Smoke (Archer's Creek Book 5)

by Gemma Weir

  When I’ve eaten it all, I crumple my wrapper into a ball and drop it into the empty bag. Patting my full stomach, I grab my coffee mug and flop back against the couch. I can feel someone’s eyes on me and I look up to find Justin staring at me, his gaze a little smug and full of amusement.

  “So how was your first biker party?” he asks.

  I don’t know what it is, but something about his beautiful face makes me want to wipe that smug grin right off it. He looks nothing like my asshole ex. Greg had been blond-haired and blue-eyed, but the arrogance that exudes from Justin is exactly the same. I’ve been around attractive men my entire life. I have two older brothers who have plenty of good-looking friends. I’ve had boyfriends and so have my sisters. I’m not a stranger to dealing with overly-confident assholes, but this breakup has made my tolerance disappear. It’s probably completely unfair to take out my anger at my ex on Justin or Smoke or whatever his name is, but these types of guys are all the same.

  “Good, thanks.” I say, answering his question with as few words as possible.

  “By the look of your hangover this morning, I’d say it was more than good,” he says with a laugh.

  God when he laughs, he gets dimples. Dimples! How is that fair? I wonder if they were there last night and I just missed them because it was dark.

  “I should get back to my hotel,” I say, now that the fog of my hangover is starting to fade.

  “What? Why?” Rosie asks.

  “Why are you in a hotel?” Justin asks.

  I look from him to Rosie then back to him again. “I live in New York. I’m just here on a two-month contract to a local company.” I say, then look to Rosie. “I don’t have any clothes or anything. I need to get dressed.”

  “What do you do?” Justin asks, his huge arms spilling over the side of the chair he’s sat in.

  “I’m a freelance game designer.”

  “What kind of games?” he asks, looking genuinely interested.

  “First-person RPG mainly.”

  “Anything I would have heard of?”

  “It depends on how many computer games you play,” I reply, then rattle off a few of the games I’ve worked on in the last year.

  “Wow, that’s impressive. Smart and beautiful,” Justin says, then winks at me.

  He winked at me! Seriously, who does that wink actually work on? Definitely not someone as hungover as me, who looks and feels like crap. Scowling at him, I uncurl myself from the couch and stand up. The room starts to spin as soon as my feet touch the floor and I throw out an arm to steady myself.

  “Don’t go,” Rosie whines. “Throw on your jeans and I’ll lend you a shirt. I don’t remember half of last night, so it doesn’t count as a proper catch up.”

  “I should really get back,” I say.

  “No, come on. I haven’t even shown you around the town. Spend the day with me, and one of the guys will drive you back to your hotel later,” she says, pouting adorably and fluttering puppy-dog eyes at me.

  “Okay, fine,” I concede and flop back down onto the couch.

  “Yay,” Rosie cheers, then with an exhale she sinks back into Park’s chest. “So maybe we should have a little nap first, then the tour later.”

  I nod and both guys laugh at us.

  “I gotta get to work,” Justin says, pushing himself up from the chair until he’s yet again filling the entire room with his mammoth body.

  “Any first day nerves?” Rosie asks, sipping from her cup.

  “Nah, it’s not like I haven’t done it all before.” Justin says nonchalantly, but I can hear the edge of doubt under his words.

  “New job?” I ask. As soon as my words are out, I curse myself for my curiosity. I don’t know this guy and have no interest in changing that. From the very little I’ve seen, he’s just like Greg, an overly-confident jerk and I’ve been there and done that. I don’t need another toxic person like that in my life.

  “Sort of, a promotion really,” he says.

  “What do you do?” Why does my mouth keep making words? I don’t care what he does and asking any question to a guy like this will probably make him think I want to fuck him.

  “I was in security. My new job is trainee manager. I’ll take over as full-time manager when Grits leaves.”

  “Grits?” I ask, wondering again where the hell they come up with these godawful nicknames.

  “She’s the manager, but her first grandbaby is on the way, so she wants to give up the club to be there to help out once the baby is here.”

  “What kind of club?” I ask, “Is it in Houston?” Again with the questions. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

  Justin laughs, and out pop his dimples again, but he shakes his head. “No, it’s in the next town over. It’s a strip club.”

  A strip club. Of course it is. “Wow, okay then.”

  “What?” he asks, his dimples fading and his eyes narrowing slightly.

  I’m being a bitch. So what if this guy is incredibly good-looking? He’s not Greg and there’s no real excuse for me to be mean to him, but I just can’t help myself. He works at a strip club and last night he had one girl grinding all over his lap and then later he just walked up to a woman, whispered in her ear and left with her hands all over his ridiculously large chest. I bet he has a girlfriend holed up somewhere too, that has no idea he’s such a manwhore. I hate guys like this.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  He tilts his head and assesses me, but when I look away and concentrate on my cup, he moves past me, leans down and kisses the top of Rosie’s head. “See you guys later. Nice to meet you, Riley.”

  I nod but don’t speak and a moment later I hear the click as the door closes. He’s gone.

  The moment he leaves, I‘m filled with guilt at being a bitch to a guy who has really only been polite and a little flirty with me. I feel bad. I’m not normally a judgmental person. I don’t know Justin and I’m assuming he’s an asshole just because he’s attractive. I hadn’t realized how angry and bitter I still am, but something about that guy just seems to bring all of the hurt out of me. Next time I see him I should apologize. None of this is his fault and despite how I’m behaving toward him, bitch isn’t my usual setting.

  I spend the rest of the day with Rosie and Park. They really are the cutest couple. They show me around the town and then Park borrows the truck he used last night to drive me back into the city.

  “Do you think you’ll look for a short-term rental or just stop in the hotel while you’re here?” Rosie asks as we drive away from Archer’s Creek.

  “I’ll probably just stay at the hotel; it’s easy, and close to the office. Since I got here, I’ve been keeping long hours at work; there’s so much to do and I’m only here for two months. So I’m going in early and working late. I’m not used to keeping office hours, but Dan wants me in the office every day. It’s part of my contract.”

  “Dan’s your boss?” Rosie asks.

  “Yeah, Dan Winters. He’s been really nice so far. He took me to dinner the first two nights I was here, and he asked me again last night, but I said no because I already had plans with you.”

  “Dinner, like a business meal, or dinner like a date?” she asks, her eyes twinkling a little mischievously.

  I feel my cheeks turn pink. “A little of both,” I admit.

  “Has something happened between you guys? Is he hot?” She asks, twisting around in her seat to look at me.

  “Yeah, he’s hot; in a geeky, rich kid way.”

  “So, has anything happened?” she asks again.

  “Err, he kissed me.” I reply, my brow furrowing as I remember my lackluster response to his lips on mine.

  “Was it bad?” she asks as she studies my face.

  “It wasn’t bad…”

  “But it wasn’t good?” she questions.

  Sighing, I glance out of the window at the passing scenery, then back to her. “It was meh.”

  “Oh,” she says.

  “What the fuck
does ‘meh’ mean?” Park asks.

  I laugh at the sound of the word in his accent. “It means that it was just okay; not bad, but not good either.”

  “So are you going to go out with him again?” Rosie asks.

  “I’m not sure I actually agreed to go out with him in the first place. We were at dinner. We talked about work and other random stuff, then when we were getting in the car to leave, he just kissed me.” I say, talking with my hands as I think about him kissing me. There are no butterflies, or anger, just a little surprise and a whole lot of meh.

  “Had he been flirting?” Rosie asks.

  “No. I mean I don’t think he had. If he was flirting it was subtle, not like winking or cheesy compliments,” I say, thinking about Justin’s overtly flirtatious behavior.

  “Is he being a creeper with it?” Park asks, “I can go and have a word if he is.” he says, his eyes finding mine in the rear-view mirror.

  I laugh. “No, he’s not being creepy, but I appreciate the offer.”

  “I understand why you’ve decided to stay in the city, but I wish we had more time to catch up. I’m in the city three days a week, so we could meet for lunch?” Rosie suggests.

  “I usually work straight through lunch, but I’d love to have dinner again one night.”

  “Perfect. I’ll text you once I work out my schedule for the week and maybe you could come back to Archer’s Creek this weekend? There’s a BBQ at the club on Saturday; the food will be amazing,” she says excitedly. “Then you can meet Nikki and maybe even Liv, if Echo lets her out of the house.”

  I wrinkle my brow a little concerned. “Why wouldn’t she be allowed out of the house?”

  “She’s pregnant and her husband Echo is being super caveman protective about her. Something happened when she first came to town and she got hurt, so he’s a little crazy about keeping her safe now, especially when she’s so close to giving birth.”

  I nod. “A BBQ sounds like fun, but maybe not quite as many drinks next time.”

  The club is quiet and empty when I arrive. I’ve been here before it’s opened before, but this morning it feels different, momentous almost. This is my first day as the official trainee manager. I know some people would baulk at adding the trainee to their title, but fuck, I’ll take it and wear it with pride.

  Grits might be a little woman, but she’ll leave behind her some really fucking big shoes to fill. I want to make sure I’m confident I’ve learned everything I need to know before I take off the training wheels title.

  Using my key, I unlock the door and push it open, taking in the smell of too much perfume, mixed with beer and sweat. Yeah boy, that right there is the smell of success. I smile to myself as I close the door behind me, making sure that the lock clicks into place so it can only be opened from outside with a key. I definitely don’t want to be the reason the place gets robbed on my first day as the almost boss.

  Walking through the empty bar, I spot a couple of cleaners on the far side of the room by the stage. One’s cleaning the tables, while the other sweeps up the previous night’s glitter and confetti. I call hello to them, then walk behind the bar and back toward Grits’ office.

  The door is ajar, but I still knock on the frame and wait for her to look up from her desk before I walk in and sit down in a chair. “Morning, boss.”

  “Morning,” she replies. “Good night last night?”

  I shrug, flashing a knowing smile her way.

  “Yeah, I know that look. You better be wrapping that dick of yours. With the amount of pussy you get, it’ll fall off if you’re not taking care of that shit.”

  “No glove, no love, baby,” I say.

  Grits tries to stay stern, then she laughs, shaking her head. “Who was the girl with Park’s old lady? I didn’t recognize her.”

  “She went to college with Rosie; her name’s Riley,” I say with a scowl.

  “You don’t like her?” Grits asks.

  “More like she doesn’t like me.”

  “Why, did you fuck her then never call?” Grits asks with a grin.

  “Nope, but that would make more sense. Only met her last night and she was bitchy as fuck.”

  “Maybe you look like her ex?” Grits offers.

  I don’t know why, but the thought of Riley having an ex that looks like me, pisses me off. A memory of the way she looked last night as she danced pops into my mind. She’s fucking gorgeous and my dick starts to thicken just thinking about how her hips swayed to the music, how they would move if she was riding my dick.

  Shaking off the unwanted image, I concentrate on Grits and my new job. I need to learn everything I can so I can do this job and make her proud. When I told Puck about my promotion and not training with him anymore, he’d been gracious about it all and maybe a little relieved. Perhaps he’d seen how bored and miserable I was after only one day in his cave.

  Either way, I’m all in with this job. I need it and I hope Grits knows that. “So what’s the plan for today, teach?” I ask.

  We spend the next few hours walking through her daily routine, from checking the floats, to receiving orders and managing the girls’ schedules. By opening time, I’m energized and buzzing with all the things I’ve learned about the day to day running of the club that I’d never considered before. The main floor is still quiet, but the place never picks up speed until after the local factories close for the day. A couple of the girls are running new acts and although there aren’t many people here, it’s going over well and I take note that it might be worth moving it to a more prime time next week.

  Unlike normal strip clubs who repeat the same acts each night, at Beavers we have a rotating schedule over a two-week period, and although we have a core group of regular girls that each work four or five nights a week, we also have special acts that perform all over the state and come in once a week or once a fortnight.

  Beavers is, despite the nature of the business and the name of the club, a pretty classy place. We pay the girls well, don’t tolerate anyone with a drug or alcohol addiction, and generally keep a pretty clean business. I’m not stupid enough to be oblivious to the fact that some of the girls turn tricks on the side, but at the end of the day we’re not pimps and this isn’t a brothel. All of the girls here are responsible for their own shit, and really it’s their lives and their bodies so who are we to comment?

  Standing behind the bar, I survey the large space, like a lion scanning its territory. I’ve always liked this place, even the douchebag customers aren’t too bad most of the time.

  “Hey, Smoke.” Lana says as she walks behind the bar, heading to hang up her purse in the small staff room next to Grits’ office.

  “Hey, Lana. The new schedule is up on the board. Let me know if you need to move around any of your shifts if they don’t work with Cordon’s sitter,” I say.

  “Wow, I heard you’d been promoted to the almost bossman, congratulations,” she teases.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m just learning the ropes.”

  “You’re gonna do great,” she says sweetly, pushing up onto her tiptoes and kissing me on the cheek before she passes me and goes into the back.

  I head for backstage to check on the girls who will all start to drift in within the next fifteen minutes. Only a couple of the girls actually start at the time the club opens, then the rest stagger their arrivals so there aren’t ten girls all trying to get ready at the same time and just sitting around. Strippers are generally high maintenance, high strung, and sometimes just plain nightmares, and the best way to prevent cat fights is to make sure that they don’t all have to be in the same place at the same time for long.

  Pushing into the changing rooms, I take in the array of tits and ass on display. These girls are strippers; they don’t care about nudity, and after working here for years I don’t look twice at them either.

  “Ladies,” I say, announcing my arrival.

  A chorus of congratulations hits me as all of the girls move toward me as one. A shower of glitter
is thrown at me and the longest running girl, Candy, presents me with a pink-frosted cupcake.

  “Congratulations, sweetie,” she says, holding the cake out for me to take.

  I laugh, throwing my arm around whoever is curled into my side and smiling widely. “Thanks guys, this is awesome,” I say, lifting the cake to my lips and licking off a big chunk of the frosting.

  “We’re so pleased for you; we all hated the thought of you leaving us,” Heather says. The oldest woman here, she’s only in her mid-thirties. She’s still beautiful, but as demand for her private dances has dwindled, she’s taken on more of a mother hen role. Now she looks after the new girls when they start and helps to choreograph the new routines.

  “Aww, ladies, you’ll make me cry,” I say. “I’m pretty fucking happy to be staying too. That being said, as your new almost boss, I gotta tell you, clubs filling up, you guys need to get ready.”

  My words get a few laughs, a few digs at ordering them around before I’m even a day into my promotion and a few good-natured boos. As I shake the glitter from my hair and carry my pink cupcake in my hand, I smile. I fucking love this place and I’m so glad I don’t have to leave.

  The rest of the night passes quickly, and I love that for once I’m not just the guy paid to look scary. I spend my hours here sorting out issues, helping behind the bar when we have an unexpected surge of customers, and generally being a part of the business. In the past, I’ve tried to help out where I can, but my job was to be alert, to make sure the customers were behaving themselves, and that everyone was keeping their hands off the girls. Tonight, it was fucking amazing to feel like I really contributed to making sure the night was a success.

  Like every other night, I wait for the last customers to leave, then Grits talks me through the end of night routine, showing me the accounting package they use and making me memorize the codes for the safe, where the cash is stored until the next morning when it’s banked.

  “Any more money gone missing?” I ask.