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“You’re the best, Alex.”
“Just doing my job. Congrats, you’re almost divorced.”
Holly walks into the room just as Alex says this and smiles at the news she just heard.
“Four of the best words,” I tell her, slapping the table.
“If I remember correctly,” Holly says, “you said the five best words will be ‘congrats, you ARE officially divorced’?”
“Four is almost five and I’ll take that win for now. Once it’s all final, we can upgrade to are.” Holly laughs, offers me an ‘almost’ congratulations and leaves me with Alex. “Call me if there are any issues with the papers.” Alex nods and continues to gather up her things. “Thanks again, Alex. You have no idea how relieved I am that this is almost over.”
“Probably as relieved as Mr. MacLaine.”
“Poor bastard, I don’t think he’s ever had a client quite like Danica Heard before.”
“I think you might be right,” she agrees with me. “Now, go out and celebrate. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Standing up, I push the chair back and stare down at Alex. “I know, I keep saying it, but thank you.”
“Just doing my job, Kane. It’s why you pay me the big bucks.”
“And a mighty fine job you did.” She stands up and offers me her hand. I place mine in hers but I also pull her in for a hug. Stepping back, I smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Turning on my heel, I exit the boardroom and walk down the corridor and step into the waiting elevator.
Walking through the lobby, I step out onto the busy street, turn left, and start walking. I lose myself amongst the hustle and bustle of the city. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, I drop my head back, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. “I’m free,” I whisper to myself, “I’m fucking free.” That tether to Danica has been removed from around my neck and for the first time in a very long time, I can breathe freely.
Tonight calls for a celebration and I want to do something I normally wouldn’t. When I open my eyes again, they land on a neon sign. Thinking what the hell, I cross the road and walk through the doors of The Nirvana Lounge.
ChapterEight
The club is busy this afternoon, but then again, it’s always busy here because it’s one of the top ten clubs in New York. Tuesdays are generally quiet, being midweekish, so this is highly unusual but the cash boost is always the bonus of a busy day.
I’m in the dressing room in back, getting ready for the second set of my shift when Nicole drops into the seat beside me. She’s all sweaty but she still looks put together and stunning—bitch. I look a sweaty mess when I get off stage. “Ugh, there’s some right royal assholes out there today,” she complains before taking a drink of water to rehydrate.
“Is it a full moon bringing out the crazies?” I ask her. “I ran into a sleazebag when I was coming in, never in my life have I been happy to see Zed.”
“Wow, that’s saying something when you willingly want to be rescued by Zed.”
“I know, right?”
Zed and I briefly dated when I first started coming to hang here while waiting for Nicole to finish a shift. He was a little too intense for my liking so I broke things off, but he was another Seth and didn’t understand no meant no. This was right around the time I was ready to pack it all in and head back to Silverbell with my tail between my legs, but after spending my last twenty bucks on cheap, crappy vodka that night with Nicole, she managed to get me to agree to give dancing here a go. Rhiannon, or Miss Rhi as she prefers to be called, gave me a shot. And I have to say, she is the most amazing boss in the world but her number one rule is, no fraternizing with staff or patrons. So luckily for me, it gave me the out I needed when it came to Zed. The only downside, he’s very overprotective when it comes to me and handsy men. He always conveniently seems to be on break when Miss Sunshine—my stage name—is on and ready to swoop in and rescue me if I need rescuing.
Looking at my reflection, I sadly smile at myself. Deep down, I hate that I’m doing this, but facing up to my family and friends back home regarding my failures would be even harder to face, so I suck it up and dance. I’ve applied for fifty million different marketing positions but they all want someone with experience. How the hell am I meant to get experience if no one is willing to give me a try?
My last interview was at Luxe here in New York with some bitch named Scarlett. I wasn’t too upset to not get that position, but working for Luxe would be a dream come true. I remember Mr. H talking about the CEO, Connor Crawford, one day, saying he runs The Clifton using the same business model as him. It’s probably why The Clifton is always booked out through the summer each and every year.
Like always, when I start thinking about Mr. H, my lady parts start buzzing. Closing my eyes, I gently rock to the dull thud from the stage area in my seat and gently apply pressure to ease the want building between my thighs. FYI, it’s not helping.
Hopefully, I’ll get some relief when I’m up on stage in a few. Whenever out there, it’s always him I imagine I’m dancing for. Makes it feel less dirty if I imagine him and it’s a good way to dance out the tingles and get in my cardio exercise.
“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Nicole pokes my arm, snapping my eyes open and causing that buzzy feeling to immediately dissipate. “You always get this goofy grin on your face when you do.”
“I do not,” I protest, rolling my eyes at her. “And for your information, I was thinking about my next routine—”
“While thinking about him,” she teases. Picking up a hair roller, I throw it at her and stick my tongue out. “You know what they say about people who protest too much?”
“Yeah, that their roommate will smother them with a pillow later this evening.”
Before Nicole and I can continue to tease one another, Miss Rhi sticks her head in. “Miss Sunshine, after you’re done up there,” she flicks her thumb to the stage, “there’s a guy in VIP 3 waiting for you. He literally described you to a T when he listed the attributes he was after.”
