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Chapter 3
Grayson
When we walked into theGlass Room, I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t Harlow on stage with a half-naked male stripper grinding on her. Not half-naked, I amended, damn near-nude. He ripped his pants away, leaving his ass-cheeks on display. If I had to bet, I’d definitely say that his dick was likely covered by a small rectangle of fabric.
Above the crowd, I watched as her head turned and her gaze widened when they locked on me. I met her eyes in a flash of half-confused amusement. I couldn’t perceive what my own emotions were telling me. Her look was complete and utter mortification.
Texas bumped against me and stepped back, looking up as he rubbed his nose. “What the hell, man?”
“Take Bellamy somewhere else,” I ordered him.
“What?” Bellamy was still at the front arguing with the ticket person, trying to determine if Harlow had even come here. According to what Texas had been saying as we entered—before I got so distracted—he still didn’t quite believe it. I grabbed his arm and turned, pointing him to the stage. Texas’ eyes widened. “Holy fu—”
“We can’t let Bell see,” I said. “He’ll cause a scene.”
Texas nodded. “I’ll tell him I thought I saw her walk out with the girls or something. Maybe we can check another part of the club. It’s a multi-leveled building...”
“I don’t care,” I said with a shake of my head. “Do what you have to do."
With that, I left him alone to deal with Bell as I headed backstage. There was a short little woman in black pants and a blouse scribbling on her clipboard while she barked orders into the headset attached to the top of her skull.
"Excuse me," I began as I headed for her, "I have to—"
"Oh, thank goodness you're here," she said. "Where's your costume?"
"My what?" I blinked, drawing up short. I stared down at her as she clucked her tongue at me.
"I guess that doesn't matter. Thanks for coming in on short notice—Joseph had to go. Kept throwing up. Anyway. You have the right underwear on, right? I told Damon to tell you—oh, I’m sure you do. You’re a professional. Hurry up and get on stage. Make that girl’s night!” She turned me around and shoved me out through the side curtains and just like that, a spotlight fell on my shocked face.
Harlow damn near choked when she saw I had moved from the floor to the stage and the man now gyrating in her face turned, spotted me, and gave me a small, barely discernible nod as he swerved to the side—bending and dancing as he moved around her.
“What are you doing?” the woman behind me hissed. “Go!” I felt a sharp jab in my spine and stumbled forward.
I heard Harlow’s groan of dismay more than saw it, but when I looked back to her, she had her face covered with both of her hands. I hesitated still, but with the crowd of women looking on and the spotlight heating my back, I gave in and sauntered forward. If she wanted to have a strip show for her bachelorette party, I guess I’d give her one she’d never forget.
