McKenna went to finish getting ready for her set, and I turned back to the mirror, giving my thick blonde hair one last fluff before standing from my seat.
The floor rumbled and the vibrations of the loud music filtered through the door as I moved on my seven-and-a-half-inch platform stilettos with the same ease I would if I were barefoot.
The razor-thin tip of the heel clacked as I crossed the room and slipped the cheap satin robe from my shoulders. I hung it on the hook right by the door, grabbed the knob, and pulled it open, immediately assaulted by the irritating beat of Mötley Crüe’s “Girls, Girls, Girls.”
God, I hated Mötley Crüe. Honestly, I hated all things 80s glam rock. Which really sucked, seeing as I worked at a strip club where the likes of “Pour Some Sugar on Me” and all the other cliché stripper songs played on a continuous freaking loop hour after hour, night after night. It was enough to make me want to permanently deafen myself with a spiked heel to the eardrum just so I wouldn’t have to listen to one more godforsaken hair band.
The god-awful song ended a few minutes later and the curtain pulled aside as Spencer, the dancer who’d just performed, left the stage, her full, naked breasts bared for all to see as she gave me a friendly wave and headed back toward the dressing room.
The DJ’s voice sounded through the speakers a moment later. “And now for the woman you’ve all been waiting for. The hottest of the hot,” he continued, riling the crowd up.
I freaking hated this part.
“The sinful princess of the pole. The one and only… Marilyn!”
The opening chords of “I Feel Like I’m Drowning” by Two Feet started playing, and my brain clicked into autopilot as my painted lips stretched into a smile I kept designated for the stage and I threw the red velvet curtains open.
The room erupted into hoots and catcalls, but I was more than used to it, doing just what I’d told McKenna and tuning it all out, listening only to the music as it thumped through the floorboards.
The boning of the corset I was wearing bit into my ribs as I swayed my hips dramatically, but I’d become a pro at ignoring the discomfort that came with this particular job a long damn time ago.
I raked my fingers through my hair, lifting it high off my shoulders before letting it fall back down in waves. The sultry cadence of the song made my blood sing as I moved to the front of the stage to vamp for the crowd. I toyed with the hooks holding my corset together, giving the men up front a playful wink without making eye contact with a single one of them, a skill I’d honed over the last year and a half.
I danced with ease, my movements second nature as I slowly undid one hook at a time before dropping the scrap of fabric to the ground, revealing the black-and-red push-up bra that barely contained my breasts.
I slid my palms up my hips and along my waist, over the swell of my breasts and back down again. I touched myself in a way the men in the audience were dying to touch me but couldn’t, making them wish they could get their dirty hands on my body.
The bills flew at me, falling like rain as I smiled and teased, using every inch of the stage as my playground before finally heading for the pole, where I did my best work.
The whoops and hollers grew louder as I used the muscles in my legs to climb up before flipping upside down and spinning around slowly and seductively.
I wasn’t kidding when I told McKenna the pole was an excellent workout. It took every single muscle in my body to slide up and down, switching positions midspin. Hell, I’d discovered muscles I never knew existed before this. It had taken some time, but I could now work the pole in a way that made it appear as easy as breathing.
I shimmied and dropped down, dragging my nails along my fishnet-clad legs as I stood back to my full height. As the tempo picked up, I reached behind me and unsnapped the bra, letting the straps slip off my shoulders while holding the cups in place, only giving the men a small taste. Only as the song finally reached the end did I let it fall to reveal what they’d been panting after for the past three minutes.
It was amazing what just a brief flash of naked breasts could do. The lights flicked off. Everything went black on a loud, raucous cheer. And just like that, my set was done.
* * *
McKenna was waiting in the dressing room with a huge smile on her face as I came back in, pulling the robe over my shoulders to cover my chest and the hint of cheek showing from my itty-bitty boy-cut panties.
“Wow.” She rushed up to me. “You’re amazing. You barely give them a peek and they still go crazy for you.”
Heading toward the mini fridge in the corner, I pulled out a bottle of water and sucked down half. Dancing under those painfully bright lights felt like standing in the middle of the sweltering desert most nights. “Thanks, hon. I’ve watched you a couple times, and you’re pretty amazing yourself.”
And that was the god’s honest truth. McKenna had a natural talent when it came to dancing. I couldn’t understand why she’d chosen to work at a seedy club in a backwoods town when she had the skill to do something so much more. But we all had our stories, and I wasn’t going to push her to reveal hers. She’d tell me if or when she was ready.
“Yo, Gypsy,” Bruce called a couple minutes later. “Got a request for a private dance.”
My top lip curled and I heaved out a beleaguered sigh as I moved to the clothes rack across the room. I hated giving private dances, but they were par for the course in this line of work, unfortunately.
Doug used to try and talk me into doing the “extras” he’d all but forced the other girls into doing, but I’d adamantly refused.
I wouldn’t judge the girls who did—no one knew peoples’ circumstances unless you walked in their shoes—but I just couldn’t bring myself to go that route, no matter how hard up for cash I was.
As it was, a lot of men would easily shell out the extortionate amount it cost to get a dance from the club’s headliner. I’d grind against him for two songs, and then bail out, spending an extra fifteen minutes in the shower at the end of the night to get the noxious smell of cologne and horny desperation off my skin.
Flicking the hangers across the rod, I settled on one of the more demure nighties. The gauzy pink material fluttered to midthigh and was see-through from my ribs all the way down. The spaghetti straps had cute little bows on top of my shoulders, and the push-up cups were covered in the same frilly ruffles that were on the behind of the matching panties. I pulled off the black fishnet thigh highs from my set and slipped on a pair of tacky platform Lucite heels that screamed Yeah, that’s right. I’m a stripper, then headed back for the mirror and gave my makeup and hair a touch-up before bracing for what was to come.
“Where is he?” I asked Bruce as I passed by his big, lumbering form just outside the doorway.
“Table ten.”
Just freaking great. Table ten. All the way in the back near the bar, which meant I was going to have to walk through that gross sausage-fest of a crowd to get to the big spender and escort him all the way across the club to the back rooms.
This was all part of the act I’d been telling McKenna about, and I liked to consider myself a seasoned actor when it came to making these assholes believe I was genuinely interested in them.
Adding an exaggerated sway to my hips in the hopes of enticing this guy into loosening his purse strings even more, I made my way through the front of the club as quickly as I could without making it obvious. I cast seductive grins at the men I passed and managed to dodge grabby hands as I skirted the tables on my way toward the back. I’d been so focused on avoiding unwanted touches and watching my step to keep from tripping on my sky-high heels that I hadn’t looked at the man at table ten until I was within a couple feet of it.
Finally glancing up with a flirty expression on my face, I lowered my voice and said, “Hey, honey. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
The man leaned forward, coming out of the shadows that had been obscuring his face from me.
Then the bottom fell ou
t of my world when familiar hazel eyes landed on me and that smooth velvety voice said, “You’re most definitely worth the wait, girasol.”
Chapter Four
Gypsy
No.
No, no, no, no, no! This couldn’t be happening.
I couldn’t breathe correctly. It was like someone had swung a bat at my chest. The air of confidence I wore as a shield whenever I set foot in this place quickly fell away, leaving me as raw and exposed as an open wound. “M-Marco.” That one word trembled as goose bumps broke out across my skin.
It wasn’t a secret that I danced at Pink Palace—all of my friends knew—but up until that very moment, I’d successfully kept those two parts of my life completely separate from each other.
My girls didn’t judge me for what I did, but that didn’t mean I wanted any of the people in the circle of friends I’d begun developing recently to see me like this. Especially this man.
Shame heated my cheeks, and I was suddenly hit with the unexpected and overwhelming desire to cry. If I hadn’t already known I wasn’t good enough for him before now, this humiliating turn of events would certainly have done it.
My throat felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton as I asked, “What are you doing here?”
He stood from the table, his imposing size stealing the air from my lungs. The grin that pulled at his lips would have normally made my belly flip had it not been for the mortification burning my skin at that very moment. “Waiting for my dance, sweetheart.”
I’d been such an idiot. In spite of all my objections, I’d naively let my friends’ words penetrate that protective wall, and I’d stupidly begun to hope that maybe a man could see me as more than… well, this.
Silly me.
I felt my heart begin to shrivel in my chest, and I used the ache to refortify that protective wall.
Thanks to the glaring reminder that hope was a bitch, I was able to slip back into the persona I used within Pink Palace, treating Marco as I would any of these men.
“Well, let’s not keep you waiting any longer, baby.” Ignoring the distinct dip of his brows and his consternated glower, I took his hand and began leading him toward the back rooms.
It felt like a bolt of lightning shot through my entire body at the simple touch of his palm against mine. His hand nearly swallowed mine whole, making me feel tiny for the first time in my life, even in those ridiculous heels.
Awareness tickled at my senses as he trailed behind me. I could feel his eyes on my body like a physical touch, causing my breasts to swell and my nipples to pucker.
It was only by the grace of god that I got us to the private room without tripping over my own feet. The door closed behind us with a resounding click that nearly had me jumping out of my skin. Grabbing the small remote to the sound system, I hit play and “Gooey” by Glass Animals filled the room. I led Marco to the garish red velvet banquette settee in the center of the room. Turning to face him for the first time since we entered, I looked up at him through my eyelashes and grinned. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I gently pressed down until he was seated, resting my palms on his denim-clad knees. I spread his long legs wide and stepped between them. This was the closest he and I had ever been, and the deep, musky spice of his cologne wafted over me as I began to move.
Closing my eyes against the self-reproach scoring at my insides, I began to sway to the beat until his big hands landed on my hips, stopping me. “Gypsy, babe, stop. You don’t have to do this.”
My eyelids shot up, and I lowered my head to look down at him. “What? But I thought you paid for—”
His expression was warm and tender as his grip on me lightened, but he didn’t let go. Instead, those longs fingers began to rub soft circles on my waist. “I needed to talk to you without making it obvious, and this was the only way I could think to do that.”
“Talk to me about what?”
“You got cameras in here?” he asked, the question doing nothing to lessen my confusion.
“Huh?”
“Cameras, girasol. Are there any in here?”
“Uh….” I turned to look up at the black security camera in the corner of the ceiling. The blinking red light that usually indicated someone was watching wasn’t on at the moment. “Well, yeah, but it’s not on right now. Why?”
Rising to his feet, Marco moved to the door and clicked the flimsy lock on the knob into place.
“Okay, you’re really starting to freak me out. What’s going on?”
My knees began trembling with apprehension as he moved back to the settee and resumed his seat, bracing his forearms on his knees. Those golden greenish eyes came back to me, and the seriousness inside of them made me shiver. “Listen, we got some intel recently that didn’t sit right, so from here on out, any time you’re working at the club, you’re gonna have eyes on you.”
“What? Why? What intel?”
“You ever hear the name Malachi Black?”
My eyes went wide in shock. Of course I’d heard it. His wasn’t a name that was mentioned in town all that often, but a few months back, Nona’s ex-husband got in some serious trouble for dealing crystal meth, and I’d heard from her that this Malachi Black guy was the one who ran the whole operation he’d been tangled up in. He was a seriously bad guy who was into some seriously bad shit.
“I take it by the look on your face you have,” Marco said. I nodded in confirmation. “Well, hate to break it to you, Gypsy, but he’s the new owner of this place.”
My mouth dropped open so wide it was a wonder I didn’t get rug burn on the bottom of my chin. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Wish I was, babe, but I’m dead serious.”
It took a few seconds for the gravity of the situation to really hit me, and once it did, I started to freak out. “Oh my god.” I reached up to rake my fingers through my hair. “But he’s a drug dealer!”
“He’s worse than that,” he muttered darkly.
I threw my arms out wide and cried, “What the hell does a guy who’s worse than a drug dealer want with a freaking strip club?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
Panic started to take over, and I paced the floor in front of the settee as I gave voice to every single thought racing through my mind.
“Shit, what am I going to do? I can’t just quit. I need this job! I hate it, sure, but I still need it. That stupid freaking water heater went out, and I swear to god, it’s a wonder the brakes on my car even work anymore! Then there’s the fact that Ray practically grows out of all his clothes every month. And Sunny wants to try out for the cheerleading squad. That’s—” I tried to do the calculations in my head and failed. “—a lot of money if she makes it, which she probably will because she’s awesome at that kind of stuff. And Rhodes is graduating next year, and I still don’t have enough for him to go to college—”
My tirade was cut off with a sharp yelp when Marco grabbed me and pulled me down onto his lap. “Christ, Gypsy. Calm down.” He waited a second to see if I’d let out any more word vomit. When it became clear that I was too shocked by his hold on me to continue, the corner of his mouth began to tremble as he fought back a grin and asked, “Did you even take a breath through all that?”
Judging by the burn in my lungs, it was clear I hadn’t, and on that realization, I sucked in some much-needed oxygen.
He lost his battle, and the tremble in his lips morphed into a brilliant white grin. My chest heaved on a stuttered breath at the sight of it. I’d seen him smile several times before, even going so far as labeling all the different ones I’d been lucky enough to witness. But I’d never seen one this close, and to say it didn’t affect me would be a bald-faced lie. It was like looking into the sun—the burn was bright and nearly blinding, but so beautiful I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
“That’s it,” he said softly, trailing his hand over my back in soothing circles. “You feel better now?”
My face fell into a dejected frow
n. “Not particularly,” I grumbled. “I’m working for a freaking drug dealer, and I’m stuck.”
“You don’t need to worry about that, Gypsy. You don’t have to quit. No one expects you to. That’s why Linc insisted on putting a man on you.”
I vaguely noticed Glass Animals track changed to “Toes” as my agitation grew. “I don’t need a man on me,” I clipped, climbing from his lap even though that was the last thing my body wanted. I shot him a glare and insisted, “I’m a big girl, Marco. Believe it or not, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need you or anyone else babysitting me.” I was being incredibly rude, but my knee-jerk reaction to stress and worry was to become obstinate.
The smile fell from his face, and his expression grew dark. “No one said you couldn’t take care of yourself. This isn’t about that. This is about people who care for you wanting to keep you safe, and to make sure that happens, Lincoln is putting a man on you whether you like it or not.”
Not you, my brain screamed. Please, anyone but you.
I couldn’t stand the thought of him seeing me like that, seducing a bunch of horny men night after night. It was demoralizing.
But I couldn’t let him see that. I couldn’t let him see any more weakness. I wouldn’t be able to survive his pity.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I let my inner bitch fly. “I’m sure it’s not a hardship for you or any of those guys to spend a couple nights a week having women flash their tits in your face for cash, but I can assure you, it’s not necessary.”
He stalked closer, his face like thunder as his cutting words flayed me open. “Trust me, baby. I don’t need to pay a cover charge or a goddamn two drink minimum to get a woman to flash her tits in my face. Then again, from the way your cheeks burn red and your pulse kicks up every time you look my way, I’m sure you already knew that.”
If it was possible to die of humiliation, I’d have keeled over right then and there. It was bad enough finding out I’d done a shitty job at hiding my attraction from him, but it was even worse to have him throw it in my face. “Anyone ever tell you women don’t like cocky assholes?”
Wrong Side of the Tracks: a Hope Valley novel Page 4