The Dancer

by Jordan Silver

  The Dancer

  Jordan Silver

  Illustrated by

  Forever Ink Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by Jordan Silver

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  “Oh you’re here. The new trainees should be here any minute, are you hanging around for that?” I returned the over friendly smile from one of my managers with a hard cold stare until the sticky sweet look fell from her face.

  “Isn’t that what I hired you for?” I kept walking towards the back of my place where my office was located. The least amount of time I spend with that particular female the better. Ergo the unfriendly stare. If I didn’t do that shit, things around here could get complicated.

  The fact that I was feeling off my game had something to do with it, but also the reality that she was getting way too damn friendly here lately was cause for a reset.

  It’s a curse. Every female between the age of six and sixty ends up trying to jump on my dick at some time or another. Even the ones who should have more damn common sense.

  This one has been acting kinda territorial lately because I smiled at her once a few weeks ago. I forgot what that shit does to the female population, but I’d thought that someone with her experience would be immune. Silly me.

  The fact that she’s married isn’t the only thing killing my interest, she just isn’t my type. Get me, I have a type. Was a time when that shit was laughable. I used to screw anything I fancied back in the day. Okay, not that long ago.

  These days my palette has become more discerning. I no longer like to be hunted like game. On the other hand, I can’t seem to drum up any interest in becoming the hunter myself.

  For some odd reason my interest in women seems to have taken a hiatus altogether. That shit is so foreign to my nature that I’ve decided to ignore it and let it run its course. I put it down to just plain boredom, something that will surely wear off in due time.

  I’ve had my share of female flesh and an eclectic group at that. I never really had a preference. As long as it was clean, unattached and relatively attractive, I’d give it a shot.

  From fast and loose, to high society mavens and even college girls. You name it I’ve had it, and had no doubt that I’d be back in the game before long.

  But here lately, in the last few months to be exact, my interest in the game has waned considerably. I couldn’t find a woman to whet my appetite if I tried.

  To add insult to injury, in the last couple days I’ve been feeling…empty. Like something was missing, something vital. But nothing and no one seems able to lift that feeling of ennui.

  Today was the worst. Since I opened my eyes this morning I’ve had this unsettled feeling. One of those things that you can’t quite put your finger on, but you know enough to be aware.

  If I didn’t know better I’d think I was sick, but my last check-up had cleared me of any illnesses, not even a cold. Sure as fuck something was going on in my head though.

  Since I wasn’t about to plant my ass on some overpaid blowhard’s couch and spill my guts, I guess I’d have to figure that shit out on my own.

  It couldn’t be a midlife crisis, I was nowhere near the age for that morbid shit. And aren’t men supposed to lose their damn minds and seek out younger flesh when going through that fuckery?

  Instead, I couldn’t even stir up enough interest to even look and there was plenty to look at in my line of work. But the harder they tried, the less tempted I was.

  Maybe I’ve become jaded after just a few years in the business. Maybe too much exposure to what really goes on behind the scenes had warped my mind.

  Owning and running clubs like mine have given me new insight into the world of glitz and glamor. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

  From drug abuse to underhanded schemes, I’ve come to see the dark underbelly of some of the most beautiful women in the city and it’s not all good.

  Some of these women are at the end of their rope, some are struggling hard just to keep their head above water, and willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead, even down to being exploited.

  And some are young and naïve, just starting out in the world and have convinced themselves that dancing on stage is a first step up to their future.

  I don’t judge, I know only too well what curve balls life can throw at you, I’m a product of one of them. In fact, when I see some of the females that come through my doors looking for a job I can’t help but feel for them.

  I always think of my mother and the choices she’d had to make in her young life to put food in my belly and clothes on my back. It’s because of that that I go above and beyond to make my dancers feel like more than a piece of meat.

  Though she hadn’t gone that route, dancing half naked on a stage, I’m sure my own mother had faced a lot of difficult decisions that she never shared with her only son.

  I’ve listened to the down on their luck stories enough to know that life was hard for most of these women. That it went beyond public opinion when it came to the women who took this particular path.

  And the ones who were really looking for something better for the young kids they had at home, I always tried to find a better way for. Always with my mother in mind.

  I hadn’t started out wanting to own this kind of business. I wasn’t exactly proud of the stigma that came attached to it. And it’s not my mother’s favorite thing.

  I’d done the college deal on a football scholarship, which led me to a first draft pick for the NFL. I thought that would be my life’s work until I retired some time near the age of forty.

  Three years in an injury sidelined me, ending my dream and any hopes of a comeback. I took the payout money and left. No hard feelings, shit happens. I couldn’t play ball but I still had my life.

  Because of that college degree, and a mother who knew the worth of a dollar, I was wise enough to invest more than I spent and had never learned to be frivolous. I’d made more than enough from my signing contract alone to live comfortably if I was careful.

  As luck would have it, I didn’t have to touch it in the end. One lucky night in Atlantic City with a loud mouth asshole who had more money than brains had won me four nightclubs. Two in New York and two in South Beach, all prime locations.

  I’m not sure if said asshole was high when he threw them into the pot after losing a few hundred grand to me at the tables. Or
if he truly believed he had a winning hand when he made the choice.

  But when my royal flush beat his straight it was game over and no way for him to renege. I’d been in shock for like five minutes after it happened, not believing that shit like that really happens in real life.

  I half expected it to be a joke. That any minute someone was going to come and take the papers he’d signed right there at the table away from me and cameras were going to pop up in one of those sick pranking shits.

  But once none of that happened and the shock wore off I realized what I held in my hands. The first thing I did was look up the asshole and the clubs, still not quite believing my luck.

  It had all panned out. Now that I think about it, I’d been feeling pretty much the way I do now in the days leading up to the big win. Listless and bored with everything around me, with a slight buzz under my skin.

  That’s how I’d found myself in Atlantic City looking for some excitement. I wonder what the hell game life is playing now? Because sure as fuck it was about to zap me.

  Whatever it is I have no doubt that I can navigate my way through whatever fuckery it sends my way, I always do. As was evident by the progress I’d made with the business.

  Like I said, I hadn’t started out wanting to own nightclubs, it wasn’t something I’d ever been interested in other than for a night out.

  I thought I’d coach college ball or some other shit like that once I healed, but life had other plans as usual. And as usual I just rolled with the punches. I didn’t grow up in New York for nothing. If nothing else we’re resilient as fuck.

  Now three years later, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine my life is well set financially but I’m bored as hell again. Had I already seen, experienced, lived all that there was? I hope not.

  After that night at the tables, when I saw what gambling could do to a person, I never went back. I had no reason to now anyway and no time. In that first year I was too busy learning the ropes to indulge in sporting pastimes.

  Then once I got the hang of it, there was too much to do to turn the places into mine to think of anything else. It was pure luck that I’d sat at that table that night. The night that changed the course of my life.

  Last I heard the guy who lost to me was still trying to get back on his feet. Not that he’d lost everything, but losing businesses that brought in millions a year would be a hard blow for anyone.

  To fuck his shit up even more, once word got out that an ex Super bowl winner was the new owner, business had tripled in the first year and had only climbed every year since then.

  It wasn’t just my name that was a big draw, but what I had done to the clubs to put my mark on them. I’d built them into much more than they once were if I do say so myself.

  I couldn’t get rid of all the dancers because they needed to eat too, no matter how I was against it and my mother turned up her nose in the beginning.

  For her and my own peace of mind I’ve done all I can to make my clubs as clean cut as they can get for what they are. Now I can sleep at night without worrying that I’m a flesh peddling bastard.

  All my places have a reputation for being upscale classy joints. There are no private rooms in the back where anything more than dancing goes on, and any of the women caught crossing the line with a customer gets axed on the spot.

  Everyone knew when you walked into one of my places it was hands off, stay your ass in your seat or you’d get booted, no questions asked no matter who you are.

  Like I said, I’d gone to those extremes because of my mother. She too worried about the young women who came to me looking for help in the form of a job, when they were more likely than not to get shunned by the rest of the world.

  I do my best to give these women a sense of purpose. To remind them that they’re more than their profession whether they’d chosen it, or it had been their last resort.

  To make myself more comfortable with my new business, once things had taken off and I became more comfortable as a business owner, I’d expanded.

  These days my clubs aren’t just about the dancers on stage. I’d used the prime real estate to turn them into one stop shops.

  Now the dancing ladies were just a part of the whole and in fact had been taken over by the rest of the club as far as business went.

  I’d hired top notch chefs to take over the kitchens, well known DJs to spin on the revamped dance floors, and enough security to make everyone feel safe and comfortable when they walked through the doors.

  Because of my past fame the clientele had gone up a couple notches as well. Now there were usually ball players with starlets on their arms, or other celebrity types who wanted to see and be seen coming through the doors.

  One well placed write up in the second year had really made things take off and now the clubs were known far and wide, which was always good for business. It helped that they were no longer seen as just high end strip joints.

  Along with the fame came women, too many to count. Maybe that’s why I’d lost my taste for the chase. They were all alike these days. At least the ones who threw themselves at me.

  This one was no different even though she was married with kids. If I’d known what she was when I hired her I wouldn’t have made the mistake.

  But she was well qualified for her position and since that was my only interest in her I hadn’t looked any deeper. Why the hell would I?

  How am I supposed to know who’s crazy and who’s not? I’ve had my fair share of stalker fans gone nuts, but I never had to deal with them this close so I’m not really sure how they’re packaged.

  That day I smiled at her my mind hadn’t even been on her. I was thinking of something mom had done or said at lunch earlier.

  Because I wasn’t known to smile at anyone, I can see how she misconstrued something as simple as that. At first I didn’t think too much of it, but lately she’s been taking that shit too far.

  When she wasn’t throwing herself in my way needlessly, she was finding excuses to be alone with me. I was starting to feel cornered whenever we were in the same room together.

  It was a good thing that I never let anyone into my inner office for any reason or who knows how far she would’ve gone.

  Still, things hadn’t gotten to the point where I felt like I needed to do something, not yet. But somehow lately I get the feeling I should keep an eye on her just the same.

  Back in my office I forgot all about her as I booted up the computer to look over last night’s take. Once that was done I checked over the orders for the restaurant and bar side of the club.

  All my places now serve five star cuisine along with entertainment. It was a big part of the reason business had been doing so well. I’d taken what I’d won and turned it into something more. Something me, and my mother, could be proud of.

  There were stages where women danced into the early morning on one floor, a restaurant with live music on another, and yet another for dancing the night away. Each with a bar, which were the money makers.

  Each floor was more opulent than the last and I’d gone out of my way to make sure that each remained a separate entity with their own entrance and no spill over.

  I’d say one thing for the asshole, he had excellent taste. All his clubs are in the best locations and there had been room for expansion, which I’d made use of.

  As good as they’d done under his hand that was nowhere close to what they’ve become. He just didn’t have the same vision as me I guess, or he was too lazy to try anything new.

  He’d inherited the lot from his old man who’d inherited them from his, now they’re mine. Although I wasn’t sure about it in the beginning, I’m happy that I hadn’t sold them off like I’d planned to.

  It’s a whole other feeling having people dependent on you for their livelihoods, and yet another to be in a position to help those who needed it in the form of employment.

  That is my greatest source of pride. The fact that I can give someone a job, a way to put food on their table
and a roof over their head.

  Most of my crew were either ex ball players down on their luck or people I grew up with, people I could trust. The man I trust most is my right hand man, Tony.

  We grew up tough together on the mean streets of New York, but Tony always had it harder than me. Maybe it was because he’s African American and I Caucasian that he didn’t get the same breaks that I did.

  But whatever his beginning, it is my mission in life to make sure he enjoys the same benefits as me now. I’d wanted to set him up as my general manager, but that fool wanted to stick close to me even now.

  Instead of the cushy job I had waiting for him, he chose to be my bodyguard and personal driver. Just like when we were younger he thought I needed him to watch my back.

  It was true that I had gained some enemies over time whether I wanted to or not. And though there hadn’t been any attempts on my life, there had been some close calls in the last couple of years.

  Because of the way I grew up and who I am, I didn’t think I needed anyone to watch my back, I can handle my shit. But mom had other ideas and I’m sure she had a lot to do with my old friend watching my six.

  We’d been close as brothers growing up and had always looked out for one another. So it wasn’t too much of a stretch for him to hold the position he now does. It’s just that I’d wanted to give him more.

  I couldn’t ask for a more loyal friend, but I still believe he was wasted as my shadow. He’s smart as fuck, so I don’t know why he wouldn’t just do as I say. But if there’s anyone more hardheaded than myself, it’s him.