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The club was slow until 10PM when the Midnight Riders crew came in. Same routine as the night before: free shots, strippers crawling all over them, lots of general rowdiness.
I recognized a few of them from last night, including Eddie, the guy with the mustache who had bitched about the liquor.
Benjy was with them, too. He came over and talked to Shelley every 15 minutes like clockwork.
Lou made the rounds, glad-handing the troops and playing the charming devil.
I remembered his mug shot from 20 years ago and thought about how apt that ‘devil’ metaphor actually was.
But as soon as I thought of ‘metaphor’ – If you don’t know what a metaphor is, that’s okay, but… you really should read more – I thought of Jack, and my body was on fire.
I was nervous and turned on and conflicted and excited, all at the same time. The turned-on part was obvious. The nervous part was because I wasn’t sure I could hold out again. He just had this… mojo, for lack of a better word. This sexual power that emanated from him like heat.
I wanted to warm myself against that fire all night long.
And yet… Ali. The photo album. The whole reason I’d come to town.
That was the conflicted part.
The excitement… that was because, deep down… I knew I didn’t even want to hold out until Round Three.
So I kept watching the door nervously, waiting for him to walk in – even hours before he was due.
“Honey, you’re lookin’ at the front door like a preacher’s daughter waitin’ for the travelin’ salesman,” Shelley chirped.
“I’m – I’m expecting somebody,” I stammered.
“Uh-huh. Didn’t get enough last night, huh?” she teased me.
I blushed a little, and was happy for the strip club’s dim lighting. “Nothing happened.”
“Yeah, well, the way you’re lookin’, I wouldn’t bet on nothin’ happenin’ again,” she laughed.
I consciously stopped watching the door after that.
Arlene was pissy and territorial again. I would have gotten up in her face if I was just there to make rent money, but I actually wanted the chance to do recon, so I stuck to serving the Midnight Riders their whiskey and beers.
The strippers gradually warmed to me, though. They started chatting me and Shelley up at the bar when they tired of approaching potential victims (ahem, excuse me, ‘customers’). When Benjy came over and started talking to Shelley, the dancers turned all of their attention on me.
“Hey new girl, how you like it here?”
“Hey new girl, you should strip – you got the body for it.”
“Hey new girl, gimme a diet Coke.”
If I ever did decide to strip, I think my stripper name would be New Girl.
22
Jack walked in about 1AM. My heart leapt in my throat the instant I saw him.
Another person was with him: the blond mechanic from the diner, except now he was wearing motorcycle leathers and jeans. He looked gorgeous, but still had the same stoic expression on his face as the day before.
“Hey,” Jack said with a grin as he approached me.
“Hey yourself,” I said, staying as cool as possible on the outside to disguise the raging fire I felt inside.
The blond guy completely ignored me. “You want anything to drink?” he asked his boss.
