She nods.
“Into what?” I growl.
I want the truth. I can’t help without the truth. Her innocence is meant to be protected, not beaten into submission. But if she can’t do the simplest thing and tell me how to fix it, then I can’t be held responsible for how I teach her about submission.
Her jaw works back and forth as if she’s grinding her teeth while she considers her next lie. “Nothing.”
I breathe out in a deep sigh, frustrated that she trusts me so little and acknowledging that it’s something I want from her. But if she won’t tell me, I can’t force her. But I can find out on my own, of course.
Standing, I look over her again. Her hair falls back into her face as her head turns down once more. But I can still see it. That image might be burned into my brain for months to come. It will help me hunt. If she won’t tell me, I’ll find out in my own way. It might cure some of the anger I carry about having my own purity taken from me.
I look around, searching for her replacement. Makeup won’t be able to cover this, and I can’t send her out there looking like a punching bag. “Get your stuff and go home.”
“What?” Finally, her eyes land on mine of her own accord. There’s panic in them.
“You can’t perform like that. I can’t have my customers think we treat our girls like that.” And I can’t stand the thought that someone marred her face. If she’s home, then I can be out hunting. If she’s here, then I’ll stay. I’d rather hunt right now.
“I can’t go home. I need to work.” I shake my head. “Please.”
Her desperation gives me pause as she reaches out and grabs my hand. Her eyes crest with tears, but she blinks them away.
Something happened. Either last night or on her way here. Something that would keep most people from coming into work just hours later. And yet she’s here, pleading to do a job for money.
“Fine.”
Relief floods her eyes as she releases my hand and shrinks back in on herself. I immediately miss the warmth of her hand—a warning bell I ignore for now. If she wants to work, I’ll make sure I can control it.
“But you’re not onstage.” Before she can do more than look at me with an open mouth, I continue. “Get your shit. You just booked yourself a privateevent.”
Chapter 10—Payton
“Stop fidgeting,” he growls next to me as he shifts gears again. He keeps doing that. Growling. Not sure why.
I’ve never driven a car before, let alone learned how to drive a stick. My parents didn’t even own a car. We did everything in Manhattan by either walking there, taking a cab, or riding the subway. I only got a driver’s license because that’s what my friends did at sixteen. We all said we would learn to drive after this showcase or that, so we could go touring and be free to get to a location on our own, but that never happened.
I stuff my hands under my legs and force them not to bounce. When Tommy said I was going to a private event, I didn’t even have time to freak out before he grabbed my arm and escorted me out the back—on working stairs, I might add—and into his car. Well, I assume it’s his since he had the keys. He put me in and then took a call while standing outside.
I have no idea what kind of car this is. It’s nice. The seats are leather, and it smells good. All I really know is that it’s airtight inside, and with the windows up, I couldn’t hear anything he said to the person on the phone, leaving me with no clue what to prepare for.
I have my costume in my bag, a black one, but it’s nothing fancy. There are a few makeup supplies in there, too, but I doubt anything will cover whatever’s on my face. I didn’t even see much of it. I can feel it, though, so I know it’s bad.And from the look on Tommy’s face, it’s not a pretty thing to look at right now.
I can only hope that wherever this place is, it’s dark. And hopefully whoever’s there is drunk, because my dancing skills haven’t improved since the last time. I haven’t had time to really work on them. When I’m not at the club, I’m either sleeping or watching my neighbor’s girls. She’s gone through hell with her divorce, and trying to find a job isn’t easy. And since I don’t want her to wind up being a stripper, or even close to being like me, I shave off a few hours of sleep daily to give her the edge she needs to go out job hunting.
The drive doesn’t take us over the bridge to Manhattan like I expect, so I’m even more surprised when we’re soon pulling inside some type of industrial building. At least that’s what it looks like from the outside. But the second we pull through, I almost feel transported. It might be classified as a garage by anyone’s standards looking at it from outside, but there are four cars along one wall and a closed-off pool on the other side. An indoor ground-level pool. I don’t know why that’s what I’m focused on, but it is. This is New York. Most pools are on top of buildings to get views of things, not inside a building, unless it’s the YMCAor something.
But based on the shine of the cars we pass after we exit, I know there’s nothing but money in this place.
I can only hope that those cars aren’t filled with people who have high expectations for tonight.
I follow close to Tommy. Not only because he seems to know where to go, but the shadows are freaking me out. Truthfully,everythingis freaking me out. I should probably be scared to be alone with him after everything that happened today. I follow him anyway. The changes he’s made to the clubfor everyone’s safety prove he cares. Definitely more than Carl ever did. Not sure why I feel at ease in his space alone other than that, but I don’t question following him into a small elevator and turning my back to him.
If he were going to do something to me, he probably already would have. But from what I’ve seen, he’s about the money. If something is going to affect his bottom line, he gets rid of it. He was willing to immediately drop me from the schedule tonight to not affect the other dancers and his cut. If he wants his full money, then it makes sense that he’ll make sure I do a job tonight and leave here well enough to go back to work tomorrow.
When the doors open, I hold my breath, expecting anything and everything, but I’m greeted by nothing.
Tommy moves past me quickly, and I hesitantly follow, poking my head out first, then taking a few steps off the elevator. The door chimes a second before it closes behind me.
The elevator opened to a small hallway, with a wall to my left and the length of the hall to my right. I listen closely but hear nothing. Walking on the tips of my toes, mostly out of habit and not to keep the noise down, I make my way down the hall and stop at the mouth of it, looking over the vast open floor plan of what appears to be a loft. Multiple industrial windows across from me cover the entire wall down from the living space, with a huge low-back sectional and a six-seat dining room table next to a huge island and kitchen on the back wall. I see another hallway across from the dining room, mirroring the one I just stepped out of, and figure there are more rooms down that way.
