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"I wouldn't, if I was you," she said, not unkindly. "Unless you're real good at what you do, the Toscanos will just find you again."
"I'm not real good at anything," Joey said. He exhaled, closing his eyes to get one tiny moment of peace.
This was a nightmare.
"Come on, hon, let's get you moving! That always makes things better."
Joey doubted that, but he let the bouncy young woman take him by the arm and lead him away anyway.
"Next up, the stage," Gina announced, her voice taking on an encouraging quality as she led Joey back into the main area of the club. The pulsating music washed over them, mingling with the seductive sway of the dancers who moved with a hypnotic grace that left Joey.
One of the dancers flipped upside-down, spinning on the bar with her feet in the air. Joey gawked. "I hope no-one's expecting me to do that. I'll break my neck—and anyone unlucky enough to be in the front row when I fall down."
Gina laughed. "I don't know, maybe you'll surprise us! Anyway, here we have the patrons, and here we have the lounge area… and over there are the private booths."
Joey looked over at the black-doored booths. He'd seen one of the male strippers take a patron inside—and from the way the door was still firmly shut, they hadn't come out yet. He swallowed hard. "I hope no-one's expecting me to do that, either…"
This time, Gina's sympathy was a little strained around the edges. "Well, you know where you are, right?" She sighed. "No-one's going to force any of us in there if we really don't wanna go… but we've all got bills to pay."
There was a glimmer of curiosity in her big blue eyes as she looked at Joey's expression. "No-one winds up in a place like this without a reason. Eventually, you do what you've gotta do."
Joey's eyes lingered on the shut door.
"Anyway! Finally, the bar," Gina said, guiding Joey to a long, polished counter that gleamed beneath the dim lights. "This is where you'll be working, according to the bossman. You'll serve drinks, flirt with the customers, and collect tips."
"Got it," Joey murmured, trying to ignore the way his pulse raced at the thought of being so exposed and vulnerable among these strangers.
"Good," Gina replied, her eyes narrowing as she studied him carefully. "Now, let me give you some advice." She leaned in closer, her warm breath tickling Joey's ear as she spoke. "Don't trust anyone too much, hon. You've got that innocent look to you. Some guys like that—a lot."
Joey swallowed hard, struck by the gravity of Gina's words. He knew he had been thrust into an unfamiliar and dangerous environment, but her warnings only served to heighten his fear. "Thanks for the advice," he managed.
As the evening progressed, Joey found himself slowly growing more accustomed to his new surroundings. Under Gina's watchful eye, helping him to find obscure bottles and where everything was kept, he learned to navigate the bar.
Serving drinks? Not that hard.
Engaging in light banter with the straight patrons? Not that hard, either. They were mostly already tipsy, and didn't want much from him other than the opportunity to share their opinions on who had the best tits in the room.
Serving the patrons who had different tastes, though…
"Hey, handsome," a customer called out. "Can I get another whiskey on the rocks, please?"
Joey swallowed hard. "Coming right up," he replied, forcing a smile as he turned to prepare the drink. As he did, there was no escaping the way that the man's eyes roved up and down Joey's body, lingering on him and making him feel like a piece of meat on display.
It was Tom all over again—and worse, in Sinsation, his customers were going to be nothingbutToms, all making Joey feel slimy under their gazes.
But he needed the money… Joey remembered Gina's advice: flirt just enough to keep them interested.
That was easy for Gina to say—she had D-cups! How was an average barista supposed to flirt?!
"Here you go," Joey said, placing the glass in front of the man. He looked up from under his eyelashes. "You enjoy that, okay?"
He cringed even as he heard himself say the words, but it appeared to hit the mark. "Thanks, gorgeous," the man purred, sliding a bill across the counter.
Joey resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead flashed a dazzling smile as he pocketed the money. "Anytime," he replied, sauntering away to attend to another customer.
One bill. It wasn't much, but this was how he was going to earn his freedom: slowly, one bill at a time.
His gaze cut over to the private booths.
