AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yo, Rhiannon!” Cletus called out and stepped up from the lower floor, coming right at me. His smooth muscles bulged under the lights, bringing attention to his warm, chocolate-colored skin. His bald head gleamed as he neared. New York’s most intimidating bouncer and I shared a happy working relationship, and the rules that governed that relationship were simple. No lies, no ass kissing, no bullshit. It worked better than most marriages.
“Yo, Cletus,” I responded, walking in his direction.
Everyone made way for him, backing off. No one wants to be in the path of a six-foot-four Mack truck with guns the size of two-by-fours. He stopped at the bar and asked, “You headed to the gym after this?”
I glanced at Disco, who was undoubtedly listening. “Probably. I missed my set last night. Why do you ask?”
He produced a set of keys. Nothing fancy, just a plain ring surrounded by various scraps of metal that held the power to unlock doors. “Give that to Mike. He’s on tonight.”
“No problem.” I took them and pushed the jangling chain into my skirt pocket. I had to pay my dues anyway, and since Mike owned the joint, it was a win-win.
Cletus returned to the floor and the night picked up. I was thankful for the distraction. I filled drink after drink, order after order, and I loved it. I didn’t want to be in this place any longer than I had to, and Friday and Saturday were the busiest nights of the week. A fast pace made time go by faster.
I was filling a shot of Absolut—focused entirely on work—when I heard Erica snarl, “You fucking skank!”
My chin snapped and I turned toward the sound of a bitch fight in progress. Erica and Lacey were engaged in a heated discussion at the opposite end of the bar. They pointed at each other and exchanged insults. I topped the shot of vodka and plopped the bottle under the counter when Lacey started pulling off her three-inch, red patent leather, fish high heels.
I ran to the lift and tossed the heavy wood aside, shouting, “Cletus!”
Someone yelled as his fingers got smashed beneath the lift, but I didn’t have time to apologize, and I didn’t have time to be courteous. Lacey was barefoot and ready for battle. The clock was ticking.
Oh shit.
There are a few things everyone should know about the women who work in these establishments. They are very savvy. Exotic dancing is a business, and many of them can retire young with sound financial planning. They are excellent actresses. That little show you see up on stage every night is just that—a show. And they scrap. I don’t mean as in going to the local dump to look for spare aluminum. I mean as in they will eat your ass for lunch.
Lacey’s punch came before Erica could take off her shoes. The blow sent the older stripper to the ground. Lacey pounced on top of Erica and straddled her prey. She struck Erica again, landing a solid blow to the woman’s mouth. A crowd started forming around them, intoxicated men cheering them on. I shouldered past the group, forcing my way toward Lacey and Erica. Lacey pulled her arm back, poised to strike another time. I grasped her wrist, holding on tight.
“Cool down,” I commanded softly, not wanting my voice to carry. “Hector’s coming over. You don’t want to lose your job. The bitch isn’t worth it.”
That got her attention. The fight left Lacey’s body. She stood, chest heaving as she drew deep breaths. I let her go, stepped back, and watched Erica’s head slump to the side.
Girlfriend was out cold.
Blood mixed with her lipstick, covering the lower half of her face in blotchy red. She looked like a deranged life-size Joker Barbie doll, complete with bouffant hair, rhinestones and fingernails that made it impossible to scratch certain surfaces.
Cletus picked Erica up and tossed her over his shoulder. Her head flopped as he carried her to the curtains, reminding me of a bobble head doll.
Hector walked over, addressing Lacey. “Mind telling me what happened?”
“I’m tired of her shit. I warned her.” Lacey pouted like the diva I knew her to be, appearing her actual, youthful age for once. “I told her to back off.”
Hector frowned at her for a moment, then his face smoothed and relaxed. The big boss could be an asshole but, for the most part, he was a decent employer. He understood the human condition. As well he should. He profited directly from it.
Hector Fernandez peddled in the most dependable and lucrative of markets—sex. He was all about the good old-fashioned dollar. The expensive suits he always wore, the Mercedes parked outside, and the cash in his bank account were a testament to his success.
He pushed chin-length mahogany hair away from his sublime face, his full lips curving into a thin smile. His Dominican heritage made him a natural ladies’ man. He was handsome, tanned and had an attractive lean build. Women couldn’t stay away from him.
“Consider this strike one,” he warned Lacey, scolding her as if she were a child who had stolen a cookie. “Don’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t,” Lacey promised and leaned over to pick up her heels. She stood tall when she had her shoes in hand, her spine erect and her head held high, and pranced toward the curtains.
“And you, Rhiannon.” His dark eyes turned to me, and I steeled myself for a lecture. “You are supposed to be on the lookout for this very type of transgression. Where were you?”
“Doing my job.” I folded my arms, going on the defense. “I’m the bartender, not the bouncer.”
“Then I suggest you multitask. Or is that too much to ask?”
“Multitask? Do I look like a fucking secretary?” My temper flared before I could bite it back. Erica wasn’t the only one with a big mouth. I was constantly in danger of writing checks my ass couldn’t cash; the bearer a lifelong disease of potty mouth that no amount of soap in this world could properly cleanse.
