by Glines, Abbi
“Hi, um, I’m Bryn Wallace. I was told to come to the bar and ask for Saint,” I said, hoping the loud music masked my nerves.
He smirked then and gave a small shake of his head before putting the tall, frosted mug on the counter.
“You found him,” he replied in a deep voice I recognized from the phone call I had made earlier. “Minx, table three,” he said loudly, then looked back at me. “Come this way.”
Keeping my eyes locked on Saint, I followed him as he walked out from behind the counter and then led me toward a red door to the far left behind the bar area. He opened it and stepped back, then waved a hand for me to go inside. I stepped into a large area with black-and-white striped walls and three more doors. All of them red, like the one we had walked through. The floor was a black marble, which must have been expensive.
“This way,” he said and opened the door to the right. “Marley typically handles the hiring, but she’s out on maternity leave. My job is to keep the girls safe, and I handle the money. Marley has never been good with numbers.” He didn’t go sit behind the desk in the middle of the room, but instead stood in front of it and leaned against it, crossing his arms in front of him.
“I’ve never had anyone come for an interview dressed … well, so completely covered. Makes me question what it is you’re hiding. You can’t hide it long. As you saw out there, very little is left hidden. We start girls here as servers. However, it’s a topless bar, and the bottoms you are given to wear cover only what they must.”
I swallowed nervously. I hadn’t considered that I might need to borrow one of Tory’s dresses to wear for this interview. I had chosen my best top—a soft white sweater—and a pair of black jeans.
“If those are real, then you’ll do well here. As you can imagine, the bigger, the better. Depends on what the rest of you looks like. Let’s see it.”
I stood there, staring at him, unsure exactly what “let’s see it” meant. Does he want me to just … strip? Right here in his office? Is this normal? I’d never stripped for anyone.
“Uh, you want me to, uh—” I began but wasn’t sure how to ask this.
“Take off your clothes. Yes. That’s what I want you to do.” He raised one eyebrow and leaned forward. “You are aware you’re applying for a topless server position at a strip club. The most elite one in Alabama with wealthy clientele, but it’s still a strip club.”
I swallowed hard and nodded my head. “Yes, I know. I just … well …” I couldn’t tell him I had never been naked in front of a man before.
The look in his eyes told me that he doubted me. I was losing the job already, and I needed this.
Remembering Cullen’s tears earlier today over milk, I reached for my sweater and pulled it over my head, only just then worrying about my bra. It wasn’t anything sexy or expensive. It was a basic white bra that did the job. My face felt as if it were on fire, and I didn’t look at Saint. I knew I needed to, but I was afraid it would do more harm than good. If he saw the terror in my eyes, then that would be the end of this interview.
I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down to the floor before stepping out of them. My panties were better than my bra. At least, I thought they were. Taking a deep breath, I focused solely on Cullen and being able to pay our bills, then lifted my head to meet Saint’s eyes. He was watching me closely.
“The genuine fear of getting undressed in front of a man is a major issue. Normally, when a female comes in here, asking for a job, she has no problem with stripping down what little clothing she is wearing. Rarely does she have on a bra,” he said. He uncrossed his arms, then sighed.
I wanted to defend myself and say something, but I didn’t think I could manage words just yet. I had never felt so exposed. There was a possibility I was trembling.
“Damn,” he muttered and ran a hand over his jaw. “Look, if my sister, Marley, were here, she would send you home. You’re not what we are looking for in a server—at least, not entirely. However, I’m not Marley. I’m a man, and you”—he waved a hand at me—“that body and that face, along with the naive good-girl persona? You’re gonna be a favorite. The men will love you.”
“I … I got the job then?” I asked, stumbling slightly over my words.
He rolled his head around, making a cracking noise with his neck, then groaned. “Yeah. I think you might. But I have to see the tits, darling. That is the selling feature for the floor job.”
I stared at him a moment, realizing he meant I had to take off my bra. “Oh,” I whispered, knowing he was right.
I had to get used to being topless. I nodded my head and tried to think about something else while I unhooked my bra. Nothing was working though. I couldn’t get myself out of this moment and this room.
When I felt the clasp slip free, I inhaled deeply, then let the bra fall forward as I slipped it off my arms and to the ground.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Yeah, you got the job, but do me a favor. In the next two weeks, get rid of the terrified expression. Marley comes back then, and if she knows I hired a girl who’s scared shitless, she’ll be furious with me. I’m not in the mood to hear her bitch. Ever,” he said.
I nodded, relieved to have gotten the job and equally horrified that I was going to be walking around in a club full of people with nothing covering my breasts.
“You, uh, you said I would make twenty dollars an hour on weekday nights and forty dollars an hour on weekends?” I needed to make sure this was correct and not an average with tips. I knew tips weren’t always a sure thing, and I needed some reassurance.
He nodded. “Yes, but that’s not including tips. Weekend nights, you can make a lot more than that. I’ve seen waitresses go home with over two thousand in their pockets after tipping the front of house.”
“Two thousand,” I repeated, not sure I had heard that right.
He smirked. “It’s not every night, but it happens.”
Going home with even a few hundred dollars a night would change our lives. It would give Cullen a completely different world. Thinking about why I was doing this and who I was doing it for were the reasons I’d make it work.
Chapter Four
Bryn
six months later
My feet ached as I slipped them into the red eight-inch platform heels that were part of my uniform. The lacy black silk panties that covered a small portion of my bottom along with the gold belly chain, which had a fake red ruby dangling from just below my belly button, were the other parts of my uniform. I had worked five days straight this week because two of the other servers had been let go last weekend after getting into a fight over a customer.
When Marley had asked if I could work extra shifts, I had agreed, not thinking about how exhausted I was going to be. We didn’t need the money even though Tory was without a job again. I never told my sister the exact amount I made and had been putting money in a savings account I’d opened at a local bank. I didn’t want to do this job forever, but for now, I saw no other way.
Two months ago, we had moved from our studio apartment to a three-bedroom apartment on the better side of town. I had considered moving us closer to my work. The Shores hadn’t exactly given us a warm welcome, thanks to Tory. My reason for coming here was no longer a staying factor. I had closure on my Rio March fascination.
However, Tory had just gotten another job at the time, and she hadn’t wanted to leave town. She told me I was being selfish. In the end, we’d stayed on in The Shores.
Cullen had his own bedroom now, and he hadn’t gone without a healthy meal in months. I was able to take him to the bookstore and let him pick out books every week. His fifth birthday would be here at the end of the summer, and for the first time in his life, he would have a real party. Not just a cupcake with a candle stuck in it with whatever used toy I had found at the thrift store, wrapped in newspaper.
“Here, use this,” Trix said, putting a tub of makeup in my hand. “It’s concealer. It will cover the dark circles under your eyes.”
I looked into the mirror and realized she was right. I not only felt exhausted, but I looked it too. “Thanks,” I said to her.
“Sucks, having to work every night. Marley needs to let Saint help her hire. Hell, he did a fucking excellent job with you. She knows it too. We need more servers on the floor. I can’t keep up the double shifts to cover for them. I need to be on the damn stage. Makes more money, and if I am going to get into medical school, I need to dance,” Trix said as she fastened her belly chain around her waist.
A month after I’d started, Trix had been moved from serving on the floor to stage dancing. I knew those girls often went home with five thousand dollars a night. Trix was headed to med school; Danka was the sole provider for her daughter and her father, who was battling cancer; Lola was raising three nieces after her sister and brother-in-law died in a car accident. They were the three I had worked with the most. I didn’t know all the dancers’ stories, but I had learned most were up there because they had to be.
“You said you have a sister,” Trix said, and I looked back at her through the mirror as I applied the concealer.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“She look like you? Maybe she could come in and interview,” Trix suggested.
I laughed then and shook my head, then continued to cover the dark circles the best I could. “Tory is not someone I would recommend to Marley. She has no work ethic and has yet to keep a job longer than three weeks.”
Trix sighed. “That’s a fucking shame.”
She had no idea. It was why I was here.
“Here, let me do that,” Trix said and took the tube from me, then began to fix my face. “She older than you?” Trix asked me.
“Tory? Yes.”
Trix snorted. “Rarely hear of the younger sister being the responsible one. Hell, my baby sister calls me weekly for help to pay her bills. If it wasn’t for the three kids of hers, I would hang up. She’s just like our mama, I swear.”
I understood that all too well. “Tory has a son,” I said just as she stepped back and studied my face.
“There. It’s fixed,” she stated. “You got a sorry-ass mama too?” Trix asked, walking over to slip on her platform heels that were white, covered in red lips.
“She was in prison for murder. They had a Covid outbreak shortly after the lockdown, and she didn’t survive it,” I explained.
“Murder? Shit. Damn, that’s tough,” she replied.
“Just had the Elvis table arrive. We need you both on it. Looks like spoiled trust-fund brats tonight, but they have daddy’s money,” Saint said as he walked into the dressing room.
Each table was named after a dead music icon. Elvis was The King, so the table with his name was the most exclusive.
“Gotta have something if they reserved the Elvis table,” Trix said, flashing a smile.
Saint was looking at me though, and I wondered if he wanted me to say something. I never understood him. His mood swings came and went. Getting to know him was impossible. Although Trix wasn’t bothered by his moodiness. She was always flirty with him.
“This is your fifth night in a row, isn’t it?” he asked me.
I nodded.
“You need a night off,” he stated.
“I’m fine until Marley finds new servers,” I assured him.
“Tomorrow night, you take off,” he said, then turned and walked out of the room.
“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” Trix called out and rolled her eyes. “Damn, must be nice, having that face of yours and those tits. Come on, Angel. Let’s go.”
Angel was my name here. My first night at work, Saint had given it to me, as he had done with the other girls here. It was his job—or at least what everyone expected of him. When he named me Angel, I was relieved. It didn’t sound like a stripper name. Trix, however, had teased me about it relentlessly in the beginning.
“You just do better with makeup than I do,” I told her, following her out. “I must have looked rough.”
Trix laughed then and shook her head. “Oh, Angel, if life were as simple as you see it. Damn, girl, you should be more jaded with your history.”
I didn’t say anymore as we walked out onto the floor. It was time to become Angel. I had learned to leave Bryn back in the dressing room. My acting began now. Placing a smile on my face, I sauntered out into the club with my bare chest on display and my lips painted as red as the heels I wore.
Saint’s gaze locked with mine as he stood behind the bar, pouring a drink. I made sure that tonight, I would work extra hard at making the customers happy. I would smile more, wink, and be sure to stand at the tables longer than necessary. I wasn’t going to give Saint any reason to say I couldn’t do my job.
“Young and hot,” Trix whispered as we drew closer to the Elvis table.
I turned my attention to the table that was reserved by those who wanted a front row seat to the dancing onstage as well as two different servers to wait on them.
The smile I was determined to keep on my face tonight, however, was forgotten when a pair of familiar eyes met mine. Breathing also became difficult as my throat tightened from panic. The room seemed to close in around me, and suddenly, there was no one else here, no loud music, no voices. All I could see was the disgust in Rio March’s eyes.
Chapter Five
Rio
What the fuck? I stared at Bryn as the reality of this sank in. She was topless. In a strip club. Walking toward our table. Or she had been until she saw me. Holy hell.
“Hello, boys,” another female voice said, but I couldn’t focus on her or anything other than an almost-naked Bryn standing a few feet from me.
Drake was speaking now, but I wasn’t paying attention. Why was Bryn here, dressed like that? She had to work here. In a motherfucking strip club. Was there nothing of the girl I had once known left inside her?
A massive brick wall of a man with dreadlocks and tattoos appeared at her side then, and she swung her gaze up to him. He was touching her back. She wasn’t wearing any damn clothes, and he was touching her. I felt my hands fist at my sides as my blood began to simmer from rage.
What had happened to her over the years? She was nothing like the girl I had known.
Bryn was smiling again and saying something to the man, but he looked our way and didn’t look convinced. Then, his eyes found me watching them, and I met his steady glare head-on. What was she telling him? Was she dating him? He was a damn bouncer at a strip club.
She moved then and began walking toward me—or us. She didn’t look my way again, but I watched her as she walked up to Benji, Drake’s brother, who we were here for, celebrating his graduation from college. Benji lifted his eyes to her—or her tits.
Had she really sunk so damn low that she had no problem with using her body to make money? I was torn between being disgusted with her and being turned on. I hated that I was attracted to her at all. She was just like her sister. Maybe worse.
“I’m Angel,” I heard her say.
Then, Benji said something that I couldn’t make out with the noise, and she laughed. It was an excellent fake laugh. No one else here would know it was fake. No one but me. I had once thought she reminded me of an angel. How ironic that she went by that name now that the girl I’d once known no longer existed.
“Hey, sugar. You look familiar,” Drake said then, and her gaze swung to mine only briefly before she lifted a shoulder and gave him a small laugh.
“I have one of those f-faces,” she replied.
Drake laughed. “No, babe, you don’t. Those tits might have me proposing after a few drinks. Go ahead and start thinking about your answer.”
Unable to handle any more, I stood up abruptly, shoving my chair back as I did so. Bryn’s eyes swung to me. I could see the uncertainty there, and damn it, I wanted to wrap her up and take her out of here. I wasn’t sure what made me angrier. Her working here or my giving a fuck what she did.
“We need to talk,” I said to her.
The other server was there then, standing in front of Bryn. She was smiling at me in a way that was supposed to distract me, I was sure, but she wasn’t a part of our history.
“Ah, the girls on the floor just serve the drinks and food. If you want anything more, we do have a couple dancers here tonight that offer that kind of thing.” She winked at me.
“Bryn,” I said her name, needing her to say something.
“Oh fuck,” Drake said, realizing who she was now that I had said her name.
Bryn touched the other girl’s shoulder and whispered something to her, but the other server didn’t look happy about it. In fact, she was now glaring at me with a warning.
“This way,” Bryn said to me and turned, walking toward the door we had entered through.
I followed her, getting a view of how bare her ass was in the tiny bottoms she was wearing. She might as well be naked. I had guessed Bryn’s body was nice under her conservative clothing, but I had never imagined this. And damn if she wasn’t out, making money with it.
Where had the girl I knew gone? How had she changed so completely?
First, she’d bashed the fuck out of my Jeep, and now, this. It felt like losing someone. As if the girl from my past that I had cared about so deeply had died.
She stopped at the bar and spoke in a whisper to the tattooed bartender-slash-bouncer. He scowled at me, as if he was thinking of tossing me out. Bryn said something to him that made him look at her instead of me, and he shook his head, then pointed toward a red door far away from the entertainment.
When she looked back at me, she said, “Come on,” then started walking in that direction.
She didn’t say more or look back to see if I was following her. Instead, she kept walking until we were through the red door to a much quieter area that was empty. Bryn walked over to yet another door, then glanced back at me.
“W-w-wait here,” she said.
I stood there, battling internally about my reaction to this. Why do I care? She had beaten my Jeep up. I’d fired her from the market. It wasn’t as if I had kept up with her after that. I hadn’t wanted to see her. Now, she was here, serving drinks, naked, and I suddenly gave a shit.
