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Hailey’s nails tugged harder at the sleeve, and her voice dropped. “I don’t ask questions because the less I know the better. But I know two things. Pairs of guys are in and out of Travis’s office two, three times a night, always with some sort of duffel-bag-like satchel. And, the girls give more than lap dances in the private rooms.”
Jo glanced at Arnett—exactly what they’d suspected. “Any idea what’s in the satchels?” she asked.
Hailey raised both palms. “When they come in, I stay away. But I’ve glimpsed stacks and stacks of money. Not the kind you need for changing twenties to singles.”
“And to be clear—the women have sex with customers in the private rooms?” Jo asked.
“No doubt. It’s understood that if you want to strip at Volcano, you’re expected to have sex with Travis’s associates, the guys with the satchels.”
“Just them, not other customers?”
Hailey shrugged. “You can if you want to as long as the house gets its cut. But if you aren’t willing to go with the other guys, your life gets very difficult.”
Jo held up a hand. “Just to be sure I understand. Is that why those men come in, to have sex with the women?”
“No, sorry.” Hailey waved apologetically. “I’m not saying it right. They come in for some other reason, but sometimes they’ll hook up with one of the girls. Like how sometimes when you go out to dinner you get dessert, and sometimes you don’t. The dinner’s the main event.”
Jo’s brows rose. “Got it. And in those cases, the women don’t have the option of declining.”
“Technically they do, but…” A rip appeared in Hailey’s cup sleeve.
“Did any of them come for Madison specifically? Or any other customers?”
“Not really, which surprised me. I’d have expected she’d get a few guys looking for a girlfriend-experience situation because of the wholesome thing she had going on.” Her face screwed up. “There was that one guy, but he wasn’t there for Madison. He always showed up when we had any pregnant dancer.”
Jo leaned in. “You know his name?”
“I don’t. Strictly cash, and he was always in the specialty room. White guy, medium height. Wears a baseball cap and dark glasses, so I didn’t get a good look.”
“Dark glasses inside?” Arnett asked.
“Yup. Some people don’t want to be recognized.” She shrugged.
Jo scrolled up the pictures she’d pulled from Kiernan Wendiss’s and Brad Pratt’s driver’s licenses. “Could it be one of these guys?”
Hailey’s face scrunched up again. “Could be. It’s hard to say.”
“If he comes in again, can you take a closer look? Maybe even snap a picture?”
Fear flared in her eyes. “I can try. But I doubt he’ll be back anytime soon since we don’t have any other pregnant girls right now.”
Jo nodded, and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to have to ask, but I’m assuming you know what happens in the rooms because you’ve had to participate?”
Hailey’s eyes latched on to her. “No, I never wanted to strip. Waitressing at clubs pays really good tips. And also I didn’t want to—” She stopped abruptly.
Jo’s radar went up. “Didn’t want to what?”
She shifted in her chair. “Pay theTravis Tax.”
Jo’s stomach clenched.
Hailey continued. “He says it’s anaudition, that he has to know what he’s selling. It’s only supposed to happen once, but it’s common knowledge that he’ll ask again and if you say no your time’s gonna be hard.”
Jo’s phone buzzed; she ignored it. “Hard how, exactly?”
“If you’re on his good side you get the good time slots and the more vanilla guys. If you’re having a bad day and need a rest, he’ll give you a break. If you need more money, he’ll send more work your way. Otherwise he’ll go out of his way to give you whatever youdon’twant.”
“So why not just go work at another strip club?” Arnett asked.
