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Fuck, fucking, fuck.
No. I could and would do it.
I had to.
The club itself was huge, with smaller stages off to the sides that only had one stripper pole on each of them, with less tables but more chairs. Maybe for parties?
I mentally shrugged at the thought and turned my attention to the bar that was on the other side of the room where two men in black T-shirt with “Paradise City” written in bold neon yellow across their shoulders were stocking the fridge with beer and other alcohol.
One turned as I crossed toward the bar, and I was happy to see he wasn’t an MC member, but he did look vaguely familiar. In a town as small as Creswell Springs that wasn’t unusual in the least. I served nearly every resident at least once a week at Aggie’s, and those I didn’t, I saw at the one and only supermarket when I did my shopping.
The guy raked his eyes over me, suspicion filling his face. “You gotta be eighteen to be in here and twenty-one to drink.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting back the shot of irritation that always filled me whenever someone automatically assumed I was a teenager. It was just one of the drawbacks of being so short and blonde. One day I would probably welcome that I looked years younger than I really was.
Today was not that day.
Instead of telling him how old I really was, I pulled out my wallet and extracted my ID, showing him that I was over the legal limit to be in the club and that I had been past the age to drink for a few years.
His face cleared, and he gave me a second full-body appraisal; this time with what I thought was a little interest in his eyes. “What brings you here? We don’t open for a few more hours.”
“I’m
looking for your boss,” I told him, putting away my wallet.
He nodded behind him. “She’s in the office back there.”
I looked in the mirror behind him and realized it must have been a one-way window. Well then …
Stepping away from the bar, I headed for the almost invisible outline of the door that led into the office behind the bar. Two steps from it, the door swung inward and a woman in her late thirties stuck her head out.
“I know you.” She spoke in a voice that was both husky and a little shaky, though I didn’t think she was nervous. She looked too confident to be. She stepped back, waving me in.
As I entered the office, which was considerably brighter than the other room, I was brought face-to-face with a possible reason for her voice sounding so off.
She had scars on her makeup free face, as if she had been in a car accident and had been thrown through the windshield. The scars weren’t just on her face, though. With her curly, dirty-blonde hair pulled up into a business-style knot on top of her head, I saw that she had several more on her neck; one right over where I imagined her voice box would have been. It looked deep and very painful.
Closing the door behind me, she moved to the desk where a newer computer was already on and several spreadsheets were up. After spending so many years helping Aggie with supply orders, I could understand the little that I could see. Liquor orders, as well as hand soap and other bathroom supplies.
“You said you know who I am,” I murmured, giving her my full attention as I forced my eyes away from the computer screen. “But I don’t believe I know you.”
I knew her name was Topaz, but only because she was Kelli’s boss. Other than that, I didn’t really know all that much about my roommate’s work life.
She shrugged and leaned back in her chair, crossing her long legs. She was dressed in slacks and a nice top, but for some reason, I could picture her just as comfortable in a bikini, dancing in front of a hundred people. Despite the scars and a few wrinkles that could have easily been hidden under some well-placed makeup, she was very pretty. With the body that her professional attire covered but didn’t disguise, she probably got really good tips when she was on stage.
“Of course I know who you are. You’re Quinn Wilder. Kelli mentions you every now and then, and I’ve seen you around. Girl as pretty as you is hard to forget.” She gave me a tight smile. “What brings you here?”
I clasped my hands together. My plan had seemed so perfect in my head, but now that I was standing there, in front of the person who I needed to agree to it—and hire me—it sounded stupid and more than a little terrifying.
“I need a second job,” I finally found myself telling her. I twisted my fingers together, an old habit from when I was nervous as a kid. “And the only thing I have ever done is wait tables, so I’m not exactly qualified to work in an office or whatever else there is out there …” I broke off, not sure how to go on without insulting her, or even Kelli, for that matter.
“And you thought you would give stripping a shot?” she finished for me with a knowing grin.
Biting my lip, I nodded.
“I would love to hire you, Quinn, but what about the club? I know you’re considered family to some of the brothers.”
Seeing an empty chair in the corner, I crossed to it and sat. “Colt is my best friend, but sometimes, I think he considers himself my father.”
