by Nikki Ash
“Have a good night at work.”
“Thanks! And don’t let Tristan stay up past nine, please. It’s a school night, even if school is almost over!” she yells as she flies out the door.
“Who do you want to win the finals?” I ask Tristan as I go back to folding the laundry, throwing some of his clothes at him to fold.
“I guess Cleveland,” he says, not really caring since his world revolves around the UFC.
“Ugh… C’mon, kid. Don’t jump on that bandwagon!” I groan.
“Whatever… Can we play UFC on the PlayStation?”
I look at the game, seeing that Cleveland is destroying Atlanta. It will most likely be a complete blowout.
“Sure, why not?”
“Yes!” He fist pumps into the air before running to the PlayStation to set the game up.
Chapter Two
Ashley
I get to Double D’s and find Don, one of the two owners of the club, hence the D in his name, and ask if I can speak to him.
“Sure, honey. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if there’s any way I could have some more nights.”
“Honey, we’ve talked about this. I don’t have any openings. Unless a girl quits or gets fired, I’m maxed out on hours.”
“What if I danced? I’ve taken pole dancing lessons for years.”
He shakes his head. “Ashley, I would put you up as a dancer in a heartbeat, but the women who have been dancing here longer get first dibs. If you would have come to me six months ago you know I would have moved you to the stage, but right now my lineup is full.”
Yeah, the problem is six months ago I didn’t need the money like I do now.
Four months ago
There’s a knock on my door. A quick glance at the clock on the microwave showing ten p.m. tells me it’s too late for anybody to be coming over. Kaden did leave a little bit ago… he probably forgot something. I swing the door open, immediately going to slam it shut when I see who’s standing there. It’s definitely not Kaden. What the hell was I thinking not looking out the window to see who was there? His foot catches in the door and then his fingers wrap around the edge, pushing it open.
When he gets inside, I look closely at the man who walked out the door almost six years ago, only he doesn’t quite look like the same man. He’s a bit skinnier, his clothes are rattier looking, and his eyes are bloodshot like he’s high on something. It looks like he has been through hell and back.
“What do you want?” I whisper-yell, not wanting to wake Tristan up.
“I want to see our son.”
“He’s not our son. He’s my son. You gave up your rights the day you walked out.”
“That’s not what his birth certificate says.”
“What the hell do you want, Tyler?”
“I’m broke. I need money and you’re going to give it to me.”
“Are you fucking serious? Do you not remember what you did to me when you left? All the debt you left me in! I have to work nights on top of teaching all day just to keep up and pay off the maxed-out credit cards you racked up when you pretended to pay the bills, only to use my hard-earned income to feed your gambling addiction!”
He grabs me by my shirt and shoves me roughly up against the wall. “Listen here, you fucking cunt, I have a right to see my son. Either you give me money or I will take him away and you will never see him again.” His voice is cold and menacing. What happened to the guy I met in my senior year of college? Who took me on romantic dates and told me he loved me at the top of the Eiffel Tower experience. That guy is clearly gone and I’m starting to wonder if he ever really existed or if it was all just a front.
“Don’t do this, please. I don’t have any money to give you!”
“I’ll sign over my rights to our son for thirty grand.”
“Where the hell do you think I’m going to get that kind of money?”
“You live in Las Vegas! There are plenty of loan sharks. Figure it out. I’ll be back tomorrow. If you don’t have my money, I can promise you our son will disappear. I’m sure a six-year-old boy goes for much more than thirty grand on the black market.”
He lets go of my shirt and stalks out the door, slamming it behind him and causing me to jump.
I pull out my phone and text Don. If anybody knows where to find someone to lend me money it would be him. I’ve overheard all the shady shit he’s dealt with over the years.
Me: Where can I go to borrow a large amount of money?
Don: How much we talking?
Me: $30,000
Don: Damn woman! Do I even want to know?
Me: No, you don’t.
Don: Go to Giovanni Valentino. He owns a Gentleman’s Club about thirty minutes outside of LV. Tell him I sent you. But Ashley, be sure about this. He only takes one kind of collateral…
Me: Which is?
Don: Women
I’m not sure what the hell he means by that, but I need this money, so I’ll just have to figure it out. I can’t take the chance of Tyler coming back and stealing Tristan from me. I’ll deal with any loan shark’s demands if it means keeping my son safe.
He texts me the address and I text him back thanking him. After calling in sick for tomorrow, I double check all the locks on the doors and windows. Then grabbing my pillow and blanket, I go to sleep on the floor next to Tristan’s bed. I’m not taking any chances.
The next morning after dropping Tristan off at school, I head to the address listed. The GPS says it’s a half an hour away, so I use the drive to build up my courage to beg for the money. When I get to the said address I see a beautiful sign that reads “La Stella.” As I drive down the long, graveled road, the most exquisite picturesque mansion comes into view. It must be three stories tall made of brick and mortar. While it looks to be generations old, with old-style Church windows throughout and chimneys peeking out in several areas, it also has a certain modern charm to it. It’s absolutely breathtaking. I pull up to the large U-shape driveway and see several expensive cars parked along the side. I follow their lead and park on the edge of the drive as well, my beat-up car sticking out like a sore thumb.
Approaching the massive size wooden front door, I take a couple deep breaths, gaining the courage to knock, when the door opens. In front of me is a gentleman, who looks to be only a tad bit older than me, maybe in his thirties, dressed in a three-piece suit and not at all shocked to see me standing in front of the door.
“Good morning, how may I help you?”
“I’m here to see Giovanni Valentino. Don sent me.”
“I’ll let him know you are here. And your name is?”
“Ashley… Ashley Myers.”
He opens the door wider, signaling for me to enter, then leaves me standing in the foyer to, I assume, let Giovanni know I’m here to see him. From what I can see, the inside is even more beautiful than the outside. To my left is a tall brick fireplace that expands from floor to ceiling. The fire is on and crackling giving it a homey vibe. Wood beams run across the ceilings, and in front of the fireplace are a couple of brown leather couches. There is a man sitting on the couch drinking what looks like a scotch and sitting on his lap is a gorgeous woman wearing nothing more than a scrap of lingerie. She must feel my eyes on her because she turns to face me, giving me a small smile, and she’s even more beautiful than I originally thought. I give her a small smile back before she turns her attention back to the man she’s with.
“How can I help you?” Another man walks over, dressed just as nice as the gentleman who let me in, only this guy runs his piercing blue eyes up and down my body, assessing me.
“I’m here to see Giovanni Valentino. Are you him?”
“I’m his assistant. How can I help you?”
“I need to see him.”
He glares at me for a second but nods, walking away. A few minutes later he returns.
“He will see you,” the man with the piercing blue eyes says, now signaling for me to follow him. I look
for the gentleman who let me in and notice he’s back to standing near the door. Is his entire job to open the door?
We head in the opposite direction of the man and woman who were cozying it up near the fireplace. There’s a small bar to the right with a younger gentleman wiping down the counter. He gives me a curt nod and I give him a small wave. We reach a long hallway and at the end, the man knocks once and then opens the door.
“Boss, Ashley Myers.”
“Thank you. You can close the door behind you.”
I walk into the room and am faced with one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. Brown hair that is gelled to the side with matching dark brown eyes. He has stubble on his face that looks like he hasn’t shaved in maybe a day or two. He’s dressed in a suit that fits him to perfection with no tie, the top three buttons open showing a hint of a tattoo peeking through. It makes me want to ask him what the tattoo is of.
He stands and I notice he’s tall, at least six feet with wide shoulders—he definitely works out. He gestures to the chairs in front of his desk for me to have a seat, his face showing no sign of any type of emotion.
After we both sit, he asks, “How may I help you?” Okay, I guess we’re going to bypass all pleasantries and get down to it.
“I need a loan for thirty thousand dollars and was told by Don you could help me.” I make sure to sound sure of myself. I don’t want this guy to think I am scared shitless.
“Hmm… Did he now. Did he tell you what I accept for collateral?”
“Yes, women,” I choke out.
“So, you understand, if at any time, you can’t pay me back the set monthly payment you will be required to work it off here at my Gentleman’s Club?”
Okay, so I guess that’s what he means by women. I wonder what he makes a man do if he doesn’t pay him back. Something tells me I don’t want to know the answer.
“Yes, I do.”
“If Don is sending you to me then I’m sure you’re legit, but I will still need to run a background check. Anything you need to tell me?”
“No, I’m in debt, but that’s it.”
“Okay, as long as your background check comes back okay, I will loan you the money. First, we’ll need to sign some paperwork.”
“Like a contract? What do you think I’m going to do? Take you to court?”
He chuckles softly and points at me. “You got sass to you. Would you like to work here? I have quite a few guys who would be fond of you. You could make a lot more money than thirty grand in less amount of time.” His statement sends chills down my spine.
“No, thank you.”
“To answer your question. No, the contract is not for court. It’s for my records and for yours. When the loan is paid off, we will both sign off on it.”
“Okay.”
He types on his phone and a minute later the man who escorted me back here, walks back in.
“Boss.”
“Johnny, run Ms. Myers’s credit, and if all is clear, put together the paperwork for a loan for thirty thousand with twenty percent interest.”
“Oh my God! Twenty percent? It’s going to take me forever to pay that off.”
“You better hope not because you only have eighteen months to pay it back.”
Holy shit! I can’t do that kind of math in my head, but I know that monthly payment is going to require me to get another job.
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“No.” I shake my head. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Tristan is safe and Tyler is out of our lives for good. “You’ll have your money.”
Johnny comes back a few minutes later with the paperwork and asks for my driver’s license to make a copy of it. After we’re done signing all the paperwork and Giovanni lets me know how much I owe by the end of each month, he asks me how I would like the money.
“Um, cash please.”
“That’s a lot of money to be walking around with. Are you sure you don’t want it wired to your account?”
“No, I need it in cash, please,” I insist. I need to give Tyler this money so he can be out of my life for good. He gives me a quick nod, a small frown marring his face. It’s the first emotion he’s shown since I walked in the door, and even upset he really is gorgeous.
“Ashley, please remember you are now dealing with the big boys. You don’t pay me back my money and you will belong to me.”
“I understand.”
Since the day he handed me the thirty thousand dollars, which I then handed over to Tyler, I have done everything in my power to pay back the obscene amount of money every month, but the problem is, in order to pay Giovanni back it means my other bills are going on the back burner. My mortgage is behind, my credit cards I finally got under control are not being paid, and meals like spaghetti and meatballs have become a luxury. But I can’t regret my decision because Tyler did in fact sign over his rights to Tristan and walked out the door, once again not looking back.
Now it’s the end of May and I’m short on my payment for the month. If I could just pick up a couple extra shifts I know I could make it.
“I have some good news,” Don says, pulling me out of my own head. “Charlotte called out. She had several private parties scheduled. You can pick up her shift along with your waitressing shift. You’re going to have to bust ass, but you’ll make good money tonight.”
“Thank you! I will handle it!” I give Don a huge hug causing him to laugh. “Go get ready, Ashley.”
The changing room for the dancers is utter chaos at all times. Girls are changing outfits, putting on makeup, doing their hair, and usually bickering with each other over sections and men. It also permanently smells of aerosol and burnt hair, which makes me gag every time I step foot into the room. Since I only waitress, I’m usually in and out in two minutes, simply putting my purse and keys in a locker. I’m not big on makeup and the waitresses are required to wear the standard Double D’s tank top and black shorts, so I come in ready to work.
Tonight, however, I’m going to need an outfit for dancing. I’m going through the rack the owners provide and it is severely lacking. The girls who dance on a regular basis bring their own outfits since the ones the club provides are crap. If I had known I would get to work a private party tonight, I would’ve tried to pick something up on my way in.
I find the best possible outfit and cringe when I hold it up knowing this is my only option. It’s an ugly purple body suit that buttons down the front and underneath, and has purple and silver sequins around the neckline. Gag!
Just as I’m about to accept I have no choice but to put this horrendous outfit on, clothing is thrown my way, hitting me in the face.
“I heard you’re covering for Charlotte tonight.” I look over and see Scarlett grinning my way. I met her when I first started waitressing here and we hit it off immediately. She is your cliché stripper, dancing her way through college. She’s now going through her master’s program, and with the money she makes, she is completely debt free. What I would give to be debt free.
“You are a life saver!” I run over and give her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “You are seriously saving me right now!”
“You’re lucky I love you, bitch. Now let’s get some makeup on you. We need you looking scandalous so you can bring in some dough tonight.”
First, Scarlett straightened my hair, making it pin straight and putting some oil in it to make it shine. Next, she darkened around my eyes with coal, giving me the perfect smoky eyes. Then she applied a couple coats of mascara, giving my lashes extra volume, and finally, she handed me baby pink lip gloss that made my lips look wet and shiny.
Once she was all done making me over, I put on the dress she gave me. It’s all white with a black strip going across the chest. It’s low up top and short on the bottom and the entire dress from the chest down is completely see through. Underneath I’m wearing black mini-scrunch panties and a matching black lace bra. The bra and panties are mine. Luckily, I put my good ones on tonight.
“Damn, Ash! You look hot tonight,” Desiree, another dancer, says, smacking my ass playfully. I look in the mirror and she’s right, I do look hot. Between the professional looking makeup, sleeked hair, and the beautiful black and white seamless net dress, I look damn good.
“Thanks! Let’s hope I look good enough to make some money.”
“Ladies, club is open! Let’s go,” the bouncer calls into the dressing room.
All the women file out and head to their destinations. When the women who dance aren’t on stage, they walk around and offer lap dances to the men sitting at the tables. Some guys will buy a dance and some will go a step further and ask for a private room. Dances and private rooms are where the money is at. This club, like most other clubs, don’t allow guys to put cash on the stage like it is depicted in the movies.
We get to the floor and a Britney jam is beating through the speakers. You won’t find a strip club that doesn’t play her at some point or another—the woman makes music that is meant to be danced to. I go to my section and greet my assigned tables asking them what they would like to drink since I have to work my waitressing shift on top of Charlotte’s shift. After bringing their orders back to the table, I head to my first private party of the night.
* * *
It’s eleven p.m., and my feet are killing me, but I have made more money in the last couple hours than I did during my last few shifts combined. And I still have one more private party to do.
“Ashley, your private party is in room five,” Dean, the other half of Double D’s, says.
“Thank you.”
A private party is exactly what it sounds like— a group of guys who pay extra money to have a stripper dance privately for them instead of them sitting at a table and watching on the main stage. I never thought my pole dancing lessons would come in handy but they have. People assume pole dancing is just wrapping your legs around a pole and grinding on it, and while for some that’s what happens, but here, you need to know what you’re doing to be hired as a dancer. Don and Dean won’t hire amateurs.
