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And being told that she was fat and old crossed that line.
“Effie?”
She turned and saw a tall woman strutting toward her. This woman could only be Chardonnay. Effie wasn’t sure if that was her real name or her stage name, but she rocked it.
Long, bright red hair fell down her back in waves; her make-up was on-point. She had a generous cleavage and wore a tracksuit in a green velvet that was totally awesome.
“Chardonnay?” she asked.
“Yep.” Chardonnay gave her air kisses. That had been something Effie had never managed to pull off. The last time she’d tried to do that with a friend, she’d ended up whacking her nose so hard that it had bled.
So she stayed still while Chardonnay did her thing.
It was safer that way.
“You two know each other? Figures,” the rude woman muttered.
“I see you’ve met Satan’s mistress,” Chardonnay said.
“Oh, that’s her name? She wouldn’t tell me. She called me fat and old.” Shit. Why had she blurted that out?
Chardonnay glared at the other woman. “You’re such a bitch, Lucy. Why don’t you go sacrifice a goat to the dark gods?”
“You can’t talk to me like that! I’m your boss!”
Was this woman really in charge? That wasn’t good. Dread filled her.
Chardonnay wrapped her arm around Effie’s. “No, you’re not. You’re just on a power trip because you think you’re going to get into Steele’s pants. News flash, he ain’t interested in your pants or any other part of you. Oh, and you’ve got spinach in your teeth!”
There was a screech as Chardonnay led her away.
“Wow, she’s . . . intense,” Effie said, coming up with the kindest word she could think of.
“She’s a bitch is what she is. Hates us dancers because we make more money than she does. And she knows that even if she got up on stage and started stripping, ain’t no one who wants to see what she’s got under her clothes. There’s probably a portal to hell between her legs.”
Effie let out a surprised giggle as Chardonnay winked at her. “Come on, let’s head into the main room. They’ve already started.”
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Pfft, you’re not late. Don’t let Lucy get to you. She’s like that with everyone who isn’t Steele or Grady.”
Steele was the owner, but who was Grady? A manager?
They stepped into what was obviously the main area of the bar. A stage with a long catwalk went out into the middle of the room.
Seating went around the edge of the catwalk, and more chairs with tables were scattered throughout the room. Booths lined two walls.
A long bar took up most of the wall to the left. It was all done in shades of black and red.
Honestly, it was pretty much what she’d expected for a strip bar.
“For some reason, I thought there would be some pink,” she muttered as Chardonnay led her toward the back of the room where a few other women were sitting.
“Wouldn’t that be awesome? But no . . . it was named after the original owner. I don’t think the clients would appreciate a pink overload, anyway.”
Effie nodded as they sat to watch the woman on the stage. She was an okay dancer. Good body. But her face was stony, as if she didn’t want to be here.
“I was kind of freaking out in the parking lot.”
