“Here’s your shot, sir.” The waitress returns in record time, and her confused stare disappears when she gets another tip.
“Keep them coming.” I motion to Jack’s glass.
“Yes, sir.” She nods immediately. “Let me make my rounds, and I’ll be right back.”
“Nice.” Jack watches her ass as she walks to the next table. “I wonder if I can get a lap dance from her.”
“Probably,” I say with a slight shrug.
The DJ lets us know that it’s time for the next performer to take the stage as Jack downs his shot. I haven’t paid much attention to the action, but my eyes are drawn to the girl introduced as Lavender Rose. She doesn’t look like the rest of them—the ones who obviously lived hard lives before they found themselves in a place like this. She’s gorgeous, flawless, absolutely stunning.
Lavender Rose is dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl, and she’s timid enough to make it believable, but no fucking schoolgirl has curves like that. Her wig is the color of her first name—her stage name at least—and it hangs around her face in a way that makes it difficult to make out her features. Maybe that’s intentional.
The waitress returns with another shot, and Jack downs it without blinking.
“I’m starting to feel it, bro.” Jack breaks his stare away from Lavender Rose. “How about you?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nod without taking my eyes off the stage. “We can leave right after she’s done.”
There’s something familiar about Lavender Rose. I can’t put my finger on it, but the way she moves—the outline of her face beneath the shadow of the wig—it’s like a memory that I can’t pull to the surface. The music and the whiskey aren’t helping. One is too loud, and the other went down too fast because I was so frustrated with having to babysit Jack. If they weren’t enough, Lavender Rose starts the money part of her routine, and my cock throbs in in my pants.
I’m no better than the rest of them. Mesmerized by the sway of her hips, teased by the thought of her panties on the stage beside her bra, and overwhelmed by the sight of her curves when they’re finally on full display. I lean forward, and my hand stretches out. She walks closer, and our eyes meet.
“Oh shit.” The startling realization shoots through me like needles that prick every nerve. “Kiana!?”
She recognizes me. I recognize her. I feel instantly ashamed of myself for staring, for the tightness in my pants, for even being at the club in the first place.
“Come on, Jack. It’s time to go.” I push my chair back and stand up as Kiana stares like a deer caught in the headlights.
“She’s not done…” Jack protests, but a firm grip on his arm convinces him that I’m serious. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re leaving.” I look away from Kiana and walk to the door. I let go of Jack once he has enough momentum not to change his mind.
Jack is so drunk that he doesn’t seem to care that I insisted we should go. He gets distracted the instant we’re outside. I pull out my phone to tell my driver that it’s time for him to pick us up, and I notice my hand is shaking. I don’t know how to process what I just saw.
The girl on the stage? Lavender Rose? I know her by another name—the name she was given the day she was born. Kiana Brooks. She’s my best friend’s daughter. I still call him my best friend. I’m not sure if we actually are. It’s been a while since we’ve spoke, and our last conversation wasn’t exactly pleasant.
Still, that was his daughter on the stage, taking off her clothes and begging for money in the seediest place I’ve ever set foot in.
Does he know?
He can’t know…
Fuck.
“Hey, I know you!” Jack interrupts my train of thought with a joyful greeting the second my driver, Lewis, steps out of the car. “Bro, what’s up?”
“Yes, he’s our ride,” I growl and point to the door.
The vodka hit Jack the way I hoped it would. I’ve just got more on my mind now than babysitting the world’s oldest toddler. I need to put him to bed so I can try to wrap my head around this.
“The hotel.” I nod to Lewis and motion to Jack. “We’re dropping him off.”
“Yes, sir,” he says with an understanding tone in his voice.
Kiana’s father is Lawson Brooks. We used to be closer than brothers. That’s what happens when you spend a few years in the desert with your life on the line every single day. We ended our tour of duty with a new plan, one that didn’t involve an M16 or stepping over landmines in Afghanistan.
Lawson was the one with the business plan. I just provided the capital. I learned from him, but not enough to keep things going after he decided it was time to cash out. Maybe I should have shut the company down, but I was stubborn. By the time I had a good handle on things, I was out of money.
“Oh, hey…” Jack blinks like he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. “I’m supposed to write you a check.”
“Yes.” I nod. “Do you need a pen?”
The only thing I should be focusing on right now is Kiana and Lawson; fuck—that’s his daughter. But Jack’s money will save my company.
So, I’ll act like a businessman right now.
Lawson always said I didn’t understand priorities. I didn’t focus on business when it was time for things to get serious. I wonder how he would feel if he was here right now.
I bet he wouldn’t give a fuck about business.
Chapter Three
Kiana
I’m practically hyperventilating when I get back to the dressing room.
I saw a familiar face. Not just any familiar face. Bram Ward. My father’s best friend. Well, he used to be. I don’t know how long it’s been since they’ve talked.
I never thought Bram would be the kind of guy who would come to a place like this. He always had a girlfriend, rarely the same one between visits. I had a crush on him when I was younger. I always wondered what it would be like to be the woman on his arm, but those were the fantasies of a teenage girl.
I didn’t live out my fantasy tonight.
I danced my way straight into a nightmare.
I want to vomit. For the first time in a week. I was just getting used to taking the stage without battling nausea the entire time.
My stomach feels worse than it ever has right now.
“Are you okay, Kiana?” Rhonda walks into my dressing room with a look of concern on her face. “Did you see someone you know out there?”
“Yeah.” I follow my response with a nod, and what color is left in my face begins to drain. “One of my father’s friends…”
“It happens.” She sits down and puts an arm around me. “Probably won’t be the last time either. I’ve had my share of ghosts in the audience—people I never wanted to see me on a stage.”
“You seem to really love it out there,” I say with a sigh.
“Not always,” she replies and shakes her head. “It does get easier, though. If you stick with it. God made you beautiful. People are going to stare whether you walk down the street or dance on a stage. At least this way you get paid for those dirty thoughts.”
“That’s one way of thinking about it, I suppose.” Another sigh passes my lips.
Rhonda has a way of making me feel better. She’s done that almost every single night. She’s a lot more comforting than Max. He’ll be in my dressing room any minute to tell me that I need to get out on the floor and serve drinks. I don’t really have a choice. Hopefully, Bram will be gone by then.
I don’t want him to ask questions I’m not ready to answer.
But that may be the least of my worries.
What if he calls my father?
“Kiana, get your ass out there. People are asking for you.” Max appears at my door and snaps his fingers at me.
“Yes, sir.” I check my makeup one more time before I stand up.
They’re asking for me, but they won’t get what they want. Max still hasn’t given me permission to take anyone behind the curtain for a
lap dance. I’m not sure why. I was scared of doing it the first few nights, but after seeing how much money the girls who dance make, I’ve become rather numb to the idea.
The faster I pay my brother’s debt, the faster this will be over. The faster I can get on with my life.
I walk into the main part of the club one sheepish step at a time with my eyes peeled. Bram’s table is empty. Someone is already cleaning it off. I scan the room and don’t see him. That’s the best outcome I could hope for in the moment. If he calls my father, I’ll have to deal with that later. For now, I have work to do.
“Bill just asked for a fresh drink.” The bartender, Steve, puts a glass of bourbon down in front of me. “He asked for you to deliver it.”
“Okay…” I sigh and reach for the drink.
Bill. He still wants his lap dance. Max told he would take it into consideration when the time is right. I’m not even sure if I’m opposed to the idea anymore. A week ago, I thought Bill was rather revolting. I’ve come to realize that the regulars treat all of the girls better than the random people that stumble in. The regulars don’t want to be asked to leave. They’re respectful enough to make sure that doesn’t happen.
“I hear you were asking for me.” I walk up to Bill’s table and put his drink down.
“I sure was.” He looks up at me and smiles. “The drinks are always better when you bring them.”
“Aw, thank you.” I force the biggest smile I can put on my face.
“Still not dancing”—he motions to the curtains—“back there?”
“No, not yet.” I shake my head. “I haven’t forgotten what you said; I’ll let you know.”
The conversation with Bill is brief. I might be his new favorite, but I don’t have much to offer if he can’t take me behind the curtain. The other girls on the stage are more interesting until then.
My thoughts are still spinning after seeing Bram. I really don’t know how it is going to play out. He may keep my secret, or he could have already called my father. He could come charging through the door at any minute with more disappointment in his eyes than he’s ever had for me, and that’s saying a lot considering our history.
I spend the rest of my evening delivering drinks, pretending to enjoy salacious, dirty comments, and being a tease to everyone who notices me. I’ve learned to mimic what the other girls do. They probably learned from the ones who were there before them. One long lineage of devious grins, batted eyelashes, and short skirts that hide what they’ve already seen.
“You should stick around tonight.” Rhonda walks up to me as I’m making my way back to the dressing room. “Max is throwing a party after we close.”
“Oh?” I give her a surprised look. “He does that?”
“Sometimes.” She smiles and nods. “We had a good week. You were part of it. It’s your party too.”
“I’ll think about it.” I wave and continue walking to my dressing room.
A party. I haven’t been to many of those. I had plenty of opportunities to disappoint my parents without coming home late with alcohol on my breath.
It feels weird to get absorbed into the culture of the club, but I can tell that it’s happening. It’s becoming routine. If my guard is lowering after a week, what will it be like in a month? In three months? What about when I finally have enough money to pay off my brother’s debt?
I really shouldn’t stay. I should count my money and go back to my apartment. But it’s been a long week. I could use a drink, especially after seeing Bram in the crowd. Instead of slipping out when I’m allowed to, I linger in my dressing room until the club starts closing down. I’m hardly recognizable in my regular attire—to people that only know me as Lavender Rose, at least. The last few customers don’t even give me a second look when I walk back out to the main part of the club.
“Are you staying?” Will, the bouncer that normally watches the back door, looks over at me when I walk to the bar.
“Yeah, I think I’ll have a drink.” I smile and sit down.
“There’s going to be a lot more than alcohol on the menu tonight.” He chuckles under his breath and pulls a bag filled with white powder out of his pocket. “Want some?”
“Uh, no—no, thank you.” I quickly hold up my hand and decline his offer for what I assume is cocaine.
Steve pours me a drink. Wine. The hardest thing I’ve ever had except for that one time at a party when I tried a shot of vodka. I’m a lightweight. I found that out a long time ago. The glass of wine will give me a buzz, and I’ll need someone to walk me to a cab if I have two.
Will is right. The party isn’t a social gathering to have a few drinks. There are drugs. There are dancers teasing bouncers. Rhonda is having a discussion with Max that seems to be leading to a trip behind the curtain for something other than a lap dance. I’m out of my element. I can count the number of times I’ve been drunk on one hand. I don’t need a single finger to count the number of times I’ve done drugs.
I watch everything. I feel like a voyeur witnessing something taboo and forbidden, but it isn’t. It’s everyday life for my co-workers, my boss—the world I walked into willingly because it was the best route to a financial solution.
“I think I’m going to call it a night,” I say to nobody in particular. “I need to get some sleep.”
I’m ignored. I assume I’m pretty boring to them. I’m not partaking in anything interesting. They don’t notice when I leave my glass of wine on the counter and head for the door. Will normally watches me until I’m out of sight when I leave the club, but he’s too busy with drugs and the stripper who is showing him the kind of attention he’s looking for.
The city is dangerous, but my route home isn’t that bad. I normally walk to the bus stop, and there is a stop pretty close to my apartment. Something feels off. Almost like the spidey-sense my brother used to talk about when he was younger, when comic books were more interesting than gambling more money than he had in his pocket.
“Kiana.” A voice nearly makes me jump out of my shoes, but I recognize it before I freak out.
“Mr. Diaz.” I turn toward the older Hispanic man who steps into the light that surrounds the bus stop.
“I believe your next payment is due.” He narrows his eyes, and if I didn’t know any better, I would swear that the hazel in them was glowing red.
“I…” My hand moves to my purse. “I have it… I was going to bring it to you tomorrow.”
“Lucky for you.” He takes a step forward. “I was in the neighborhood.”
My blood is ice cold and molten at the same time. I fumble with my purse and pull out the money Max gave me at the end of my shift. I’m not brave enough to count it. I just use it like a shield, bait that keeps Mr. Diaz from taking another step toward me.
“Good girl.” His finger slides along my knuckles before he pulls his hand away. “I hear you’re quite popular at Max’s club.”
“Am I?” I ask, but it’s hardly a question.
“I knew you would be.” He laughs under his breath. “That’s why I suggested it in the first place.”
I don’t know how to respond. I’m at his mercy, and I just want him to be satisfied with my payment and walk away. The bus approaches, and Mr. Diaz gives me a nod—permission to leave. I scurry toward my bus so fast I almost trip over my own two feet. I’d prefer to meet Mr. Diaz in the daylight. He’s scary enough without the cover of darkness that somehow makes him even more sinister than he already is.
I’ve bought my brother another day. That’s what truly matters.
I need to make sure Bram doesn’t call my father. I don’t know how to get in touch with him, but I have to try something.
Even if I have to tell him the truth about why he saw me on that stage.
Chapter Four
Bram
One hand lingers on my phone. The other holds my whiskey. I’ve been stuck in this position since I got back to my house. One quick tap with my finger will call Kiana’s father, but I don’t k
now if I’m ready to have that conversation.
There’s so much we would have to talk about before I would be able to tell him the real reason I’m calling. We haven’t spoken since the day he asked me to buy his stake in the company. I don’t know if his intention was to sever our friendship in the process, but it sure as fuck felt like it.
The worst part was that he didn’t even tell me why he wanted to cash out. Things were going smoothly, and we were making money, but not nearly enough to buy his share. I could have made my exit as well and sold the company outright, but it didn’t feel right to abandon all of the people who trusted us with their livelihood.
No man left behind. Our philosophy in the desert. He let go of it. I didn’t.
How do I tell him that my first call in five years is because I saw his baby girl taking her clothes off for money?
What if he already knows?
“Fuck it.” I down my whiskey and toss my phone on the counter.
I’d rather just drink.
I wake up the next morning with a hint of a headache, and I barely get a moment of peace before I remember why I had more to drink than usual.
Kiana.
Sweet little Kiana who used to sheepishly watch me when I would come to visit, always around the corner where she thought nobody could see her. She was nothing more than a teenager with a crush back then who got upset every time I brought my girlfriend with me. It was comical in a way. Completely harmless.
I never expected to see her on a stage, six years later, with curves that made my dick throb before I realized who they belonged to.
Thinking of her like that makes me ill. Or maybe it’s just the whiskey that still hasn’t left my system. I feel like a scumbag for not knowing which one it is.
Daddy's Possessive Friend (Once Upon a Daddy Book 12) Page 2
