Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  I wrote Jackie’s sister’s address on a sticky note and went back to the VIP room. I should bring her back to my office, so she wasn’t holding up a room for one of the girls. I had wanted to shock her, but that hadn’t worked. What had I been thinking? I liked how every emotion flitted across her face. It was intimate sitting there talking to her about stripping. It turned her on and I was one step behind her. If she went back to my office or perhaps upstairs to my apartment, no one would interrupt us.

  Rubbing a hand down my face, I needed to get Jackie out of the club before I was tempted to blow off the rest of tonight and show her the town. I should hand her the address and tell her to take her fine New York ass out of my club. When someone ran away from their family to Las Vegas and then disappeared, there was a reason for it. But nothing in Grier’s background check convinced me that Lisa Mitchell or her sister were the type to do that sort of thing. It was obvious Jackie was worried that Lisa’s disappearance wasn’t voluntary, and I knew she wouldn’t get anywhere with the cops unless foul play was suspected. So that was why I was breaking privacy rules to give Jackie her sister’s address. I knew all about the limitations on police investigations. My uncle’s club had been burned down and it had been declared arson, but there hadn’t been any convictions.

  When I walked into the VIP room, I wasn’t expecting Mina to be nursing a rum and Coke on the couch while Jackie was halfway up the stripper pole in her underwear. Holy crap, I was envious of the pole.

  Mina shot to her feet and Jackie gave a little shriek and fell on her ass. Good thing the floor was padded.

  “Out,” I said to Mina, gesturing to the door. She slammed it behind her in her haste to leave. That door was getting a workout tonight.

  Jackie sat, splayed out on the floor. Her hair was messy around her face and she hadn’t bothered to cover herself. She wore a simple white cotton bra that pushed up her curves enticingly. Her panties covered most of her ass. She looked like an Amish stripper.

  “I figured since I was paying premium bucks, I’d get some instruction while I was interviewing your dancers,” she said.

  My eyes narrowed. Did I detect a slight slurring in her words?

  “You thinking about becoming a stripper?” Her damn blush was going to be the death of me.

  “Maybe for one night?” Her lips twitched.

  Lord help me. I hoisted her up on her feet and considered kissing her, but figured she’d slap the shit out of me. “You’re not the stripper type.”

  The crazy chick got offended by that.

  “I can dance. I’ll ace any interview you set up.” Jackie glared up at me, her hands on her hips.

  “Stripping isn’t just dancing. I told you. It’s seducing a man out of every dollar bill in his pocket and maxing out his credit card.”

  Jackie set her shoulders. “I can be seductive.”

  No shit. But there was seductive and there was taking off your clothes in front of a strange man. I decided to call her bluff. “Show me. If you wow me, I’ll let you do a set.”

  “You’ll let me strip?” Jackie shook her head in disbelief. “I didn’t come here for a job. I came here to find my sister.”

  “She’s not here. Yet, you still are.”

  “Because the dancers keep stringing me along, feeding me bullshit.” She folded her arms in front of her chest. I guess she was mad, but all it did was push up her tits until my mouth almost watered.

  “They don’t trust you. You’re a paycheck to them. Here.” I stuck the note on her tempting cleavage and took a reluctant step away from her. I liked being close to her, but she was a distraction that I couldn’t afford to indulge in. I had a club to run, and an uncle to avenge. “It’s the address she gave on her employment application.”

  “Thank you,” Jackie said warmly and tucked the note into her purse. I expected her to make a beeline out of here or at least get dressed. But she hesitated and looked up at me with her pretty green eyes. “Did you interview her?”

  “Yeah.” I was wondering if she was going to put her dress back on, but I was enjoying the show too much to point that out to her. My fingers itched to get inside those panties that fit her like a pair of shorts. A bikini would show more skin, but I was enticed by the innocent temptation of her. Jackie wasn’t intimidated by being alone with me in her underwear, but that didn’t mean she could be an exotic dancer.

  “How did she seem?” she asked.

  Lisa Mitchell was nothing like her sister. She had been mostly forgettable and a prude. You could tell she didn’t like taking her clothes off and was uncomfortable in her own skin. Jackie seemed right at ease and I wanted to feel her body against mine more than I wanted my next breath.

  “Miles?”

  “Hmm?” I realized I had been staring and forced myself to look away. What the hell had she asked me? Oh yeah. Her sister. “Broadway was a competent dancer, otherwise I wouldn’t have hired her.”

  “Was she strung out or desperate?”

  “No. I wouldn’t have hired her if she was.”

  “If I prove to you that I can do this, you said you’d let me do a set. That’s not going to be enough.”

  “Enough for what?” I asked warily.

  “Mina said there was one guy who would come in and always ask for Broadway.”

  “Yeah, that’s how it goes. Repeat business.” I rubbed by thumb against my fingers, indicating money. “She must have had something he couldn’t get enough of.”

  “Do you think he might show up again? I could hang around and do a few sets. I’d like a chance to talk to him, if he’s a regular customer.”

  “I was joking about the set,” I said, staring at her in shock.

  “The dancers would warm up to me, if I was one of them.” Jackie paced around the room while she spoke.

  I didn’t like the idea of watching other men drool over her. On the other hand, I’d love for her to dance for me. Privately. “That’s not going to work. I need a certain type of dancer.”

  “I’m a good dancer. I’m better than Lisa. Now, anyway.” She muttered the last part under her breath.

  “This isn’t A Chorus Line and you’re not in a cattle call for a showgirl position.” I gave her a slow once-over. “Although, you’ve got the legs for it.”

  “I do?” She smiled as she looked down the line of her legs.

  Jackie was going to drive me out of my mind if I didn’t put an end to this and her cute exotic dancer fantasies. “You’d freeze the moment it came to take off your clothes.” I grinned as her lips tightened. “And my clients want to see more skin. And those granny panties aren’t going to cut it on the stage.”

  “They’re not granny panties.” Jackie scowled. “You’re just used to women in butt floss. Do you know how uncomfortable that is?”

  “No, but I’m told you get used to it.”

  “I don’t want to get used to it,” she said.

  “I can’t have full nudes because I’m serving alcohol, but you need to show some tits and ass.” Normally, I wouldn’t be so crude but the men who came to my club weren’t going to be as suave and erudite as I was.

  Jackie blushed.

  I pointed at her adorable pink cheeks. “And that’s why you’re not an exotic dancer.”

  “I’m not ashamed of my body,” she said, throwing her arms wide.

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  Tilting her head, she thought about it. “One at the Spearmint Rhino and one and a half here.”

  Hmmm, that didn’t sound like she was drunk.

  “I’ve been around show people all my life. Everyone is naked backstage, and no one cares. Hell, I’ve known you all of ten minutes and you don’t see me clutching my pearls.” Jackie struck an innocent pose that made me want to see how wicked she could be.

  One of us needed a reality check and I wasn’t sure which one. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t contract you to work at Dalton’s without a Las Vegas business license and you need to be registered with the Ne
vada Department of Taxation.”

  “Did Lisa have all that?”

  “Yes.”

  “That surprises the hell out of me. Lisa had to have her hand held to do her taxes every year and hated filling out forms. She usually just had me do it. I’m surprised she didn’t call me up and make me file for her.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say because she didn’t want to answer any questions.”

  Jackie murmured something that sounded like she agreed with me. Just when I was about to suggest she get dressed and we could get some dinner, she looked up from nibbling on her damn lip again.

  “What happens if I get my license and register with the state?”

  “How long are you here for?” Fuck me, but she was serious.

  “Two weeks. Less, if I can find her.”

  “It will take about half that, if you’re lucky. You’d be better off working as a subcontractor with one of the other dancers’ licenses.”

  “Could you hire me outright? Like a bartender who dances too.”

  “If I gave you a salary and let you dance for tips, I’d have a riot on my hands.” Wait. Why was I even giving this crazy idea serious thought? Because not only did Jackie Mitchell look mouthwatering in her bra and panties, I also liked talking to her. It had been a hard slog these past two years to get Dalton’s to turn a profit. I had to rebuild. Nothing of Uncle Johnny’s Gentlemen’s Club had survived the fire. I worked night and day. Sure, there had been women, but no one who lasted longer than two weeks. I was due for another two-week fling and Jackie was clicking all my buttons.

  “What if I split the tips amongst all of the staff, not just the dancers? I’m not in this for the money,” she said.

  I couldn’t believe she was still talking about this. I was distracted by the leg lifts she was doing so it took me a full minute to register what she’d just said. “That’s already the wrong attitude. Weren’t you listening?”

  “Yes, but I’m here to find my sister, not hustle for tips. If dancing and sharing tips will get me enough goodwill that people will feel free opening up to me about Lisa, I’m willing to do this.”

  Was this chick for real? “Are you crazy? No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you work your ass off in this job. If you’re going to do it, you’re going to do it right. Your hustle, your tips.” What kind of exotic dancer gives away money? One who has no idea what it’s like. “You’re going to earn that money. It’s yours. Sure, if you want to tip a few bucks a night to the people who help you like the DJ and the bus staff, that’s fine. But no one has the right to that tip money aside from you.”

  “So are you going to put me on the schedule? If I can get one of the dancers to hire me under their business license, that is. And if I can convince you I’m not going to faint dead away?”

  “That’s a lot of ifs.”

  All my dancers were independent business owners. The fifty percent profit split was basically the rent I charged them to dance at Dalton’s. I had no doubt that one of them would take a flat nightly fee in exchange for hiring Jackie on as an employee. I had a lot of doubts that they would claim her on taxes or do any official paperwork. But Dalton’s was in the clear either way.

  “This is a bad fucking idea,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s messy and complicated. You won’t last one night.”

  “How long did Lisa last?”

  “She was so fucking bad, I don’t even remember.”

  “I’m better,” Jackie said, but suddenly she didn’t sound so sure.

  It threw me. She was balls-on, full speed ahead, but when her sister was mentioned it threw her. I definitely didn’t need the baggage she was carrying. There was one way to stop this out-of-control train wreck. I’d show her what working the VIP room was all about.

  “Let’s see what you got.” I plopped down on the couch. “Strip.”

  Jackie froze, her eyes going wide. “So you want me to audition for a part in your show?”

  This was going to be fun. I hoped she didn’t storm out and would allow me to buy her dinner after this. “I don’t have a show. I’ve got six-hour slots to fill. The bra has got to go, though.”

  “That could work out. I could look for Lisa during the day, and strip at night.”

  The crazy chick was considering it and I couldn’t believe she wasn’t telling me to go to hell.

  “Don’t you think this is a big sacrifice that you’re making for your sister?”

  “This isn’t even in the top ten of things I’ve sacrificed for Lisa.”

  “Why?”

  Jackie sighed. “You and my therapist ask the same questions.”

  “Your therapist owns a titty bar?”

  “She could with the money she’s made off my family.”

  “Fair enough.” I supposed I didn’t have a leg to stand on. I was obsessive about my uncle’s murder to the point I’d built a club on top of the ruins of his and worked day and night until it was just as successful as the old place had been. I had done it all to attract the same people who’d approached my uncle. I wanted to know what had been worth killing him and burning his club to the ground. I would do anything for that knowledge. I’d take off my clothes and wiggle my ass if I thought it would get me clues.

  “Do you want me to get totally naked?” Jackie asked, breaking me out of my brooding thoughts.

  Fuck yeah. “Topless is fine,” I said, clearing my throat. “Unless you’ve got a G-string in that suitcase of a purse.”

  “You should see my dance bag.” Jackie rolled her neck and shoulders. “I wasn’t planning on auditioning today.”

  “This isn’t an audition as much as a seduction. Not so much a dance as it is being a salesperson, and the commodity you’re selling is your time.”

  She nodded. “I got it. So if I convince you I’d be a good exotic dancer, you’ll let me hang around and ask questions?”

  “As long as you work your shift like the other girls and don’t piss off my customers.” It would never happen, but I was going to have fun watching Jackie’s attempt.

  “You got a deal,” she said, stretching her leg flat up the pole.

  My cock twitched. I should stop her. “Music on,” I said instead, activating another system command. “Play ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me,’ by Def Leppard.”

  The room flooded with the opening lyrics and thundered through the soundproofed room. Jackie narrowed her eyes.

  “I looked you up,” I said. “You’re an entertainment agent. You’re a classically trained dancer. This isn’t the Nutcracker Suite. You’d be a gorgeous ballerina, but my clients aren’t that cultured.”

  “Music stop,” she said.

  The sound quit immediately. I tried not to gloat and started to get up. “I wish you luck finding your sister.”

  “How about something from this century?” Jackie cracked her knuckles and barked out, “Computer, play ‘No’ by Meghan Trainor.”

  I barked out a laugh and sat back down. But she wiped the smile off my face when, during the premusic part of the song, she deliberately undid the clasp of her bra and shrugged it slowly off one shoulder then the other. Holy shit, she was serious.

  “Jackie are you sober?” I swallowed hard as I caught a glimpse of the top of a dusky pink nipple.

  “What happens in Vegas,” she said, continuing the slow tease with her bra as she strutted around the room. The entire time she held my eyes in a defiant challenge. My mouth went dry when her bra hit the floor. Her back was to me and she gave me a come-hither look over her shoulder. The sweet line of her back made my fingers itch to touch her.

  When the music started, her body pulsed to the music. She lazily twirled around the pole, using it as a prop rather than climbing it. Classically trained or not, she knew how to move her ass and hips. Her natural tits moved up and down to the beat and I couldn’t stop the stupid grin that spread over my face.

  “They teach you that in ballet school?” I wished
I had a pillow to put on my lap to hide how she was affecting me.

  “Girl Scouts.” She winked, going down to a low crouch and then up again.

  “Fuck,” I breathed out in a tortured groan.

  I was surrounded by half-naked women most days. Aside from a quick appreciation, I didn’t really notice it anymore. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Jackie. She danced close, her hips twitching seductively. I leaned forward, stopping myself from reaching for her at the last minute.

  Shimmying, she raised her eyebrow.

  When I just stared, Jackie strutted back to the pole and swayed her hips against it.

  “Are you going to stay all the way over there?”

  “Are you going to tip?” She smiled sassily at me.

  “It’s my club.” I said.

  She shrugged and mouthed the lyrics at me. “No.”

  I probably should stop this, but it was too much fun. Reaching into my wallet, I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Holding it up between my fingers, I thought she was going to call it off. She stumbled a bit and looked uncertain, but then she tossed her hair, losing herself in the music. Then she dropped into a one-handed plank and did a push-up into some yoga position I barely recognized, before crawling on her hands and knees to me.

  “Holy shit,” I said hoarsely, the bill dropping to the floor.

  She climbed on to the sofa and straddled my lap. I slipped my hands under the elastic of her panties to grab a hold of her sweet ass. Clutching the back of my head, she tugged it back so I was looking at her pretty face instead of at her soft round breasts that were hard and begging to be fondled.

  “Are you supposed to touch the dancer?” she asked, swaying to the music

  “You can call security if you want.” I said and nearly came in my pants when she sank down on my erection and rubbed against it.

  Her eyes glazed over in pleasure. Holy crap, this was turning her on. I was going to go off like a rocket. Jackie’s fingers dug into my shoulders as she ground herself against me again. We were both breaking Las Vegas decency laws right now if she had been an exotic dancer and I had been her client. But I didn’t give a fuck.