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1
KENDALL
Iftuitionisgoingto cost twenty-six thousand dollars, I might have to consider working as a dancer instead of a bottle girl.
As I look down at the figure written on my tuition notice, my heart starts sinking in my chest. There is no way that I can come up with twenty-six thousand dollars by July. It’s already May. There’s only a little over seventeen thousand sitting in my bank account, and even earning that much ate up most of my free time.
I feel like I’m going to be sick. I push the burger and fries to the side and take a deep breath. I have to go back out on the floor in a few minutes and I can’t go out looking like my entire world is falling apart.
Even if it is.
Law school is everything that I’ve ever wanted. I’m nearly finished with my first year of graduate school. I’m going to be done soon and then I can spend the summer working as much as possible but it still won’t be enough.
Nine thousand dollars in two months isn’t going to happen. Not with classes for the next three weeks.
I take a deep breath and get rid of my dinner before heading to my locker and tossing the tuition notice inside. I don’t have time to think about that right now. When I get back out on the floor, some very rich men are going to be looking for a bubbly young woman to deliver their drinks.
Pull it together, Kendall. This isn’t the end of the world and you’ve been taking care of yourself for years. You’ll figure this out.
Turning, I look in the mirror by the door and adjust the white silk blouse, making sure it’s properly tucked into the short black skirt.
After another deep breath, I open the door and head back out onto the floor.
The club is busy for a Friday night. There are people dancing in the middle of the club, drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. Bodies move to the pounding beat as strobe lights swirl over them.
I watch as the waitresses try to weave among the crowd to the high-top tables, delivering more food and drinks. Not for the first time, I’m glad that I work bottle service on the VIP floor instead of fighting to get through the people on the dance floor.
My heels click against the faux black marble staircase as I head to the VIP floor. The lights are dim and low, all a hazy white instead of the throbbing rainbow down below.
The scent of expensive cologne fills the air as men in dark suits lounge on couches, looking at the bodies writhing on the floor below.
“Looks like it’s going to be a good night. Table four ordered these,” the bartender says, pushing a tray in my direction.
“Thanks.”
I grab the tray with the cocktail ingredients and head to table four. As I see some of my regulars, the tension in my shoulders starts to ease.
“I was hoping you’d be here tonight,” Colby says, leaning back against the black leather couch and loosening his silk tie. “Are you going to be here Friday too?”
I put the tray on the little bar at the back of their section and start mixing the whisky sours. “Yeah. I’ll be here Friday. Not until later though.”
“Well, I might have to make sure I’m here to get a table.” His smile is one that would break women’s hearts, but I’m not interested in the son of an oil tycoon.
“You better book that soon. I know of a couple others who are booking tables that night.”
Colby raises an eyebrow and pulls out his phone. As I pass out the drinks, he books his table for Friday. Once the men have their drinks, they start talking business. I head back to the little bar, ready to pack up and head to another table for a few minutes.
The bottle of whiskey is open in my hand when a hard body collides with mine.
The amber liquid seeps through my white blouse, putting my torso on display as the bottle falls to the ground and shatters. A hand wraps around my bicep as I teeter on my heels.
“Sorry,” a gruff voice says. Several men near us look over. I hear a chuckle as I look up at the man who managed to dump whiskey all over me.
His apologetic smile makes my heart skip a beat. He’s older than me, his dark eyes piercing as he looks down at me. There’s a dimple in his right cheek that gives him a slightly boyish look despite the closely trimmed beard.
“Are you okay?” he asks, glancing down at my shirt.
I don’t miss the flash of desire in his eyes as I pull my arm out of his grasp. That one look is enough to send butterflies roaring through my stomach.
