Page 17 of Dancing for the Minotaur

“Now, that's not what I said.”

“It's what you're implying,” Terra said accusingly.

“What I'm saying is that he's a good customer and he's asking for one of my best dancers.” Marty spread his hands. “It's business, Terra. Come on now–help me out.”

There it was again–business. Everything unpleasant at The Doll House eventually came down to that word.

Marty didn't care if some guy grabbed a dancer's ass as long as he bought enough drinks. He didn't care if a VIP customer pushed the boundaries as long as he kept buying private dances. There were rules written on paper, of course, but the rules became surprisingly flexible whenever enough money was involved.

Terra felt a surge of anger.

“I've got enough money right now,” she said. “I don't need his tip.”

That felt good to say and for once, it was true. The money Taurex had given her had paid for the repairs on the Honda and new clothes for both kids and there was even some left in savings. For the first time in months, she wasn't facing an immediate financial emergency.

Marty's eyes narrowed.

“That's great. I'm happy for you,” he said flatly, sounding anything but happy.

“Good. Then tell Orlov to pick somebody else.”

“He doesn't want somebody else,” Marty said.

“That's not my problem.” Terra shrugged again.

“It becomes your problem if you're not willing to take care of customers.” Marty’s voice was verging on an irritated growl.

Terra stared at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Marty rubbed one hand over his bald head.

“Look, I don't want to argue with you. But stage time is limited. I've got plenty of girls who want the good slots—girls who are willing to work with the customers instead of turning them down.”

Terra felt her jaw clench.

“Are you threatening to cut my stage time?”

“Hey, I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to,” Terra snapped.

He shrugged.

“I'm just telling you how this business works.”

Terra stood and put her hands on her hips.

“No, you're telling me that if I don't go into a private room with a guy who won't keep his hands off me, you'll stop letting me earn money on stage.”

Marty looked annoyed.

“Fuck, Terra, don't make it sound like that.”

“How else should I make it sound?” she demanded.

Marty’s face got red.