hand over his chest, mouth agape. "Ouch.”
“You’ll be all right.” I lay a hand on his shoulder and top my declaration off with a dramatic sigh.
He chuckles, but shakes his head, cutting the moment short. “Someone’s asking for you.”
I barely stifle a groan. I’ve been running around since I got here. You would think I’m the only girl working tonight. "Where’s Chantel?”
“It doesn’t matter where she is.” He nods toward the ceiling. “The person asking for you is upstairs.”
Oh shit. My heart leaps then drops and I scurry off quickly without asking any questions.
What I expect when I walk in is a scene similar to the first night. But the room is empty this time. There are no guys scattered around playing cards, and the screens that normally pan down into the club are actually focused in on what looks to be the office.
“Come in,” a deep voice I’ve come to recognize says when I linger at the top of the steps.
Julian comes into view a second later, a wide smile on his face, sexiness dripping from his pores as usual. “How are you tonight?”
Good. Nervous. Turned on by the sight of him. “Did you need something?”
His smile falters but only for a second. “Other than you sitting on my dick?”
That escalated quickly. “Umm…”
He takes another step forward, and I take two large ones back, because this is most certainly not a challenge I accepted. My back hits the wall and I feel trapped.
“Umm…” I say again, gulping. “I mean, can I… can I get you something to drink?”
The skin of his forehead crinkles. “Didn’t Rocky send you up here?”
“Of course, how else would I know to come up here?”
“Then why are you scared?”
�
��I’m not scared.” I square my shoulders and push against his chest.
“You’re acting scared.”
Clearing my throat, I sidestep him. I don’t know if he’s trying to intimidate me or flirt with me but either way I can’t let him get the best of me. “Did you need a drink tonight?”
With a small shake of his head, Julian laughs and takes a step back. “A bottle of champagne. And, Selena?” he calls out as I step on the top stair.
“Yes?” I manage to squeak out without turning around.
“And something for you if you want.”
“Right.” I stagger down the stairs, barely able to catch my breath. As soon as I’m through the doors and they shut behind me, I’m in face-palm stance. Seriously, Selena? You have got to man up.
Not that my brain-to-mouth—or nice-to-bitch—filter is always on point, but it seems to get worse whenever I’m near Julian, who clearly has no filter.
“I need a bottle of Rosé,” I shout to Terrence, our bar-back for the night. He nods with a thumbs up, materializing only a minute later with the black bottle in hand.
“It’s three-fifty tonight,” he says. “Boss’s rules. If anyone gives you an issue, Rocky said to let him know.”
Seeing as how some of these guys have spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on lap dances, I’ve never had anyone give me an issue about a bottle price before, but still, I smile and say, “Thank you!”
Get your shit together, I pep talk myself. He’s just a guy. Just another guy.
Back upstairs, Julian is sitting down, his stare glued to the entryway, waiting for me.
“Hi,” I whisper, setting down the bottle.
“Belaire.” He tilts his head to take a peek at the label. “How did you know that’s what I want?”
“Wild guess?”
“Well, it’s a wrong guess. How much?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of money; the thickness of it makes me gulp. No one should be carrying around that kind of cash. But just as quickly, the thought fades away. I don’t even want to know.
“It’s three hundred and fifty dollars tonight.”
Julian’s hand stills, and he slowly looks up at me, shaking his head with an amused grin. “You’re still not trained. Next time someone asks you for a bottle of anything, you double check what they want, make sure they get something else to go with it, and you make sure you tell them it’s more than what you’ve been quoted downstairs. That’s how you’re going to make your money.”
“Well, I make twenty percent of every bottle I sell,” I defend for really no reason. The depths of my pockets are none of his concern.
“Anyone who comes in here willing to pay three hundred dollars for champagne should be willing to pay four to five. You pocket the rest, and you still get your cut.”
“Sounds like stealing.” I lean back.
“No. What it sounds like is survival, and if you want to make it around here, you need to wise up.”
I seriously, seriously want to head-butt him right now. One minute he’s practically telling me he wants to fuck me, and the next he’s lecturing me about shit that’s really none of his business. “Anything else I can get for you?”
“As a matter of fact.” He nods toward one of the TVs, and I see that it’s back to focusing on the main stage and Miracle is back on the pole. Either this is a longer than normal encore, or mere minutes have passed since I’ve come up here when it’s felt like hours. “When she's done, I want you to bring her up here for me."
I nod at his request and try to hide my frown. Guys asking me to bring them someone to dance for them is part of the job. Hearing the request from Julian, however, slightly cracks at my heart—almost like I had expected something more from him, even though he’s given me absolutely no reason than to expect him to be the exact same. Thankfully, this feeling only lasts for a brief second before I snap myself out of it. It’s the same shit, just a different club and the same sleaze behind a different smile.
But this, this is a conversation I can keep up with.
“What's in it for me?” I cock an eyebrow.
He smiles, a look of pride on his face, as he pinches a few bills from his money clip. He leans over to me slowly, then slides his hand into my back pocket. I manage to grab his wrist before he can curl his fingers and grab my ass. Lord knows what else he would try or even what I would do in response—probably bend myself over the couch, to be honest.
Shaking my head, I take a step away from him. “I'll be right back,” I say as politely as possible, though I shoot him a look of disgust in the process.
“Wait,” he calls out to me.
“What? Something for me if I want? I don’t need a lap dance, but thanks.”
“Actually...” He’s at my side seconds later, pulling me toward where we’d just been standing. “I changed my mind. I don’t want you to bring some girl up here for me. Relax and come back here.”
“But you just—”
“I changed my mind.” He licks his lips. “Now have a seat. Have a drink with me.”
“I’m working.” And annoyed. What kind of game is he playing? I can’t keep up. I’m not sure I even want to anymore.
“I’m aware,” he says.
“So, then you understand why I have to decline your offer.”
“Not at all.”
Confused and even more aggravated, I repeat myself. “Julian, I’m working. Obviously, I can’t stop just to drink with you.”
He goes about uncorking the bottle and pouring some of the sparkling pink liquid into the glass he already has—a task I should be doing for him. “So, if you were downstairs and a customer offered you a drink, you wouldn’t take it?”
“Of course I would.” We have to. It's a rule. “But this is different.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Julian—”
“Please.” He gestures toward the bottle then the seat next to him. “I insist.”
“You’re not going to give up, are you?”
“No.”
“All right, fine, but if I get in trouble, you’re going to do whatever you need to make it right, ya know, being that you’re up here and a special guest and all.” My quoting what Rocky had said makes me realize something I should have realized weeks ago. “Wait. You’ve been asking Rocky to call me up here for you?” How cute. How high school.
He bends his head and looks away from me but not quick enough to hide the small—almost embarrassed—smile on his face.
“Why didn’t you just come down there and talk to me yourself?” I ask.
His demeanor changes again almost instantly. Tenses. “I don’t go down there.”
“And why not? What’s wrong with being down there?” I point to the windows, wondering if he’s being snotty or just being matter of fact with it.
“I prefer the privacy this room provides. It’s why I had it built.”
“Why you had it built?”
His shoulders swell with clear pride, and the same wide smile that greeted me when I first walked up here returns. “Yes, now, why don’t you stop being stubborn, have a seat, and a drink with me, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
I relent but with my own terms. “Fine. I’ll sit for a few minutes, but I’ll take a raincheck on the drink and the bedtime story.”
“I can live with that.” He grins and fans his hands toward an empty chair.
I sit rigid, having no clue what to do, what to say, or how to act. Julian on the other hand, looks at ease sipping his drink, ankle crossed over his knee, and a permanent side grin.
“Would you stop looking at me like that?” I point in the general direction of his face.
His expression doesn’t falter. “Has anyone asked you if you danced yet?”
Yes. “Almost every night.” Twice today alone. And him once already.
Humming, Julian takes a drink, never once taking his eyes off of me. “I can see why.”
“I guess I should take that as a compliment?�
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“That you should.” He bites his bottom lip. I have to look away. This motherfucker right here, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I think about when we first met, how arrogant he was in this exact room. Then to the last time I saw him, how he seemed to hate me—hate the fact that I spoke to Quincy. Then how quickly that changed with a quick conversation in the kitchen. My mind gets stuck on that one moment. In the kitchen. At my party. His compliments, calling me beautiful, and our moment of truce. Then how it all came crashing down when his… whatever she was walked into the room.
“So, where’s your girlfriend?”
Julian’s face falls, and he sets his drink down. I think he even chokes a little. “My who?” He coughs into his fist.
The air feels like it’s getting sucked out of the room, and I know without a doubt that I’ve completely ruined the moment. Still, I can’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. “Girlfriend, wife, boyfriend.” I slur the three together and flip my wrist to show how nonchalant I am about this whole thing. Yup. Totally cool. That’s me. “Ya know… whichever.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Ruin the moment so effortlessly.”
“It’s a gift.” I cringe. More like a curse. “I should probably get back to work anyway.”
He nods and lets me go. Halfway down the stairs though, he’s right behind me, calling my name.
“Raincheck on the drink then? You know… on a day you’re not working?”
I do my best to hide my smile, knowing that I want to say yes, but refusing to give in so easily. “No, thank you.”
“Dinner then?”
“I’m not a big eater.”
“So, a movie?”
I don’t hide my smile this time. He may be an ass, but he’s kind of cute, and I know he’s loving the back and forth just as much as I am. “What would happen if I actually said yes?”