Asher

by Piper Davenport

  Addison snorted in disgust. “We have to get you sexier underwear before you bang my brother.”

  “First of all, there are so many things wrong with that sentence I can’t begin to address them all, and secondly, I wasn’t anticipating that we’d be busting out of our clothes and into a strip club when I dressed this morning.”

  “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.”

  Shocked, I stared at her. “Are you quoting your mom at me?”

  “No. I’m quoting Benjamin Franklin at you. And my mom. Now come on. We’re wasting valuable cheater-catcher time.” She turned on her heel and marched past blacked-out windows toward the club doors. Struggling not to break my neck on the uneven concrete in the heels she’d dressed me in for our interview, I followed. When we reached the entrance, she took a deep breath, smoothed down her clothing, and pulled open the heavy metal door.

  I felt the wisps of hair hanging down from my French twist fly away from my face in an air-conditioned blast that smelled like the combined aroma of food, alcohol, and perfume. Blinking rapidly, I tried to get my eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, but the instant my sight returned, I wanted to run back outside. A completely nude girl hung upside down from the pole on the stage, and a bunch of big, scary looking bikers were surrounding her, making catcalls and throwing bills on the stage. Addison grabbed my arm and tugged me behind her as she made a beeline for Greg, who was standing at the bar waiting for a drink.

  Pausing right before she reached him, she pointed at my purse and mouthed, “Camera.”

  I tugged it out and hit record, holding it like I would a cell phone since it was about the same size. Looking around to make sure nobody had noticed I’d brought a camera into a strip club like some sort of freak, I nodded.

  Addison grinned before sidling up to Greg. When he didn’t immediately notice her, she bumped into him. “Oh, sorry,” she said with a giggle.

  His gaze raked up and down her body before focusing on her cleavage. “No problem. No problem at all. A beautiful woman like yourself can bump into me anytime. Here, let me buy you a drink. What’ll it be?”

  She eyed the liquor behind the bartender before ordering a whiskey sour. “I haven’t seen you around here,” Greg said, still speaking to Addison’s boobs. “Trust me, I’d notice.”

  “Do you come here often?” she asked.

  “Often enough. It’s not far from my office, so I like to pop in and get a drink to relax after work sometimes.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire, I sang quietly to myself.

  “Oh? What do you do for work?”

  “I’m a doctor.”

  Addison’s eyes widened and she leaned forward as though his fake profession piqued her interest. “You are?”

  “Yep. I work at the hospital just down the street.”

  “Impressive. What do you specialize in?”

  “Everything. I’m an ER doctor.”

  While I barely resisted the urge to cough “bullshit,” Addison laid it on thick.

  “Wow. You’re probably the smartest person in here, aren’t you?”

  He took a sip of his drink and gave her a shrug of fake humility. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Well, you’re probably the best paid.”

  He gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Are you trying to get more free drinks out of me?”

  She laughed. “Depends. Is it working?”

  He patted the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “Keep those drinks coming.”

  Before Addison could respond, a balding man with bloodshot eyes came marching around the bar, tugging at his tie like it was strangling the calm out of him. His gaze landed on us and recognition lit up his expression. Fearing he’d seen the camera, I slipped it into my purse and drew closer to Addison.

  “There you two are,” the man said, releasing a deep breath as he raked a hand over the cul-de-sac he had on his dome. “Come on. I’ll show you to the dressing room.”

  Confused, I started to ask, “Dressing r—”

  Addison grabbed my hand and squeezed, cutting me off. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “Marvin Bates. The manager. And I expected you two ten minutes ago.”

  “You’re a stripper?” Greg asked, his eyes widening, giving me the impression of a creepy leprechaun staring at a pot of gold.

  “Of course they are,” Marvin snapped. “Come on girls.”

  I probably would have stayed frozen in place if Addison hadn’t tugged me along behind her. We followed Marvin through the employee only entrance as he muttered about some girl named Lisa and how he was never using her agency again if her girls couldn’t even be on time. We stepped into a room with four mirrored makeup stations, several racks of obscene scraps of fabric that were no doubt supposed to be costumes, and a thin girl who looked barely legal and was applying some sort of tassels to her bare nipples.

  “Candy, these are the temps covering for Jade and Destiny. Finally fuckin’ made it. Show ’em the ropes, will ya?” Marvin asked.

  “Sure thing, boss.” Candy’s dark, chin-length bob of hair bounced as she looked up from her boobs long enough to give us a bolstering smile. Marvin stormed out. When the door slammed behind him, Candy said, “Don’t mind Marvin. He’s always wound tight and snaps at everything, which is probably why we can’t keep house girls and need to bring in agency girls in the first place.” She finished with her tassels and looked up at us. “What are your stage names so I can tell the DJ?”

  Addison stepped forward. “I’m Cinnamon, and this is...” She looked at me, but I had no suggestions to offer. “Scarlet,” she improvised.

  “Great,” Candy replied, slipping a thin, short Egyptian-themed dress over her head. “I like the office girl look, but it might be a bit much for both of you to use. Feel free to change it up with anything in here.” She pointed at the racks of scandalous clothing. “Cinnamon, you’ll go on after me. I’m gonna go let Aaron know before my set starts. What are your songs?”

  “How about...“Cherry Pie,” Warrant, “Let’s Talk About Sex,” Salt-N-Pepa, um...and I’m “Too Sexy,” Right Said Fred.”

  I bit back a groan as she listed off the three songs she’d turn up to eleven and sing at the top of her lungs whenever they came on. I’d never realized what perfect stripper songs they were before, but now I’d never forget.

  “Got it,” Candy replied. “What about you, Scarlet?”

  My heart felt like it was about to pound out of my chest. Songs? That meant I’d be dancing. With the pole. Wearing nothing but one of these straps of fabric. And the girl out there was naked. Did they expect me to go full on nude?

  “She’s still trying to decide between a few,” Addison said, stepping in to save me. “I’ll be sure to let Aaron know her selections before I go on stage.”

  “Okay,” Candy said with a shrug. “Make yourselves at home. The stage is right out that door and to the left. You’ll see the curtain. Aaron’s just past the curtain.”

  “Thanks,” Addison replied.

  “No problem.” Candy headed out the door she’d mentioned on plastic heels that had to be at least six inches high. “Break a leg, bitches.”

  Which was exactly what would happen if I had to dance in heels like that. Naked. As soon as the door closed behind Candy, I turned on Addison. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Breathe.” Addison patted my back reassuringly. “It’s all going to be okay. I’ll get out there, dance to my three songs, put my tatas in Greg’s face so you can get the footage, and then we’ll bail. You won’t even have to go out on the stage.”

  “Addie, that girl on the pole out there is completely naked. You’re going to strip all the way out of your clothes? In front of a bunch of horny bikers?”

  “What? No. I’ll keep my bottoms on.” She started rummaging through props. “Maybe find some of those tassel things Candy was using to cover my nipples.”

  Anxiety was burning a crater through my gut. “I have to use the r
estroom,” I muttered, heading for the door.

  Addison had a pink feather boa in her hands and was laying it across a sequined mini-skirt, wrinkling up her nose. “Okay, hurry. I need your help going through this stuff.”

  I hurried into the restroom and went straight to the sink to splash some water on my face and hopefully wake up from this nightmare. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. I was still in the unsanitary bathroom of a strip club while my best friend was preparing to prance out on the stage and shove her boobs in the face of some cheating sleaze.

  Sometimes Addison was so driven, she lost sight of the consequences. My gut was screaming at me that this was a huge mistake and I needed to call for help. I didn’t want to betray my friend’s trust, but I couldn’t ignore all the reasons why this seemed like a very bad idea.

  Finally, I tugged my phone out of my pocket and called Asher.

  “Hey, Dylan, you miss me already?” he answered.

  Just hearing his voice helped calm my nerves. “Yes, but that’s not why I’m calling. Addie’s about to do something crazy, and I can’t stop her.”

  All humor vanished from his voice. “What’s going on?”

  “We got the job and we followed our target to a strip club in Beaverton.”

  “Which strip club?” he asked.

  “The Pink Fox.”

  “Shit.”

  “Wait. How do you know this place?” I asked.

  “Because one of my clients got his ass handed to him by a biker in that bar. It’s a Spider bar, Dylan.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The Spiders own it.”

  “As in the motorcycle gang that’s always in the news for breaking laws?”

  “Yep.”

  My legs felt like they were about to slide out from under me, so I leaned against the sink. “What do I do, Ash?”

  “Try to talk her out of it. I’m calling Jake and we’ll be there as soon as we can. Be careful. See you soon.”

  He hung up and I slid my phone back in my purse and headed back out into the dressing room to try to talk sense into my bestie.

  Addison

  “Please welcome to the stage...Cinnamon!”

  “Remember to video everything,” I said to Dylan and took another shot of Patrón.

  The opening siren of “Cherry Pie” sounded, as if summoning me to the stage.

  “I’m on it,” she promised.

  To Warrant’s shouts of, “Dirty! Rotten! Filthy! Stinkin’ rich!” I strutted onto stage wearing a leopard miniskirt borrowed from Infinity, stilettos borrowed from Diamond, a black boa, and my own bra and panties. I always wore matching underwear...always. There were three poles to choose from, but the center pole was being used when Dylan and I entered the club, and Candy had just come off the one on the right, so I opted for the least vagina-ey one, grateful it just so happened to be the one Greg was sitting in front of.

  “Cinnamon!” someone yelled. “More like CinnaBun!”

  Well, that was rude.

  The song’s chorus blasted through the club as I wrapped my hand around the pole to twirl around it, slipping to my ass...hard. I rolled onto my back and made it look like I’d meant to do that, gyrating my hips as I pushed my tatas together. Greg hooped and hollered, waving a dollar bill at me. I smiled and shook my head, getting to my feet again and dancing around the stage, careful to avoid the groping hands of the bikers. Turning my ass to the crowd like I was shy, I slowly lowered the boa, letting it slide off one shoulder, then the next. As a group of bikers swarmed the stage, I shimmied the skirt off my hips until I was left in my bra, panties, and stilettos.

  I noticed Dylan forcing her way to where Greg stood, with the camera at the ready, so I headed back that way just as my gaze caught on a pair of familiar narrowed blue eyes. They were attached to an angry man, wearing jeans, a T-shirt, motorcycle boots, and the most terrifying scowl I’d ever seen as he stalked toward me.

  “Jake?” I squeaked.

  He obviously couldn’t hear me over the music, but at my recognition, his expression grew even harder, if that was possible.

  I rushed to Greg, knelt in front of him and let him put money in my g-string. Dylan gave me an encouraging nod and I scooted my ass off the stage before Jake could get to me. I heard male voices boo and bellow obscenities as I disappeared behind the curtain.

  “Hey, you’re not done!” Marvin snapped. “Get your ass back out there.”

  “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I have an emergency,” I lied. “Can someone jump in for me for a few?”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” he ground out. “Piss on your own time.”

  “No. You don’t understand. I tried a new Mexican place last night and unless you want re-refried beans on your stage, I’d suggest you let me go.”

  I did an exaggerated potty dance and he let out a string of expletives and waved me toward the dressing room, no doubt wanting me to avoid the public restroom. I headed to the back just as Dylan caught up. We pushed through the doors into the dressing room together. Back here, the music was muted enough that I could almost string two thoughts together.

  “Jake. Shit. We need to get out of here!” I said, opening the locker I’d stuffed my purse into.

  “Jake’s here?” Dylan asked, sounding far too hopeful about his presence.

  I turned on her as his mysterious arrival suddenly made sense. “Yes. Why is Jake here, Dylan? How did he know we’d be here?”

  She had the decency to drop her gaze in shame. “I was worried about you, so I called Asher for backup. Just in case things got out of hand out there. I mean, it’s like you’re so focused on nailing Greg that you didn’t even see all the scary bikers out there, and I was worried about your safety. I still am. Didn’t you hear them freak out when you ran off stage rather than revealing all your goodies? I’m sorry, Addie, but we’re in way over our heads here. We need help.”

  I scowled at my best friend. I couldn’t believe she’d lost faith in me. “I had it under control. I need you to trust me so we can do this job.”

  “I trust your heart. I trust your intelligence. I trust your sense of right and wrong. Today, I’m not so sure about your sense of self-preservation, though. Addie, Asher said this bar is owned by the Spiders. If one of them decides to do something to you, nobody in this place will stop them. I know you’re angry, but I did the right thing here.”

  “We’ll talk about this later.” Still angry, I grabbed the outfit I’d had on when we entered the bar. “While I dress, you need to fix this mess and find us a way out of here that doesn’t involve facing an angry mob of bikers or an angrier Jake.”

  “On it,” Dylan said, snapping to attention. She scurried around the room trying every available door, but when none of them worked, she headed down the hall.

  I had just gotten my skirt on and slipped my feet into my heels when I heard a distant scream, loud enough to cut through the music up front. Fearing that Dylan was in trouble, I grabbed my blouse and ran down the hall. Dylan was standing in front of an open door, watching as two bikers with Spider patches on their backs shoved Candy’s lifeless body into the back of a van.

  As Dylan and I stood frozen in the doorway, one of the guys turned around and looked right at us. Saying something to his accomplice, he reached under his vest and drew a gun.

  “Shit!” Dylan shouted, shoving the door closed as we both dropped down into a crouch.

  Gunshots rang out and bullets slammed into the door, creating little holes of light as they flew over our heads.

  Dylan reached up to lock the door, and then we hurriedly crawled down the hallway back into the dressing room. Oh my god, I couldn’t believe we were getting shot at in a strip club. What kind of alternate universe did we just land in?

  * * *

  Dylan

  “Do you think they’ll follow us?” Addison asked, her chest heaving as she watched the hallway we’d both come from.

  “I don’t know. Let’s go find Jake.”

  �
�No. No Jake. We can do this without him. We’ll find another way out and sneak to my car, and then I can deal with Jake after he’s had some time to cool off.”

  “Addie, I’m pretty sure we just witnessed a kidnapping, or worse. I know you and Jake are going through some stuff right now, but we are in danger.”

  “Yes, you fuckin’ are,” Jake said, marching in with Asher hot on his heels.

  “Jesus, Addie, put on a shirt,” Asher complained, shielding his eyes.

  Jake watched as Addison slid her blouse on and hurriedly buttoned it up. “I heard gunshots,” he said. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Someone banged on the door that led to the stage. I’d locked it when I was looking for an exit.

  “Maybe we should talk about this after we get out of here,” I suggested.

  More pounding on the door. The song ended just in time for us to hear a string of threats about what would happen to Cinnamon if she didn’t get her ass back on the stage.

  A vein throbbed across Jake’s forehead as he nodded. “There’s a back door...”

  “Yep. That’s where the gunshots came from.” I slid closer to Asher, drawing strength from his presence.

  Jake drew his gun, instantly evolving from angry boyfriend to deadly cop. “Which way?”

  Addison and I led Jake and Asher back to the hallway we crawled down. Asher took one look at the bullet-ridden door, swore, and grabbed my hand, squeezing it.

  Jake motioned for us to stay where we were as he crept down the hall. Gun at the ready, he swung open the door and took aim. Nothing was there. The van was gone, as were Candy and the bikers. He waved us forward and we all crept around to the parking lot.

  Addison and I climbed into her Mercedes.

  “I’ll follow you two home,” Asher said, kissing my forehead as he buckled me in.

  I could fasten my own damn seatbelt, but the look on his face told me I needed to let him do this. He closed my door and headed for his car.

  “Thank you for escorting me to my vehicle, but I can make it home without your help,” Addison said as she started her car.