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Chapter 5
Amicia
I didn’t work that day, and I was surprised when I got the call from management asking me to show up at Le Cabaret. It wasn’t to dance, and my paycheck wasn’t due another two weeks, so I had no idea what I was getting into as I walked into the building.
The moment I sauntered in, I spotted Skull, feeling a chill go down my spine. God, please don’t let him notice me. I couldn’t handle another altercation with the brutal bouncer. He’d already shaken me up enough the last time.
But he strode right toward me, stopping me before I could make my way to the changing rooms.
“What do you want?” I hissed, trying to remain calm.
“I want to…” He shifted his weight from one foot to another. The man looked nervous, his stubble growing in on his jaw like I’d never seen it do before. He also had a bruise that had swollen his right eye shut. “I want to apologize.”
“Apologize?” I stared in surprise. “For what?”
“For taking your cash,” he mumbled, pushing an envelope full of bank notes toward me. “It won’t happen again, you’ve got my word.”
“What?” I gave him a critical one-over. He really was in bad shape. “What’s happening here? Is this some kind of joke?”
“No,” he grunted, tight-lipped as I pocketed the cash. I needed it badly, and I wasn’t about to turn him down.
“Well, thanks,” I muttered. “It’s much appreciated, Skull.”
He nodded, sidestepping, and allowing me to pass. Just as I was almost out of earshot, he called out after me. “And good on you, Amicia. For making friends in high places.”
What the hell was he talking about?
***
Capri was waitressing when I walked into Le Cabaret. She kept sneaking glances at me. I knew as well as she did that the auction was that night. I’d already called and planned to be there, but I could still pull out at the last minute. But would I? First, I had a conversation with the boss I still had to sit through.
The boss of Le Cabaret was Pablo Capaldi, an Italian in his mid-fifties who was about as attracted to the dancers at the burlesque club as he was to a block of cheese. His boyfriend Marco lived with him in an expensive penthouse and had been leeching off him for years. Pablo himself was harmless, but Marco fed him dangerous ideas that often got the entire club in trouble.
I knocked on the door of Pablo’s office, and he called me in with a cheery voice. I walked into the room which was in its usual messy state. “You wanted to see me?”
“Ah, yes, Kitty,” he went on with a big grin. Another thing about Pablo—he never called us by our real names. “Come in, come in. Have a seat.”
He poured himself a glass of his favorite rum while I sat down in a seat facing his desk. “How can I help you, Pablo?”
“Ah, straight to business.” He grinned at me, readjusting his toupee. “I like that about you, Kitty, I like it very much.” He downed his glass in one go, wincing at the burn in his throat. “I’m sure you know you’re one of our most popular dancers, Kitty?”
“Your most popular one,” I corrected him, making him chuckle.
“Indeed, indeed, my dear. So, as you can imagine, you’re making us a lot of money. Lots of guests coming in to see you ‘specially. Lots of them ask for you every night. But we can only let you dance four nights a week at most. Gotta keep it a little exclusive, y’know?”
I nodded uncertainly. I didn’t like the overly friendly way in which he spoke. “What do you need from me, Pablo? I have somewhere to be, so get to the point, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, of course.” He slicked back his gelled fake hair and grinned at me again. “Well, I would like to promote you, Kitty.”
“Promote me?” I raised my brows. “How?”
“Well, there is a certain, ah, shall we say—demand—for you, Kitty. As I said, lots of interest. Lots.”
“Interest in private dances?” I interrupted. “Because I already told you, I’m not willing to do that.”
“No, not quite.” He gave me another one of his sleazy grins. “I want you to sleep with them.”
I saw red, but I kept my cool, narrowing my eyes at the seedy character in front of me. “Excuse me, Pablo?”
“You heard me.” His demeanor changed in an instant. He was no longer the friendly man who treated us like little outcast orphans. He was all business now, making it clear this wasn’t a choice. “I will pick the clients. You will sleep with them and receive a percentage of the money.”
“And if I decline?”
“Then today is your last day at Le Cabaret.”
I stood up, feeling so angry I thought I would burst. Pablo didn’t care though. He just stared at me with that leering smile, enjoying this rare moment of having power—over anyone but his little boy toy.
