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Suddenly, I’m extremely glad I insist on wearing my mask to dance. Most girls do – except for those that just don’t give a damn.
I try to put Mike out of my mind as I finish my dance. As always, I gyrate and play out on the sad little catwalk-like area they have. I see Mike headed towards me, and I’m thankful the music is fading. I don’t do my normal encore, which usually gets me a lot more cash. Instead, I head back, and the curtain closes. I hear them crying for Angel, but I signal the bouncer no. That curtain needs to stay firmly in place. I grab the money that has been thrown on the stage. Mostly ones and fives. There are a few twenties in there and I’m grateful. The four hundred I won on amateur night doesn’t exactly go far when I’ve got tuition due.
“You going out there for your encore or what?” Freddie growls when I make it backstage.
“Not tonight, I got shit I have to get done tonight,” I tell him. I can tell he doesn’t like my answer. I expect him to fire me. If he does, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. It won’t exactly pay the bills if I work at the local diner in town. Plus, if I worked there, everyone in that damn school would see me. That’s the last thing I need.
“You either dance your encore or you do the private dancing tonight. I’m short a couple of dancers,” he growls.
I give him a hateful look, because we both know he’s not short any dancers. Now I have to figure out exactly what I’m doing here. If I go back out there, Mike will be waiting. I don’t have any doubt about that. If I do the private dancing, he’s liable to show up there. The only bright spot to that is the back room is really dark. The lighting is almost nonexistent.
“I’ll do three dances. That’s it, Freddie, then I have to get out of here. I really do have shit I have to get done.”
“Get your ass in there. I’ll round you up some suckers,” he growls.
He turns around and I stick my tongue out at him. He can’t see it, but it does make me feel marginally better.
“Suck it up. Keep your eye on the money, bitch,” Candi Kane says. Obviously that’s not her real name. She’s one of the women that works here and has been helpful showing me the ropes, though honestly, I don’t think she likes anyone.
There’s one of those signs out front that you can roll where you want it and it lights up. It literally says over thirty gorgeous women to entertain you and two ugly ones. I don’t know that Freddie has thirty girls in his stables. From what I’ve seen that number is much closer to fifteen. I do think he counts Candi Kane as one of the ugly ones he mentions. It’s not that she’s ugly, but her attitude sure makes her seem that way.
“Yeah, I hear you,” I mutter, thinking that my attitude probably isn’t much better. Candi and I may have more in common than either of us realize. Or maybe she does realize it, and that’s why she’s nicer to me than she is to most of the other girls. I take a deep breath and head into the sorry excuse for a dressing room. Angel has three dances to get through. Private dances suck, but they definitely help pay the bills, and it’s like Candi said:
I need to keep my eye on the money.
And my plans for the future. That’s all I can think about.
I definitely can’t think of Mike Huntington.11MikeI settle into the back room of the club and wait. Freddie promised me that Angel would be with me shortly. He said she was on the books for three private dances tonight. I made sure I booked all three. I wasn’t in the mood to share her, so I told Davis to go fuck off.
I figure it’s pretty fucking pathetic, waiting on a stripper to give you lap dances on a Saturday night, but I don’t really give a fuck, either. In fact, I’m looking forward to my private time with Angel. The last time I felt this juiced was when I had Violet pinned against the damn lockers. Which, if you think about it, is kind of pathetic. I’m not giving up on Violet. She’s going to be mine. I just have to find a way to make that happen.
I stretch back on the black velour – yeah, I said velour – couch when I hear the music fire up. This time around the music is just as laid back, but I recognize the bluesy tune even before Marvin Gaye starts singing. I smile. The chick has a sense of humor. If only she knew how bad I’d like to get it on. It’d be fucking amazing to lose myself in a woman right now and forget all the bullshit, especially if I could manage to enjoy it.
