Chapter 1
I t was mid-July in Las Vegas, which meant I actually wanted to be at work. Kind of. The Diamond Club may be one of the sleaziest strip joints in the city, but its air-conditioning was always on full-blast, unlike the ancient unit in the apartment I shared with Rosa, a fellow stripper. We'd been lucky to keep it down to ninety over the Fourth, and it was even worse today.
Now, as I walked through the club to get to the dressing room, I was starting to wonder if the air was even worth it. The heat outside was oppressive and even though it was cool inside, something about the heat made the men behave even worse than usual. It didn't help that some asshole had busted the hinges off of the back exit so that the only way we could keep the door shut was to chain it. That meant we had to come in and leave through the front, giving the men extra time to ogle, comment and try to cop a feel.
“Hey there, pretty thing.” A guy with a thick drawl and a cowboy hat to match pushed himself off of his barstool and into my path.
“I have to get backstage.” I kept my voice professionally polite as I tried to sidestep around his massive bulk.
“Don't be like that.” He grabbed my arm. “Why don't you give me a private dance?” His dark eyes ran over me. “I'd love to see you take it all off.”
“I don't do private dances.” I twisted my arm against his thumb, breaking his grip.
The cowboy grinned at me. “I know the owner. All the girls do private dances for me.”
I glared at him. “Not me.” I'd already compromised myself once by doing a party with Rosa and that turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. Well, that's not true, I reminded myself, twisting the silver necklace Brock mailed me just the other day. It had led me to him, after all.
The cowboy was laughing as I walked away, calling out that he'd talk to his ‘buddy’ and I'd be bending over for him before the end of the night. I ignored him. If everyone who claimed to know the owner actually did, then no one would have to pay for anything.
I barely missed having a beer spilled on me as I tried to avoid a drunk with wandering hands, so by the time I finally made it backstage my mood was foul, even worse than when I’d first arrived. The only saving grace was the nice cool air. No guy wanted to see a girl sweating on stage because it was too hot. I inhaled a huge breath of cool air, hoping it chill my nerves.
“The cowboy tried to get you to give him a private dance?” Rosa grinned at me as I stripped off my tank top and shorts.
I made a sound of disgust. “Who is that douchebag anyway? I haven't seen him before.”
“Bobby Ray.”
I gave her a look.
“Seriously.” She grinned as she zipped up the rubber suit she used for her number. “Bobby Ray from Texas, a cattleman who comes up every six months or so.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her attempt at a southern drawl. “That's an awful lot of information to get about some audience member who's here maybe twice a year.” I buttoned up my too-tight white shirt.
Rosa didn't even bat an eyelash. “He tips good during private shows.” She reached for the mask she wore during the opening number. “Better than those Philadelphia boys.”
I scowled as I picked up my mask. I didn't want to think about the bachelor party. That just made me think about Reed and how I'd thought, for a few shining hours that I was going to be able to leave this place behind. Oh, he'd offered me a way out alright, but it was more Pretty Woman than Cinderella, and I had too much self-respect to do that. I know, I know, I rolled my eyes at myself. Most people wouldn't believe it since I took off my clothes to pay the bills, but there were lines I wouldn't cross.
An annoying little voice in the back of my head whispered Brock’s name but I quickly pushed it away. Brock was different. He asked me to move back to Philadelphia to be with him. He took me to a family dinner. He actually wanted to get to
I t was mid-July in Las Vegas, which meant I actually wanted to be at work. Kind of. The Diamond Club may be one of the sleaziest strip joints in the city, but its air-conditioning was always on full-blast, unlike the ancient unit in the apartment I shared with Rosa, a fellow stripper. We'd been lucky to keep it down to ninety over the Fourth, and it was even worse today.
Now, as I walked through the club to get to the dressing room, I was starting to wonder if the air was even worth it. The heat outside was oppressive and even though it was cool inside, something about the heat made the men behave even worse than usual. It didn't help that some asshole had busted the hinges off of the back exit so that the only way we could keep the door shut was to chain it. That meant we had to come in and leave through the front, giving the men extra time to ogle, comment and try to cop a feel.
“Hey there, pretty thing.” A guy with a thick drawl and a cowboy hat to match pushed himself off of his barstool and into my path.
“I have to get backstage.” I kept my voice professionally polite as I tried to sidestep around his massive bulk.
“Don't be like that.” He grabbed my arm. “Why don't you give me a private dance?” His dark eyes ran over me. “I'd love to see you take it all off.”
“I don't do private dances.” I twisted my arm against his thumb, breaking his grip.
The cowboy grinned at me. “I know the owner. All the girls do private dances for me.”
I glared at him. “Not me.” I'd already compromised myself once by doing a party with Rosa and that turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. Well, that's not true, I reminded myself, twisting the silver necklace Brock mailed me just the other day. It had led me to him, after all.
The cowboy was laughing as I walked away, calling out that he'd talk to his ‘buddy’ and I'd be bending over for him before the end of the night. I ignored him. If everyone who claimed to know the owner actually did, then no one would have to pay for anything.
I barely missed having a beer spilled on me as I tried to avoid a drunk with wandering hands, so by the time I finally made it backstage my mood was foul, even worse than when I’d first arrived. The only saving grace was the nice cool air. No guy wanted to see a girl sweating on stage because it was too hot. I inhaled a huge breath of cool air, hoping it chill my nerves.
“The cowboy tried to get you to give him a private dance?” Rosa grinned at me as I stripped off my tank top and shorts.
I made a sound of disgust. “Who is that douchebag anyway? I haven't seen him before.”
“Bobby Ray.”
I gave her a look.
“Seriously.” She grinned as she zipped up the rubber suit she used for her number. “Bobby Ray from Texas, a cattleman who comes up every six months or so.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her attempt at a southern drawl. “That's an awful lot of information to get about some audience member who's here maybe twice a year.” I buttoned up my too-tight white shirt.
Rosa didn't even bat an eyelash. “He tips good during private shows.” She reached for the mask she wore during the opening number. “Better than those Philadelphia boys.”
I scowled as I picked up my mask. I didn't want to think about the bachelor party. That just made me think about Reed and how I'd thought, for a few shining hours that I was going to be able to leave this place behind. Oh, he'd offered me a way out alright, but it was more Pretty Woman than Cinderella, and I had too much self-respect to do that. I know, I know, I rolled my eyes at myself. Most people wouldn't believe it since I took off my clothes to pay the bills, but there were lines I wouldn't cross.
An annoying little voice in the back of my head whispered Brock’s name but I quickly pushed it away. Brock was different. He asked me to move back to Philadelphia to be with him. He took me to a family dinner. He actually wanted to get to
Similar Books
