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I knew strippers. I respected them and that’s why I didn’t pay them to dance or pay for sex. I understood the hustle and I knew they worked hard. A lot of girls put themselves through school or provided for their extended families. Hell, some even put themselves through law school or med school, like Tex's old lady, who started out at the club and was now a hotshot lawyer. That was all good and I’d support the girls, but when I paid them, it was to stay the hell away from me.
Now Stevie Wonder was playing, it was like the tunes had upgraded this slum to a hip place to hang out overnight.
"Who you got in the booth tonight?" I asked Tommy
He tapped his cigar in the ashtray in front of me.
“A chick. Some kid from Brook Hill. First chick we’ve ever had. Mandy hired her. Said she was hard up and had great references.” Mandy was the house mother, a smart older lady who’d spent the better part of the nineties grinding on tables at Scores.
“She on your payroll or ours?” We had to keep the numbers accounted for at Tight Ends. Everybody in this biz was a crook or a hustler. If you let anything start to slide, just like Reese fingering titties, the whole organization would come crashing down in a steaming pile of garbage.
“Mav, Mandy hired her. Calm the fuck down. She’s making like busboy wages and still on probation until tomorrow.”
I wasn’t too keen on exploitation on any level. Didn’t like the idea of a girl leaving this place alone after closing either. The DJ was usually last out along with the bar backs and cleaners.
I stumped out my cig in the ashtray. “She know not to post to social media? Did she sign an NDA?” I asked him.
After Stevie, Luther Vandross came pouring out of the speakers.
“You’re uptight as hell, Mav. She’s just a kid. I told you she was still on probation, didn’t sign shit yet. Go fire her if you want to. The next candidate I’ll run by you if it’d make you feel better.” He pointed up to the balcony, and as I turned my head to stare in that direction, I saw a pixie looking girl with fire engine red hair dart in and out of my line of vision.
"How the fuck old is she, Tommy? Thirteen?"
“She’s fucking petite, Mav. What the hell do you want from me? You know I don’t deal with underage girls in here. Go ahead and fire her, I can tell you really want to.”
"Whoa, hold on a second here. This right here is more interest Mav has shown in a girl since, since I don’t know the hell when!" Tex kidded.
“I like music, what can I say,” I told them dryly. I slammed back another two fingers of whiskey Tommy had placed in front of me. I pushed away from the bar and bee-lined for the DJ booth. It had been a while since I’d climbed to the second floor of this club. I didn’t remember when it was, but it didn’t have anything to do with music or girls.
The booth was sound proofed so it was actually quieter inside than the rest of the joint. The door wasn’t locked, usually the DJs kept it bolted so I knocked lightly like a gentleman, after all, this was a gentleman’s club. When she didn’t turn around, I stepped inside unwelcome.
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