Four Seconds to Lose
Page 14I think I’d remember that.
“Monday,” I answer with a welcoming pat on his back.
Ben frowns. “Where was I?”
“Shit-faced in Mexico?” I offer, earning another one of Nate’s deep chuckles.
A wide grin splits Ben’s face. “Was I ever!” I see his eyes drift off somewhere in thought—likely to the numerous women he nailed while down there—before his attention comes back to me. “Why the beefed-up security?”
“Teasers is closed indefinitely.” Teasers, a popular but sleazy club with a reputation for welcoming shady clientele, got shut down six weeks ago for running a prostitution ring. Now that clientele is looking for a new place to conduct “business” while receiving lap dances and, unfortunately, judging by the rise in men trying to get through my doors with weapons on them, Penny’s seems to be their preferred locale. Frankly, I’m surprised. This isn’t your typical adult entertainment club. We’re only open in the evenings, and I shut the doors by two a.m. I’ve even started closing on Mondays. That, plus my connections to the police force through Dan Ryder—my former dancer Storm’s fiancé—and my outright refusal to associate with any illicit activity, makes Penny’s an unlikely place for them to congregate.
Ben nods in understanding. “Some idiot tried to come in with a samurai sword strapped to his leg two weeks ago.”
Nate and I both shake our heads in dismay as Cherry’s act comes to a close, earning a boisterous cry of approval from the crowd.
“You need to hire more Asian dancers, Cain,” Ben murmurs. “This crowd loves Asians.”
“They love her, dumbass,” I correct with a wry grin and a shake of my head.
“Yeah. I had customers demanding free drinks and lap dances last night because she wasn’t here,” Nate offers with an incredulous look.
Nate falters with his answer, his steely gaze on a large cowboy whose arm is stretched out over the rail, reaching out to grab Cherry’s ankle, to get her attention. The other bouncers are on him in a second, though, pulling him back. After the attack on Storm three years ago, they all know to toss first, question later. That strung-out guy should never have been in here to begin with. I fired the two bouncers watching the section for that.
Nate finally answers my question. “Fine. Except China and Kinsley were at it again.”
I curse under my breath. “Those two are getting a bit too territorial for Penny’s.” That’s what happens when dancers work here for too long. They start to stake claim to regulars and get testy when someone encroaches on their turf. And China can be especially testy with that sharp tongue of hers. That sharp tongue hides the fact that her father repeatedly assaulted her, physically and sexually. She’s actually quite sensitive when you get under her Teflon exterior. I’ve had my work cut out with that one, helping her through a serious and undiagnosed case of dyslexia. She’s ready to take her GED soon. If I fire her, she’ll end up back in the hands of a slimeball like Rick Cassidy—where I found her to begin with—or some other guy who feeds off vulnerability like a piranha.
That’s the thing with these girls. Yes, some of them are just here to put themselves through college and pay the bills. But many were dealt a really shitty hand that’s left them with no self-esteem, a need for attention, and no idea how else to make their lives work. Even as young as sixteen, I knew my sister Lizzy was headed down that path. In some ways, China reminds me of her.
But I’ll never know how my sister would have turned out because I didn’t save her in time.
Terry the deejay’s voice crackles over the speaker to announce, “Next up is Charlie . . . a new addition to Penny’s. Make sure you give her a warm welcome!”
“New girl?” Ben’s eyes immediately light up.
“Don’t start, you jackass,” I warn with a cutting tone. All of my bouncers know that they’re gone if I catch them screwing the girls. Ben loves this job, so I’m pretty confident that he’s never broken the rules under my roof. But I also know that controlling what he does outside of Penny’s is too dictatorial and just plain impossible. I can only hope that Ben would treat them with some level of respect. Truth be told, if one of these girls could tame this tall blond’s wild side, I think she’d have a happy life ahead of her.
He gives me a shrug. “We haven’t had any new talent here for a while. Things were getting stale.”
A grunt of agreement makes me turn to my left, to find Nate’s normal scowl gone, replaced with the beginnings of a crooked smile.
“I think we could all use a change.” There’s something secretive in that look that I can’t read.
“Is she any good?” Ben asks, adding with a sly smirk, “At dancing, I mean.”
“Sure you did, Morris,” I offer wryly. “Just keep your f**king hands off her.”
Chapter six
CHARLIE
I’m going to puke.
The fact that I can stroll into a hotel room and conduct a sizeable heroin trafficking transaction without my hands shaking doesn’t matter right now.
Right now, as I stand behind a privacy screen in a pair of tiny black boy shorts, my ass cheeks hanging out, and a fitted snap-on vest covering a skimpy hot-pink bikini top—which is only barely covering even more flesh that is about to be exposed to a large crowd of jeering, judging men—my knees feel like they’re about to buckle.
The three shots of tequila I pounded back in the dressing room did absolutely nothing for my nerves. They only made me more queasy.
I’m not sure that I can do this.
“You ready?” a husky voice calls into my ear.
With a startled jump, I turn to find Ginger behind me. I immediately throw my arms around her shoulders, surprising both of us. I’m not a hugger and we’re not really on hugging terms but, clearly, I’m desperate.
She giggles. “Oh, come on. I’m sure this is nothing compared to Vegas, right?”
Sliding my arms away from her, my head bobs up and down and I swallow, releasing the lie smoothly out of my deceitful mouth. “I get bad stage fright. That’s all. It’s my thing.”
With a gentle smile and a squeeze of my biceps, she winks and says, “Well, go spin your thing out there and I’ll cheer you on. I’ve seen you do this. You’ll be fantastic.” She disappears down the steps as the deejay gestures to me.
Thirty seconds.
I take a deep breath and mutter under my breath, “Only a few months of this and then I’m free.”
I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I dropped off that pencil-case-sized bag at a dance studio in Queens—besides a shiny silver Volvo. I mean, Sam was always sending me on little errands. Dry-cleaning, mail pickup, check deposits. I took care of all our grocery shopping. Errands were my way of “earning my keep,” Sam cheerily told me. So when he asked me to drop off a package in the city . . . I dropped off a package.