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We get a lot of respectful regulars here, but not all of them are. My eyes trail over the crowd, trying to source out the different energy I’m picking up on.
Marissa is on stage, dancing a slow, sensual number, her hips dipping as she walks slowly around the pole. Her fingers tease up and down the pole as she moves, sending winks and kisses into the crowd. It’s not the pit that’s causing this stone in my stomach. Everyone there is too entranced by the sexy way Marissa twists her body around the pole.
“Torryn, two shots!” A regular calls, tapping his fingers against the bar. I take my eyes off the crowd, leaving my bat tucked safely where it is as I sway over to Rick. He’s a retired cop, lost his wife last year, and now spends most of his nights here.
He can be a bit of dick, but is never mean, and is a pretty generous tipper. I happen to like his no nonsense way of speaking, but when he gets too deep in a bottle, he can be annoying to handle. I pour two shots of vodka as I eye him up and down, evaluating how drunk he is.
“Everything good tonight?” he asks, tossing back the first shot like it’s nothing.
I click my tongue in response, starting his tab with his card. “Something is off. Don’t know what, yet.”
He raises his hands in front of his chest. “Won’t be me tonight, T. Promise. I remember your threats from last week.”
I nod, letting my gaze drift to look over the tables. Most of them are full, but we’ve got three girls walking around the floor. No one looks irritated or too drunk or even like they’re waitingfor help. It’s almost too calm of a night. The calm before the storm.
Rick goes back to his table in the pit and I start grabbing tickets to fill orders, keeping one eye on the floor as I work. In just a couple hours the seating at the bar will be as full as everywhere else in the club, but for now I have a bit of peace.
A few hours pass in the same way, slowly getting busier and louder as the night goes on. What else can you expect on a Saturday night?
The feeling of unease has yet to subside, but nothing has come of it. Rick slinks out of the bar, a definite stagger to his steps. He hands his keys to Reggie at the door before our security guard even has to say a word.
Lucy rushes up to the bar, dropping off a tray of empty shot glasses once she reaches me. Pieces of her blonde hair are falling free of her pigtail braids and she huffs an annoyed breath, trying to blow the hair off her face. She doesn’t seem distressed, but definitely a bit frazzled.
“Eight tequila shots, please,” she orders.
I nod and start pouring and she steps up to the tablet, inputting the order.
“You good?” I check in with her.
Her smile is small when she nods and gives a little shrug. She’s not as seasoned as our other girls on the floor. Younger too. “It’s busy tonight, but I can handle it.”
My eyes flick over to the section she’s running. She’s got a large table of young guys. Early to mid-twenties probably. Been here almost as long as I have been and downing shots just about the whole time.
I finish pouring the last of the latest round. “If your big table starts giving you a hard time, you let me or Alysha know. We’ve got your back.” Alysha has been here almost as long as I have been, she knows how to deal with rowdy crowds.
Her shoulders straighten as she lifts the tray up. “I’ve got it,” she reassures me, but I don’t miss the relief that floods her at my words, the confidence that slowly builds back up in her. Atta girl. I nod, before getting back to the line in front of my bar, getting lost once more in the chaos of mixing drinks and pouring beers.
The whole time, I keep one eye on Lucy and her table. They take the shots no problem, letting her leave without a fuss, but they’re quick to call her back several more times in the span of only fifteen minutes. After the third time, I sigh, catching Alysha’s eye to make sure she can man the bar alone. At her nod, I toss the rag I was using to clean up into the bin and tap on the bar in front of the few men sitting on my side. “Be back, boys. Alysha will help you out, if you need anything.”
Two of the guys just nod their thanks, but my regular raises a brow before turning to see Lucy at the same table once more. He shakes his head in disapproval. “Must be new here,” he mutters. “Don’t cross a bitch with a bat.”
I snort as I lift the bar and come out on the other side. He’s not wrong, but we’ll leave Betty out of this conversation. For now.
Making my way over, I put an extra sway in my hips that draws their eyes away from Lucy and to me. She exhales a breath she was holding when her eyes land on mine. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to lean against my shoulder. “Hey, guys.” I smile. I can’t quite manage sweet even if I wanted to try, so we’ll have to settle with not bitchy. Let them lower their guards for me.
“Hey,” one of the drunk asses coos, making what I’m sure he thinks is a come hither look.
“Is my girl helping you with everything you need?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
One of the other drunk asses rolls his eyes. “She’s a bit of a prude for working in a strip club.”
Lucy flushes and I stand straighter, letting my smile fall and my eyes harden. “She’s a server not a stripper,” I say flatly, dropping any hint of niceties. “You want extra service?” I point to the tables in front of the stage. “Go to the pit. Otherwise, you treat my servers the way you would at any other restaurant. Got it?”
“Why even–” one starts but another one cuts him off. “Sorry, I’ll make sure they leave her alone.”
I tip my fingers in silent thanks and nudge Lucy until she starts moving. I hear more than one mutter of bitch. Too bad for them, I wear that like a badge of honor. Once we’re clear of the table I whisper, “Let Alysha takeover.”
She nods and slips back into work, an extra pep in her step without that table harassing her every two minutes.
