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Porsche’s performance somehow looks languid and sleepy, even though I know how much strength it takes to perform each movement so effortlessly.
“Is she on anything?” I ask Swan.
She tips her head back, her long, wavy hair spilling off her shoulder. “Drugs? No. She’s, uh…high on the vibrations of the universe.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Swan shrugs and taps her fingers together. “She speaks to whatever forces she believes are guiding her.”
What the ever-loving fuck? “Like Shelby and her Tarot cards?”
“No. Not exactly. You’ll see.”
“I’d rather fucking not,” I grumble.
“Don’t be so closed-minded, Dex,” Swan says.
I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. Great, that’s all I need—my employees asking their mystical vibrations if they should work their shifts or not. “Maybe we should set her up with Sparky.”
She widens her eyes with alarm. “I don’t know about that.”
Porsche unwinds her legs and effortlessly slides to the stage, landing on her toes without a sound.
“You two know you already have the job, right?” I shout.
Pepper lands behind her friend with a hard thump.
“Just warming up,” Porsche drawls, lazily sliding off the side of the stage and tiptoeing toward us.
Pepper jumps off the stage and follows.
“Swan showed me one of your videos.” I gesture toward the stage. “But tell me exactly what you need.”
The girls scamper back to the stage like eager kittens, and I reluctantly follow with Swan trailing behind me.
Pepper explains the rigging with the precision of an engineer while Porsche only offers a few sighs and breathy comments here and there. It actually doesn’t seem that complicated. Like some sort of adult monkey bars with a ring in the middle. Whether the building can structurally support that or not is what I’m paying Jasper to figure out.
“Hello!” someone calls out.
Right on time.
Jasper peers around the corner and lifts his hand. “What up, brother?”
I pound down the couple of steps side-stage and shake his hand. “Good to see you.”
Jasper’s a friend of Z’s and helped build most of the houses at the compound. His company just finished construction on Z and Lilly’s place after a long delay.
“RC now, huh?” He lifts his chin at my vest. “Am I building you a house next?”
You don’t have to be an officer to build a house on the club’s property. But that’s not what’s stopping me from answering the question.
Would Emily want to live up there with me? I never had a chance to show her around. She doesn’t want Libby to change schools, that much I know. But construction takes so long, we’d be ready to move in by the time Libby graduates.
“Maybe,” I finally answer.
“You’d move out of the clubhouse?” Swan asks.
I glance down. Hadn’t realized she’d followed me over and was listening in. Her nosy question rubs me wrong, so I ignore it.
I give Jasper an idea of what I need, then turn him over to Pepper and Porsche.
When they return, Jasper’s red-faced and flustered. Guess he doesn’t have strippers fawning over him every day.
If only Z were here for this. He’d razz Jasper to no end.
He starts explaining structural loads and beams to me, but I hold up one hand to stop him. “Get whoever you need in here. I just want to know if it’s possible and will be safe. If not, we’ll move on.”
“Got it.” He nods. We discuss a few more details and he promises to call me later in the week.
“Thank you so much, Dex,” Porsche murmurs.
“No problem.” I glance at the hallway.
“Is it okay if we stay until opening?” Pepper asks. “Swan said we could clean and set up one of the stations in the dressing room.”
It’s not like they can get into too much trouble. The bare minimum’s in the cash register behind the bar. We don’t serve alcohol, so the worst they can do is get a sugar rush from guzzling too much soda.
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
They skip over to the stage, collect their speaker and bags, then head toward the dressing room.
“Keep an eye on them,” I say to Swan in a low voice.
“They’re supposed to help me with something, too.” Her gaze shifts to the side. “You’ll be in your office, right?”
“Yup.”
“I’ll come see you in a bit.”
“Yeah, okay.” She probably wants to give me a roster for tonight.
In my office I sort through a list of invoices waiting for my attention. I’m almost finished when someone taps on the door.
“Come in!” I shout.
Swan steps inside and closes the door, leaning against it for a second.
My gaze slides over her and my brow tightens into a frown. Why’d she change? The glittery, strappy pole shorts and crisscross top look like something she’d wear to practice. The six-inch platform sandals are something she’d wear on stage—not for a casual chat in my office.
“Are you planning to dance tonight?” I ask.
“Do you want me to?”
