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“Hugging the girl before your son? I’m offended,” I muttered, then gave her a grin.
She already had both arms around me. She tugged my head until it lowered enough for her to drop a kiss on my forehead, then she planted more loud smooches on my left cheek, then my right.
“What a fantastic surprise! How long are you two in town?”
“Till the day after tomorrow if that’s cool.”
“Of course it’s cool. We’ll get the bar covered tomorrow night and do something. Have a party maybe. Hey Arch?”
“Sounds good to me, babe.”
“We don’t wanna interrupt your routine,” Gigi said, getting hugged by Arch. “But we wanted to see you guys.”
“What’s the scoop?” Ma asked. “Not goin’ to Sturgis?”
“Most of the club’s gone to the rally. We decided to come here a couple days, then spend some time at Deke’s cabin.”
Arch waved at Tiff, Ma’s assistant manager who was on the other side of the stage, speaking to one of the dancers. “Take over for a bit, will ya, Tiff?” He looked to me and my girl. “What are you two drinking? We’ll grab a booth.”
***
Gigi’s eyes were on Summer, who was working the pole. Her mouth was slack and I found it comical the way she stared.
“She’s so good at that,” she finally said, not taking her eyes off her. “What kind of upper body strength does it take to accomplish that?”
“A whole lot of it,” Ma put in. “I used to be almost that good. Taught that girl. She could already dance when she got here, but I taught her some moves on that pole, and she took it from there and now she’s the best we’ve got.”
“Wow,” Gigi muttered and then took another draw on the straw of her vodka and orange juice.
I was nursing my beer, eyes on my girl rather than on the stage. I’ve always appreciated talent on a pole, other than my mother being that talent, which thankfully wasn’t something she did after she took over managing the place. And I’d seen enough of Summer and the other girls swinging that I didn’t feel the need to watch. I also didn’t feel the need to keep my eyes averted like some of the men here on dates with their women. I always found it funny when I bounced here that couples would come in for a spice-night and it was easy to see who was a newbie at that notion because the men felt too self-conscious to pay any mind to the talent for fear of getting a face-slap from their significant other.
Ma abruptly announced, “I think we oughta take this to the office.”
“Why?” I asked.
“So we can hear one another better. Music’s so loud,” Ma lied.
My head cocked to the side as I studied her.
Arch looked at her questioningly. “Huh? I can hear ‘em just fine.”
“Too noisy. And it’s filling up. Best we leave this booth for paying customers.”
“Don’t sweat it, Fernanda,” Arch waved his hand. “I’ll pay for our drinks.”
“Who manages this joint?” Ma demanded through clenched teeth, her eyes shrewd in a way that I knew was the delivery of a strong message. Arch was missing her point.
My eyes scanned the space knowing my mother had a reason for wanting to move us out of the bar.
There was why. Three girls sitting at a table in the front row, one more than familiar set of eyes focused on me while the other two sets pretended they weren’t looking at me. I hadn’t even clocked her arrival, which wasn’t like me. I’d been too focused on staring at G.
Chelsea had clearly been watching the way I’d been staring at my girlfriend by the stricken look on her face when my eyes landed on her.
She tried to smile. She wiggled her fingers in greeting.
My teeth clenched and my blood started to simmer, heading straight for a rapid boil. My eyes cut to Summer, who was still working the pole, and Summer’s eyes ping-ponged between me and Chelsea.
Why Chels was here now was beyond me, I’d been out for well over a year. This was obviously down to Summer, who withered under my glare.
“What’s goin’ on?” Arch unwisely asked.
Gigi’s eyes moved to me, and they were probing. Nobody could miss the vibe and the fact that so many sets of eyes were on us. Not just Summer’s. Not just Chelsea’s and her friends’ eyes. Also a couple of other dancers and servers who knew the history.
Chelsea wanted me to see her. Chelsea was in a little black strapless dress and wearing the necklace I’d bought for her birthday just months before I went to jail. And I knew from experience that Chelsea had also been sizing Gigi up. Was she working out a plan to figure out how to get rid of her? Why else would she be here? Chelsea got to her feet.
