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Colin glances over at me, and I nod my approval. By all means, I hope he takes this asshole far away before the alcohol gets to my head, and I tell Tripod exactly what I think of him.
“Sure. I’ll call Church and meet you there.”
He nods and smiles my way. “Sounds good. It was nice to meet you, Navy.”
I hold up my beer. “You too.”
“I’ll be quick, okay? Five minutes, tops.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Tigg,” he calls out, gaining the attention of the ginger. “Keep an eye on her. Anything happens, it’s your ass.”
“Gotcha.”
After Colin leaves, Tigger leans over the bar. “Hey, Navy. You’re looking good tonight.”
I blush at the compliment. “Thank you, Tigger.”
The ginger prospect is one of my favorite security guards at the brothel. While most stay in their lane and do their job, Tigger interacts with us, makes us laugh. He’s lighthearted and fun.
“You need anything?”
“Another one of these?” I hold up my bottle.
“You got it.” He turns and grabs another bottle from the fridge before popping the top and setting it in front of me.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” He rests his hands on the bar. “Never seen Rigger bring a girl to a party. You must be special.”
I shrug. “I think he just wanted to show me what the club is like.”
“Or he could be lookin’ for an ol’ lady.”
I laugh at the absurdity. “Definitely not.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Ever since you came around, I haven’t seen him hook up with anyone. And that’s not like him.”
It shouldn’t please me as much as it does to hear that. “Really?”
“Really.” He seems to think better about telling me, though, because he clears his throat and stares me down. “Maybe don’t mention I said anything.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “My lips are sealed.”
His smile tells me he believes me. “If you need anything, just yell.”
While he gets back to work, I look out at the crowd. Now that I’m not being introduced to people, I have some time to take it in.
I’m horribly overdressed compared to the other women, who mostly sport some variation of leather and lace. Some didn’t bother wearing clothes at all and bravely walk around in their underwear. Most of the men have leather cuts, but some don’t, and I wonder what their association with the club is. Are they just here to party? Are they a different type of criminal?
The music amps up, and the lights go dim everywhere, except for a spotlight that shines on a raised stage with a stripper pole in the corner. A woman wearing only a skimpy thong struts out, thrusting her breasts forward. Nudity has lost any shock value for me, but I do admire her big tits. I don’t mind having a smaller chest, but I can appreciate the appeal of a bigger bust.
The crowd gathers, hooting and hollering as she performs. Dollars are tossed while she spins around the pole, then tucked into her panties when she drops to the ground and gyrates. It’s entertaining, but I see the same thing at work.
While Colin’s gone, I watch three different dancers perform and drink just as many beers. My brain feels loopy, and my body is comfortably numb. I’m not a seasoned drinker, but I’d say I’m drunk. I’m alsobored. I scan the crowd, trying to find Colin but come up short. He said five minutes, but it’s been forty, and there’s still no sign of him.
“Tigger,” I call out, and he rushes over. “Do you know where Rigger went?” A thought hits me, and a giggle bubbles out. “Tigger and Rigger. You two rhyme.”
