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I took a deep breath looking up to the second floor and seeing a handful of men looking over the railing, watching us. I saw a flash of one of their faces just as he turned and walked away. It looked familiar, and just like that, my curiosity was piqued, and self-preservation went down the drain.
“Fine!” I laughed, throwing my hands in the air.
Dakota leaped off the bar. Cheers going up around us when I caught her in my arms and she laid kisses all over my face. Before I lost my balance and we both ended up in some messy pile on the floor, I placed Dakota on her feet and swatted her on the ass. “Go!”
“I love you, Meyah,” she yelled, and I rolled my eyes as she headed out the back to negotiate with Dave. Hopefully, he’d be happy with the swap considering Dakota was a regular dancer upstairs, and I was well… a virgin, I guess you could say.
Thirty minutes later, Dave was leading me up the back stairs. “I know you’ve got rhythm, at least. It’s like you can’t move from one table to the next without shaking your hips,” Dave joked, and I laughed softly. He was right, I loved music, and I loved to move. When a song was on, if it had a good beat, my hips had a mind of their own.
“So, Dakota seemed to think you’d be okay with the visitors we have tonight,” he noted casually, but he looked at me over his shoulder questioningly.
Dave wasn’t like what I expected him to be. I’ve heard horror stories of girls working at clubs, and the owner being a real fucking creep. Dave, on the other hand, he was playful, but also took our safety and respect seriously. He never got too close and made sure we weren’t doing anything we felt uncomfortable with.
“The bikers?” I questioned, letting him know I’d spotted some of the bikers earlier. “No, they don’t worry me, as long as they keep their hands to themselves.” The tone of my voice was more confident than I felt.
It’s true, being around the bikers didn’t make me feel out of sorts. I learned a long time ago that while it was good to be cautious, most motorcycle clubs no matter how bad, had one major rule and as long as you followed it, you wouldn’t have any issues.
Respect them, they will respect you.
That’s the theory I was going to run with anyway.
I liked dancing.
Being around bikers didn’t stress me out.
This should be a breeze.
I stood with Dave at the rear of the small stage while Anika finished her set. She was this tall Amazon princess who had the most brilliant smile. Not to mention she was an absolute sweetheart. I stood and watched in awe as she owned the stage, the men sitting at the tables around the platform were all smiling and enthralled with her as she shook her hips to the beat and flirted playfully.
There was one table in particular that seemed to be less drawn by her presence. Two club members sat with their backs to me, two men in dark suits sitting opposite them, with deep frowns on their faces. One of the bikers with their back to me was young, his inky hair long and pulled back into a short ponytail. The other was older, his hair white-ish but peppered with gray and by the looks, a full beard that shaded his jaw and upper lip. There was no way in hell he looked frail, though, his shoulders were broad and sturdy, and the part of his bicep which was visible was thick and muscular and covered in old tattoos. The ones that had that weird green tinge and were faded and barely distinguishable.
“Make sure you stop at the end of your set and acknowledge the Club President before you leave the stage,” Dave warned, nodding to where Anika was crouched next to the private table with the four men. She murmured something to him, and he nodded, excusing her.
Dave was encouraging but still skeptical, I could tell by the tenseness in his features. I’d only been working here for two weeks, and that had all been waiting tables. The laws in Arizona had only just changed, so eighteen-year-olds were now allowed to serve alcohol which was perfect for me. I didn’t mind mixing drinks and wiggling my butt a little as I moved between tables to get an extra tip or two
This though? I’m pretty sure this was stepping over my line, but it was only a one-time deal.
It wasn’t like I was looking to permanently dance at the club.
Anika skipped off the stage pulling notes from her skimpy outfit. But they weren’t dollar notes. No, these were twenties and fifties, and there were a hell of a lot of them.
Anika looked up and smiled brightly. “Good luck, Meyah. You’ll do great.”
I couldn’t help but feed into her energy.
Screw it. I seem to be on this rollercoaster ride of doing shit that I know my mom and my family won’t exactly love, so why not add stripper to the damn list.
This would make Ham fucking furious.
The thought boosted me just that little bit further past the point where nerves had the possibility of winning out, and I pushed my shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”
“Anika, do you mind hanging out here for a little bit until Meyah finds her feet,” Dave asked, looking at me seriously. “I don’t mean to put you down, Meyah, but I’ve seen good girls like you get out there for a few minutes and freak out.”
I shrugged, not taking offense to his words at all. Honestly, it was kind of comforting to have Anika there ready to save my ass if I can’t handle it.
“Move about the stage. Smile. Look like you’re having fun,” Anika encouraged. “And don’t forget to pick up the money they toss on the stage.”
Bishop Briggs’ songRiverstarted to play, and I took a deep breath, lifting my chin high as I stepped up onto the stage. Taking each step with the dark electric beat of the music.
