Nell ruffled up her thick curls, covering the tiny injury. Even if they hadn’t, her hair was so lustrous that most people would be too busy staring at it to notice anything else.
It didn’t come cheap either. Harper had witnessed Nell’s hair routine, and though the results were to die for, she would take that grave option over the numerous steps involved with producing those damn curls.
“See? Good as new.” Nell put on a sweet smile, batting her eyes. Her expression softened from teasing to sincere when she gave Harper a gentle shove. “Go. You don’t need to worry. I’ll just fix my makeup and then I’ll be good as new.”
Her cheery tone didn’t invite argument. And she did seem fine. Harper had seen her when she was actually rattled, and it didn’t involve this level of irritation in her eyes as she started dabbing concealer on her forehead.
“Then you better hurry. Otherwise, I’m stealing all your regulars.” Harper dotted a kiss on Nell’s cheek, getting a playful scowl in return as she ducked out of the breakroom.
Worrying about Nell had been the norm just a year before. She’d needed it then. But all the worry she’d produced needed somewhere else to go, and since Patricia was an expert in deflecting it, Harper made a prime target.
It had been easier when Evie was around. She could shoulder some of the attention. And pinpoint the exact reason someone was acting off. No one could hide anything from Evie.
Harper had to stop at the entrance to the club floor. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing down the pressure that had come dangerously close to producing tears.
She shouldn’t think of Evie. Even though it was hardnotto do so. Most nights Harper had spent in places like the Lucky Penny, she’d had a show of Evie twirling around a pole, playing in her periphery. If there was a stage in the room, Evie had owned it.
Harper took a deep breath, putting on a flirtatious smile as she stepped into the smoke-filled clubroom. Those thoughts couldn’t be entertained if you were looking to earn money, and sheneededmoney.
Going by how empty the place was, finding it would be difficult. But she didn’t back down from a challenge, and if anyone could wring cash out of the sparse clientele, it was pretty little Aurora.
That was something universal about working this scene, regardless of how shitty a location you were in. You learned your strengths and faultsveryquickly, and you had to figure out how to turn them into profitable tools just as fast.
On paper, the work was simple: take off your clothes while men throw bills at you. But anyone could do that. What turned a dancer from eye candy to apex predator was their ability to find the men who would throw themostbills.
Harper looked around, not seeing much unclaimed prey. A man was hiding out in the corner, intent on gawking rather than buying, and a trucker-looking guy was in a nearby booth, staring blankly at nothing. A regular of one of the other girls. Not only would he deny Harper’s advances, but if she tried to go for him anyway, she’d also piss off the woman he’d come to see.
Then Harper spotted potential. A young man in a cheap suit was standing a few feet from the entrance. He was clutchinga beer glass, sneaking a glance whenever a dancer walked by. Shy. Inexperienced.
Perfect.
Opening her robe, she sauntered across the room to stand a few feet from him. She put on a bored expression, pretending to look around and being unimpressed by what she was seeing. When she was sure he had spotted her—and that he was doing more than just glance—she gave him a sweet smile.
“Hey there, handsome.” She moved over next to him, resting her eyes on his lips. “I’m Aurora. What’s your name?”
The man’s eyes had gotten progressively wider as she closed in.
“T-Tyler.”
“Tyler…” She brushed a finger over his arm and leaned closer, bringing her lingerie-covered body only inches from his. “You look tense, Tyler. Sitting with me for a song or two might help you relax.”
“Uh…” He was gawking right at her chest. “I haven’t… I don’t know…”
“First time?”
He nodded. The poor boy was all red in the face.
“I’ll go easy on you,” Harper whispered, taking Tyler’s hand in hers. “Besides, I’m bored. And you look like a lot of fun.”
In reality, Tyler looked like he was about to pass out. But he let himself be pulled away from the wall and towards one of the unclaimed couches.
Harper smirked. It really was too easy sometimes.
Like most dancers, she knew what archetype she presented. She was petite, deceptively sweet-looking, and had mastered the art of sending fuck-me-eyes to people she didn’t find the least bit attractive. Those looks let the man she’d targeted imagine her acting like a wildcat in the bedroom, while her innocentappearance made him believe she was in this line of work for him and him alone.
It was perfect for guys like Tyler. Men who told themselves they were doing a good deed by paying for her company, because now sweet Aurora got to dance for them instead of some other mean man.
As expected, she had Tyler’s attention for longer than ‘a song or two.’ Harper was living proof that strip club ATMs were dangerous, and Tyler made more than one trip to the machine before he left, grinning like an idiot and with his shirt soaked in sweat. She hadn’t done anything more than tease him, but she’d done it effectively enough that it made a dent in her expenses.
