The Player's Club: Scott by Cathy Yardley Page A

earpiece.
    Suddenly, Tina ran out to the door. “Amanda! Thank God. If you hadn’t shown up, I wasn’t going to get paid. Where’s your friend?”
    “He’s right here.” Amanda gestured to Scott.
    Tina was clearly surprised, but she shrugged. “Right now, I’d take you if you were a trained chimp. No offense,” she said quickly. She seemed to be running on adrenaline and nerves. “Rinaldo, they’re with me, and they’re late. I need them in costume and on stage in like ten.”
    “Right, Tina,” the bouncer said with something like an adoring smile. Apparently, the bouncer had a crush on Miss Tina.
    “I can’t believe that worked,” Scott whispered in her ear.
    Tina turned to them. “All right. Amanda, you know about the wigs and outfits…but I really wasn’t expecting a guy. What does he do?”
    What does he do? Amanda blanked…and suddenly felt badly. After all, this was Tina’s livelihood. She couldn’t exactly leave her high and dry. “Um, are we in a cage, or on a stage?”
    “Stage. Good thing, with this crew,” Tina said. “They are a hell of a lot more famous, and more rowdy, than the last guys you danced for. I’d be careful when you’re crossing the floor.”
    “I’ll make sure nobody touches her.” Scott’s voice was rich with menace. Tina nodded with approval, even as Amanda shot him a look of surprise.
    “Do we have a chair?” Amanda asked.
    “I’m sure I can get one. Why?”
    “That’s the act. I’m sort of doing a…er, lap dance. For him,” she improvised.
    Tina’s eyebrows jumped up.
    “Very tasteful, though,” Amanda quickly added.
    Tina sighed. “I swear, from now on, no more big venues. I don’t care how much money they pay. They don’t know how to treat artists. I’ll go get that chair.”
    “A lap dance?” Scott exclaimed, then goggled as she stripped down to her underwear in the room Tina had led them to.
    “It was all I could think of. She’s being nice enough to let you in here. The least you can do is sit on a stage and get entertained,” Amanda explained, hastily sliding the hangers on the rod. “What do you think?” She held up a black bra-and-tap-pants number, and another in leopard print.
    Amanda watched as Scott swallowed. “The, er, black one.”
    “Got it.” She took off her bra, switching it for the black. “Take off your shirt.”
    His smile was hungry. He took his shirt off, reaching for her.
    “No, not yet,” she said with a laugh. “That’s going to be your costume.”
    “What?” He looked down at his chest. He was well-defined…and yummy, she thought, although she’d bet he didn’t see it. “Are you sure?” he asked.
    “It’ll work like gangbusters.”
    “All right. There’s a chair on the stage,” Tina said, wild-eyed. “I need you on stage now. I’ll have a few more girls coming in after all, but I can’t afford an empty stage for long. Can you perform for at least five minutes until I can get the backup dancers on?”
    Amanda gritted her teeth, then nodded. “Sure we can. Right, Scott?”
    “Right,” he said slowly.
    “Then let’s go.”
    Amanda held Scott’s hand as they wove through the drunken revelry. There were people in various states of undress, dancing, drinking and doing God knows what else. She bet a paparazzo would have a field day if he could get a camera in here.
    “They’re mostly smashed,” she told Scott, as Tina led them onto the smallish wooden stage. “Nobody’s going to be paying attention to us.”
    “I hope not,” Scott said, looking pale.
    The music kicked up, and Tina grabbed a mike. “And now, presenting…the Bettie Pages!”
    Amanda felt her stomach roll as a spotlight hit them, and a crowd of several hundred suddenly looked at her and the seated Scott.
    Tina had apparently taken her literally. The song blasting from the high-tech sound system was “Lap Dance” by Pharrell. It had a driving, insane beat, which helped. She did a few dance steps, some of the burlesque