AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I can’t just run a spaghetti supper or a boyah to raise money.”
“Food is always good,” she said.
“Yeah, but we’re pulling money from a community that can only give so much before their pockets are empty.”
“Better an empty pocket than a burned down house.”
“Is that what you want me to put on the posters?” He laughed and took a drink.
“Then we need to pull people from further out. Our Fourth of July party is starting to bring people from all over.”
“Future planning is good, but that’s three months away and I can only get the guy to hold the truck I found for maybe half that time.”
“Okay, so how short are you?” she asked and could see the numbers rolling in his mind.
“Signing over my salary for two years, plus the money the city pledged, parts cost minus labor Baldy’s donating. A few hundred—”
“That’s not so bad.”
“Thousand, a few hundred thousand. As in I need over a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Not really something you could get a car loan for,” she surmised as he shook his head no.
“There are a few grants out there I’m waiting to hear back from, but even with all that I could see me coming up twenty k short at least.”
“A good night at the Roadside combined we make forty,” she said. “But something tells me the truckers with money from a long haul aren’t going to want to pay to see your sweetness shaking it.”
“Don’t hate, I have some moves, but I’m assuming none of you would be up for tip sharing.”
“Doubtful, but you’re the one who wants the money,” she reasoned as an idea that would call most women from the tri-county area to little old Turnabout. On rides, she’d seen other women spying the men in leather cuts and she had to admit it was more than the leather that women wanted to ride. They might even be able to pull in from Billings or Red Lake. “Dance for it.”
“I’m not dancing for—”
She crossed her arms, not about to be shamed for her profession.
“You’re serious.”
“Trust me, even if I’ve seen more than my fair share out of leathers, I’d still stick a few bills in the G-strings.”
“But women wouldn’t want that would they?”
“Yo, Michele,” she called out to one of the waitresses that wasn’t a dancer on the side who was working on tallying up her ticket. “Settle a debate between Chief and me.”
“Okay,” she said a bit wary as she stepped over to them. “Hit me.”
“How many women do you think would come to the Roadside for an all male revue.”
“As in the club members strip?” She questioned, her face flushing bright from the idea of it all.
“Man boob and ass cheeks. Pole work optional.”
“Um, I’m not sure, if they just walk out and drop trou, not many,” she said.
“See,” Chief pointed out and Porsche held a finger up to silence him.
“But if they dance, do that hip thing, pull a girl up on stage and flip her, shit I’d put my tips in that little pocket pouch.”
Porsche beamed as she turned to face Chief.
