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He tried not to think about that—about how many days there were ahead of him. He drew his finger down the ink in Gina's neat handwriting. "Day one, twenty two bucks. Day two, seventeen dollars fifty. Day three…"
"I get the picture." Marco clicked his tongue. "Sounds rough."
"Rough isn't the half of it." Joey shut the ledger with a smack, and threw it back into the safe. He kicked it shut, hearing theclunkas it locked again.
He was going to be stuck here forever.
He was never going to be able to clear his dad's debt.
He was never going to get free.
Joey enviously watched the strippers work their magic on the patrons. Gina was on the prowl; with just a single whisper in a patron's ear, she was soon on her way to the private booths in the back of the club.
Marco followed his gaze. "You thinking about shaking your moneymaker, kid?"
Just as fast as the idea had arisen, it vanished again. Joey snorted and turned back to his work, feeling like he'd just been dunked in cold water. "No-one wants a lap dance from someone like me. I'd probably elbow them in the face."
"Some men like to live dangerously." Marco shot him a wink. "Sounds like you just need a little practice."
Joey's heart thumped hard in his chest. What did that mean? He shot Marco a venomous look, but Marco only looked smug.
Asshole. Cocky, know-it-all asshole.
He thought he knew how to push Joey's buttons, huh?
Well, screw that.
There was something about the challenge in Marco's eyes that made Joey want to prove himself. Maybe it was the need to show he could handle everything that this sleazy world had to throw at him…
Or maybe it was the undeniable attraction he felt towards the man who had dragged him into it.
"Alright," Joey agreed, swallowing hard. "Let's go."
That knocked the smug look off of Marco's face. Whatever came next, that was worth it. "What?" he said, visibly confused.
Joey slid out from behind the bar. "Sasha, could you take over? Thanks." Joey turned back to Marco, and "You said I needed some practice. Well, you're my hiring manager, so you're responsible for proper staff training. Let's go.
"That's not how strip clubs work, kid. This ain't a Mickey D's."
The air of the club was thick and hot, stale and suffocating with the scent of too many people packed into a small space. Joey breathed hard, trying to fight off the sensation that the walls were closing in. "Is your boss going to be happy with seventeen fifty a day, or not?"
"Bold tactic." Marco praised him with a smirk, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. "I like it."
Trying to ignore the incredulous stares of the strippers, Joey led Marco to one of the more secluded private rooms, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The room itself turned out to be small, with seating arranged to one side and a space in front of it. The seats were upholstered in rich, dark leather, inviting guests to sink into their comfort and enjoy the show. To the side was a mp3 player hooked up to a set of speakers, and nothing else.
Well, that made sense. He was supposed to be the star attraction, after all.
As they settled into the dimly lit space, Joey shut the door behind him, cutting off the chatter and noise of the club-goers outside.
"You really think you have something like this in you, kid?" Marco asked. His voice was low, and goosebumps raced over Joey's skin.
"Yeah," Joey confirmed, steeling himself for what was to come. "I do."
With a nod, Marco reclined on the plush seat, his knees spread.
Jesus christ, Joey thought.
