AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Something catch your interest?"
"It's just… there's guys working here?"
"Hands off—unless you have the money to pay for them."
Joey's cheeks blazed. "That's not what I meant,' he hissed as he stalked after Marco, winding his way through the patrons towards the bar at the back of the club. "It's just… I thought stripclubs were, you know… one or the other."
"Yeah, usually. This place needs to make money, though." Marco lowered his head in towards Joey, speaking loud enough for him to hear over the obnoxious music, but low enough for his voice not to carry. "Most of the crowd are here for titties and pussy. If there's a few guys working as well, they don't even notice. But some of these dirty old men have dirty little secrets, and they're willing to pay through the nose to make their secret fantasies come true…"
Joey looked over at the patrons. It was true—most of them were focused on the woman on stage, or the ones that were working the crowd. But here and there, things were a little different.
As Joey watched, a customer was having a conversation with a young man in short shorts. The stripper took a patron's hand, and with an artificial grin, led him off towards the private rooms at the back of the club.
"Business is business," Marco continued, "and it's my job to keep business flowing."
"You run this place?" Joey's nose wrinkled.
Marco's normal smirk disappeared. "Get that look off your face. It's not exactly the sort of place I'd run if I had the choice. A business is a business, that's all."
He turned away, but not before Joey saw the look in his eyes—something far-off and dreamy.
Those were not exactly characteristics he would've expected to find in a tough asshole like Marco. Joey couldn't help but stare at the back of Marco's head as Marco led him through the club, wondering what was going on inside his thoughts.
Besides, it was best to keep his eyes on Marco. If he did, he didn't see the way the eyes of some of the male patrons were on him, undressing him with every step he took.
"Alright, here we are," Marco said once they reached the bar, gesturing around the dark club. "Welcome to Sinsation. You'll be serving drinks here."
"Drinks?" Joey's voice cracked, his nerves betraying him. The smell of sweat and cheap cologne invaded his nostrils, making it hard to breathe. He didn't belong in this world.
"Relax, kid." Marco smirked, clearly enjoying Joey's discomfort. "It ain't rocket science. If you can pour coffee, you can pour whiskey."
It wasn't adding up. "How the hell am I supposed to make—" Joey looked at the nearby customers, and leaned in to whisper. "How am I supposed to make sixty thousand dollarsworking the bar at a stripclub?"
Marco's eyes narrowed. "The same as how any of the girls make it here. Some of the guys will tip you well if you play your cards right." Marco's gaze slid down Joey's body, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "And if they ask for something other than booze… Well, that's up to you—and how quick you want that debt to disappear."
A cold dread twisted in Joey's stomach. "I thought you said…"
"You thought I said what?"
Joey swallowed hard. "That you wouldn't use my body."
"I'm not going to. You'llhave to begmefor that, remember?" Marco smirked his infuriating smirk. But then he looked off over the messy crowd, and his expression turned more professional. "But you need that debt gone. How you get rid of it is up to you. But remember: interest is a killer."
He gestured towards the bar. "Come on. Show me what you got."
With dread, Joey stepped into place, feeling exposed and vulnerable. What Marco had said was true—he needed to get rid of that debt.
Once he'd got his dad out of this whole mess with the Toscanos, he'd grab the old man and run. Somehow, he'd make sure that his dad got out of this whole cycle. He'd force him to give up gambling for good, and then… and then… and then you could be a normal family.
He had to.
But at what cost? The way Marco, sitting down on a barstool across from him, looked at him sent shivers down his spine.
"Bourbon, neat," Marco commanded, his voice low. "That means no ice."
"Yeah, I know that much," Joey blustered, trying to muster up some courage. He glanced around at the male patrons—some of whom eyed him hungrily. Fear gripped his stomach like a vice.
Despite his trepidation, he knew he had no choice but to dive into this unfamiliar world headfirst.
