by Carina Adams
“Don’t you two look dapper?” Her smile was filled with adoration as she straightened Roman’s bowtie.
The man’s eyes moved from the boys to our table. Roman saw it, too, and jumped into action. He put a hand on Grannie’s back and led her toward our table.
“Kendra,” Gran smiled warmly at the woman next to me, “I love your hair like that.”
I did a double take. I’d never heard anyone call her by her real name before. It sounded odd. Unfazed, Vi reached up and patted her victory rolls. “Thank you, Mrs. MacGregor. It was a lot of work, but it’s such a cute style.”
I should have made the connection as soon as I saw them. The man was an older, grayer version of Roman.
“Hello again Kendra,” he winked at Vi.
“Thank you, Senator.”
Senator? The news was a surprise and I tried to keep my face neutral. My eyes found Roman and I raised my eyebrows in silent question.
He stared back, almost as if in challenge. His grandfather caught our exchange and cleared his throat. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.”
“Sorry,” Rome scratched his neck, “where are my manners?”
I knew the answer. They were non-existent. I snorted.
Roman ignored me. He moved to the spot beside me, put his hand on the back of my chair, and kept talking. “Cady, these are my grandparents. MacGregor, Gran, this is Cady.”
I expected Reid to jump in, to claim me as his, but he moved toward Vi. I smiled at the MacGregor’s, offering them each my hand. My day had been so weird, I didn’t know what else to do.
“Weekend off?” Grannie asked, her eyes on Rome. When he nodded, she patted his cheek. “Good. You work too much. Are you going to the show as well?”
I looked at him, too, as equally shocked by her question as I was worried. I’d stepped outside my comfort zone the moment I’d taken the job at Soiree and every weekend since had been a test. Going to a risqué burlesque show with my boss’s grandparents, however, was pushing a boundary I didn’t think I could cross.
“We’re on our way to Hamilton,” Senator MacGregor clarified.
“We saw it in New York a few years ago. You’ll enjoy it,” Reid told them. “Unfortunately, we’re headed to a themed birthday party.”
Rome picked up the lie and glanced at his watch. “And we’re actually late.”
“Are you staying in the city tonight?”
“We are.” He answered apprehensively.
Gran was delighted by the news. “Good. Brunch at the town house tomorrow. Ten sharp.”
“You don’t have to do that, Gran,” Reid assured her. “We don’t want to impose.”
“Family isn’t an imposition, young man.” She cut off any further argument with a steel look. “We’ll see you all tomorrow.” I didn’t miss the way her eyes sparkled as they lingered on me. “Go have fun.”
Once the bill was paid, Reid said goodbye and led Violet outside. I had no choice but to follow with Roman. When he reached for my hand, I stopped abruptly.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as we get around the corner.”
I hesitated. “What is going on?”
His fingers closed around mine and he gave me a little tug. “Walk.”
“Then talk,” I hissed, sick of being in the dark. It felt like all of them were keeping secrets from me.
“My grandparents know about Soiree,” his voice was little more than a murmur, as he leaned close to keep others from overhearing our conversation, “but the identity of all of our dancers is locked down tight. My grandmother and her friends ran into Reid and Violet leaving a hotel one morning after a show. He explained her the only way he could. As his girlfriend.”
Our pace was so slow we’d fallen behind. I knew we probably looked like a couple taking a romantic early-evening stroll, but I wanted answers. “Why not just say they’re friends?”
“To save face.” He watched Reid and Violet, a half block in front of us. “Mrs. Williams, Violet’s grandmother, is in the same society. She was there. How many male friends do you stay alone with in hotels?”
“Oh, that’s awful.” I blew out a breath. “I can’t imagine how my nana would act if she caught me doing what she assumed was the walk of shame.”
“You never talk about her. Your nana.”
“I don’t. For good reason. Don’t change the subject.” I butted my shoulder against his arm. “So, they ran into your grandmother’s group. They lied about being a couple. Why keep it going?”
“Mrs. Williams is,” he paused as he searched for the right word, “difficult. Very old school. Vi panicked. Reid was in an odd place, so they’ve kept the charade going. He goes to family dinners a couple times a year, keeps appearances around Gran, and in return, Vi’s his beard.”
“You mean she pretends to be his girlfriend so he doesn’t have to explain why he’s single all the time?”
He stared down at me briefly and searched my eyes. Then he turned his attention to the city around us. “That’s one way to define it, yeah.”
“That makes sense.” I loved the way Reid took care of the people he cared about. “Maybe I should find a beard. Introduce him to my family. Then they could stop speculating about me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve lived with Frankie for four years. She’s been my best friend forever. She’s never hidden who she is…,” I trailed off.
He understood immediately. Most people made the same assumption, even him. “They think you’re a couple.” It wasn’t a question.
“No. They think I’m in love with her, but it’s one sided. I let them because it’s easier than explaining for the five-hundredth time why I don’t need a man.” I laughed at his horrified expression. “They’re old fashioned, too.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s a first,” I snorted. “Let me enjoy it for a minute.”
We took the last few steps to Vi and Reid in silence. They’d stopped almost in front of our hotel, deep in quiet conversation. They went silent the moment we stepped close enough to hear.
“Our Uber will be here in five,” Reid told us with a welcoming smile as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back into him. Butterflies swarmed my stomach, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he was so close or if it was anxiety over the unknown. My fingers drummed out a steady rhythm on the back of his hands. “Are you that nervous about tonight?” He whispered in my ear before gently nibbling on it. “Because I’ll be gentle. The first time or two.”
I stilled my fingers and tipped my head to the side. “No,” I chuckled quietly. “I’m anxious about the show.”
He leaned down and pressed a calming kiss to my neck. “Don’t be. It’s going to be amazing.”
Amazing was not the first word that came to mind as I stared at the long line of people stretched all the way down the block and around the corner.
“Wait,” Violet sounded as amazed as I was, “this is Sway.”
“Yeah,” Roman answered as our driver pulled over in front of a large brick building with black doors, no window, and a simple giant sign.
Vi looked over her shoulder, not at me, but behind me. Angry eyes narrowed on Reid. “The show is here?”
He pushed open his door and slammed it behind him.
“Sway?” I whispered.
“An exclusive strip club.” She reached for her door but didn’t open it. Instead she hesitated, staring at the people outside, then she slapped down the lock and turned back to me. “I just need a second.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Livie and I used to dance here. Before Soiree.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “Let’s just say I don’t have the best memories.” She frowned and glanced out the window one more time. “I don’t know about tonight, but typically the men here aren’t the kind of guests who come to our parties.” Her eyes slid to the driver who did his best to ignore us, then back to me. “Stay c
lose to Rome in there, okay?” Her passionate insistence made me worry.
I had so many questions but nodded my promise. “I will.”
Reid knocked on the window, she took a deep breath, and then unlocked the door. He opened it immediately. “Ladies?”
Roman stood at the back of the car, hands in his pockets, as his eyes moved around. To anyone else he would have looked casual, maybe impatient. However, his body was rigid, jaw tense, and his face too blank, the way he looked at work. Always vigilant.
Vi pulled me from the car behind her and clutched me tight as we looked at the never ending line. “Why did he drop us all the way up here and not back there to save us the walk?”
“We’re not waiting in line,” Reid put his arm around my shoulders, tugged me close, and bypassed the ropes as he steered us toward the door.
One of the mammoth-sized bouncers scowled and crossed his arms over his chest as his biceps bulged. The other, though, gave us a cocky grin and stepped forward a smidge.
“When Marcus told me you were coming I didn’t believe it. Welcome home, man.” He offered a hand to Rome then pulled him into a back-slapping hug. Then he turned his attention to Reid and embraced him, too. “It’s been too long.”
He did a double-take when he saw Violet, but wisely he didn’t say anything. As his eyes glanced my way, Reid stepped in front of me. I peeked around his arm just as the bouncer opened the door and motioned us inside. “They’re seating VIPs now. Another group just went in. It may be a minute. Have fun.”
A woman in a bright red corset tied so tight it probably restricted oxygen, black shorts so small most underwear covered more, and black Chuck Taylor’s greeted us in the hall. Her eyes swept over each of the men and her blood red lips lifted in a smile as she ignored Violet and me.
“Welcome to Sway. Tickets?” Her honeyed voice asked almost seductively.
Reid started to reach into his vest but Rome shook his head. “Roman, Reid, and guests.”
She lapped her lips as her eyes lit up. “Right this way.”
She turned and walked down a dimly lit corridor, leaving us no other option than to follow. With every step she took, her hips shook from side to side exaggeratedly.
The hall opened up into a giant open room with gleaming wooden floors, black ceilings, and a burgundy and gold color scheme. The elevated stage, with a long staircase on each side took up almost the entire back wall. Toward the back of the room, a giant circular bar with intricate design work was the focal point of the space. Along the side walls were numerous VIP rooms, each filled with a plush gold leather couch and curtains parted over ever door, ready to provide a little bit of privacy.
Behind the bar was a sweeping stair case that led to a second story balcony. I let my eyes wander up, amazed by the sheer size of the club. I couldn’t see what was up there, but it looked like more VIP areas and private rooms.
The front half of the room, closest to the stage, was filled with tables. Most were small with six chairs crammed in around them. At center stage there were eight rows of rectangles, each with four chairs that faced the stage and two globed candles that twinkled almost merrily in welcome. The rest of the floor was filled chairs, too many to count.
Our hostess led us to the third table back in the middle. “This is you.” She motioned to the seats.
“There’s been a mistake,” Reid insisted.
She smiled, reached for the RESERVED tag, and held it out for view. “Mr. MacGregor, Mr. Thompson, and guests. You’ve been upgraded.” She set two small drink menus on the table. “Bubbles will be out in a minute to check on you. Can I get you anything in the mean time?”
“No, thank you.” Roman dismissed her with a curt lift of his chin.
“What did you do? We aren’t special guests.” Reid’s eyes moved around the room suspiciously as she walked away.
“I asked if Marcus was going to be here, mentioned we were coming down. That’s it. This is unexpected.” He pulled out the two middle chairs and motioned for Violet and me.
“And unnecessary.” Reid added as he walked to the other end of the table and sat in the last seat. Before I could snag the one closest to him, Violet slid into it.
Okay, then. She was out of sorts, the stress rolled off her in waves, and she obviously needed the support more than I did. Reid had made it clear we weren’t on a date, that later would be for us, so I took the chair next to her.
“Completely unnecessary,” Rome agreed as he dropped into his.
Neither of them seemed as apprehensive as Vi, but they weren’t at ease.
Reid leaned forward, ready to continue the conversation when a waitress stepped up to the table. She was dressed just like the hostess except her face was split in a genuinely warm smile.
“Hey guys,” she greeted us with a wink. “How we doing tonight?”
“Good.” Roman answered for us all.
“Have you been to a show before?” We shook our heads. “You’re going to have a blast. What can I get y’all to drink?”
I hadn’t looked at the list yet, but wasn’t in the mood for alcohol. When she got to me, I waved her past. Roman pointed at me. “We’ll both take a pint of Fiddlehead. And two waters.”
I waited for her to leave. “We will?”
Roman sat back and draped an arm over the back of my chair. “You need a drink or she’ll be back every five minutes to ask. If you don’t like it, I’ll drink it. You can have my water.”
Reid and Vi were deep in conversation, their voices so quiet I could only make out a word or two, so I turned my attention to the people around us. Every bartender was a man, all buff enough to double as a bouncer, which made me assume it was a requirement. Their uniform, tight button-up black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and bright white tie, looked a little more comfortable than what the waitresses had to wear, but not much.
There were ten or eleven waitresses, all relatively the same height, build, and shape, dressed exactly alike, even their hair and make-up the same. Hell, they even wore the same half-amused, half-annoyed expression. The only one who differed slightly was Bubbles. Her quick smile set her apart from the others, but it was the black shoelaces with white skulls that proved she was a true rebel.
Once there was a lull in the conversation next to me, I touched Violet’s arm to get her attention. “You doing okay?”
She took a deep breath, puffed out her cheeks, and let it all out. “Yeah. I am.” She rolled her eyes, “I thought I saw something I didn’t see. I overreacted.”
“No,” I shook my head. “If someone or something makes you uncomfortable, that’s your gut talking. You need to listen. It’s never an overreaction.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
As the room started to fill up, my friends finally seemed to relax. I kept an eye on Violet, just to make sure. She’d gotten her color back and was visibly calmer. When a bachelorette party was seated in front us and Vi started to chat and laugh with the bride-to-be and her ladies in waiting, I knew she was going to be okay.
Three men—one of which stopped to greet Roman—and a woman were led to the table behind us. Reid also recognized them and turned to talk. I drew shapes in the condensation on my water glass in an attempt to keep myself busy and avoid conversation with surly man next to me.
Once general admission was let in, the excitement was contagious, and the room got so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. It made me wonder if the audiences before my shows acted the same way. I performed at small, private parties, yes, but the anticipation must be similar. Maybe greater, since we mingled with the guests after the show was over. I leaned toward Roman, ready to ask him, when the lights went out and the room instantly went quiet.
“Boston! How the hell are ya? Wicked good, right?” A spotlight followed a redhead in a tiny shirt-dress as she strutted into the middle of the stage. “Who’s ready to have some fun?” Loud whistles pierced the air, men cheered, and women screamed. “I can’t hear you,” our host teased. The r
oom erupted.
“I was just back stage with the girls, and let me tell you, you’re in for one hell of a treat tonight. And not just from me.” She tugged her hem up a few inches so we could see the top of her garters. “We’re gonna get hot. We’re gonna get dirty. And we’re gonna have a whole lot-a fun.”
She was right. I barely moved for the next few hours as I watched act after act dominate the stage. I took mental notes of when the audience went wild and when I was so engrossed I couldn’t pull my eyes away. The routines weren’t all perfect, but they were on point, and hot as hell. The dancers—as vastly different as the waitresses were similar—were on another level.
The show was not what I’d expected. Traditional burlesque tended to use jazz, big band songs, or catchy oldies, and paired the music with pin-up girl costumes. Soiree had a unique style all our own; we’d taken burlesque roots and twisted them. We used heavy beats and metal music with costumes that matched each dancer’s personality and moves that we choreographed in-house.
The Mistresses of Mayhem were in a world all their own. Every performance had at least five girls on stage, all dressed in intricate costumes that matched the pop-culture theme of the routine—from Star Wars to Game of Thrones. The dancers executed synchronized moves perfectly to indie-rock, while taking off their clothes. It was more than a strip tease or burlesque show, it was a work of art.
“I have to pee,” Violet told me once the curtain dropped and the house lights went on. “Reid’s going to walk with me. Do you have to go?”
I shook my head.
“We’ll wait here.” Rome assured them. We stood, stretched, and watched the mostly female audience attempt to clear out all at once. “So, what d’ya think?”
“It wasn’t at all what I expected.” I chewed on my lip as I tried to find the right words. “They were very naughty.”
He didn’t hide his surprise. He lowered his voice, “Ruffles isn’t naughty?”
I shrugged. “She can be. In a flirty way, though. Ruffles is larger than life. This felt different. Their routines, their moves, their costumes—they’re more rebellious, I guess. It was very eye opening.”
