AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But when I walk out of the changing room, headed to Marco to talk about declining private dances, I'm stopped.
“Go change,” Roddy says, standing in front of me.
“What?” The music is loud as I put in a large hoop earring.
“Go change. You’re on the floor today.” His dark glasses cover his eyes, and I know from asking him once that they’re dark so he can watch all the creeps in the crowd without them knowing.
He has much less of a sense of humor than Marco does, which is really saying something.
“Paulie said I go on at 4.” I pull my phone out to check the schedule the sleaze ball texted me earlier this week.
There it is.
Tuesday: 4 pm
“Big Boss says you’re a server today,” he says, tipping his chin to my outfit. He does it respectfully, like he’s just giving me instructions and not eating up the curves on display.
In six weeks, I’ve learned there are two kinds of bouncers here. One respects women and values their job of keeping them safe and the creeps in line. The second is the kind who uses the job as a flex with his buds and might as well be another patron.
“Paulie said I couldn’t be a server,” I say, trying to understand the turn of events. When I originally came in and made my attempt to zero out my dad’s debts in exchange for working for the club, I offered to be waitress, teetering around the club and letting men pinch my ass while I handed them beers.
It was a no-go, and despite absolutely zero experience and atonof bruises along the way, he put me on the pole.
“Boss man said you’re on the floor. No more stage for you,” he says, looking at me pointedly. At least, I think he’s looking at me. Those glasses make it difficult to tell.
“Roddy, I don’t want to get you in trouble. Paulie was very clear—"
“Honey. You listen to me,” he says, moving his sunglasses to his head and removing the earpiece before bending a bit to get closer to my face.
Roddy istall.
Andbig.
Everyone knows he’s just a huge, grumpy teddy bear, but the look in his eyes right now . . .
“The Big Boss gave me an order. That order was to get you off the fuckin’ pole for good. You’re working the floor. Put on a pair of shorts, leave the bikini top. Marco will be by later to give you more information, but this will do for now. You’re probably going to want better shoes moving forward,” he says, eyes moving to the black 6-inch heels. I spent nearly a week in them without stopping when I first got them, practicing how to teeter on them without dying.
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him that Paulie will not be happy, but he speaks before I do. “You know who Big Boss is?” he asks.
I lick my lips, unsure of what the right answer is here.
“The girls have . . . talked.”Junior Carluccio.
“Girls are usually right with their gossip. Paulie doesn’t make the rules here, trust me. You’re on the floor.”
I stare into his eyes, which are a calming chocolate brown, very much on brand for his teddy bear-ness. And then I nod.
“Okay, on the floor.” He nods, and a gentle look of relief comes through him, like he was worried I’d keep fighting him on it.
But really, when I walked in that first day, I was hoping to be a cocktail waitress, smiling and flipping my hair and efficiently serving drinks. I’d done it in college, and while a strip club is miles from a high-end sushi restaurant, I figured I could manage.
But Paulie was very adamant about what he wanted me doing, and that was dancing topless for hundreds of men every night. I wasn't happy, but I still knew it was my in, so I agreed.
But now that I have the opportunity to be a server, I'm going to take it and ask minimal questions. Chances are, Big Boss saw what a shitty dancer I was and decided it was a good business move to get me off the stage.
So I nod instead of arguing with Roddy and head to the bar to learn the ropes.
About three hours later, the crowds are picking up, and a few more girls have come in to start serving too. They’re all in the same uniform of hot shorts and a bikini top, but as Roddy implied, the shoes are different than the dancers. Still heeled, but lower, more stable. Less deadly, for sure. I remind myself to grab a pair from my apartment to add to my rotation, unbearably thankful that the 6-inch heels might just be a thing of the past.
