Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “Are you sure she’s never done this before?” Highway squinted at Jackie.

  “To S&M,” she sang with the music, flinging her arms wide.

  The Aussies roared and jumped to their feet.

  “Holy shit,” Highway croaked.

  Jackie slid around like a snake on the stage, accepting bills into the waistband of her shorts. Then she coiled away and slowly sauntered off the stage as the song wound down.

  “That was a hell of a way to warm up the room.” Highway said, and went back to his post by the door.

  She killed it. I hid a grin behind my hand, ridiculously proud of her. I noticed that some of the dancers weren’t so happy that Jackie had made such a splash on her first number. But they were reaping the benefits of the excited audience. Kikki and Mina took two of the bachelor party guys into the VIP room. Chance was all in, dancing by his chair this time, to Nalia’s gyrations to J Lo and Pitbull’s “On the Floor.”

  “Make sure Chance stays off the stage tonight,” I ordered Mav over the headset.

  Making my way back to the kitchen, I saw that we were a little short staffed, so I put a load of bar glasses into the dishwasher. “Where is everyone?” I asked Liu, my chef.

  “Paulie is a no-show. No answer at his house.” Paulie was the dishwasher. “Dee hasn’t been into work for two days. Her mother hasn’t seen her.” Dee was his sous chef. “And Zeke’s phone has been disconnected.” Zeke was a waiter.

  “What the actual fuck?” Was someone stalking my staff, discouraging them from coming to work?

  “Something in the water,” Liu grunted as he took stock of the supplies. “I need some help.”

  “What can I do?”

  Liu gave me a dismissive look. “You can stay the hell out of my kitchen. Go knock heads together and let me create.”

  I rolled my eyes. He made the best damn appetizers I’d ever tasted, and he did it cheap and made a ton of food. He kept me in the black almost as much as the liquor sales did and he knew it.

  “Then what do you need?” I wondered where I’d` put the number of that temp agency I used when the shit hit the fan.

  “I’ve got my cousins coming in. You’re going to pay them under the table for tonight.”

  I grunted. Not the way I wanted to do business, but I didn’t want a bunch of hungry, angry customers either. “They want permanent jobs?”

  “They’ve misplaced their social security cards.”

  Plugging my fingers in my ears, I said, “I don’t want to know about that.”

  “Cash at three a.m.”

  “Fine. But just for tonight.”

  I pushed thoughts of the legality of my kitchen staff tonight out of my mind for the moment. Liu would handle it. What the heck was going on? Like any bar in a tourist town, we had turnover, but most people gave notice or at least the courtesy of a phone call. Zeke, Paulie, and Dee had been at Dalton’s for over a year. For all three of them not to come in tonight was suspicious. And if Dee hadn’t checked in for two days, something was up.

  I went into the employee break room and glared at the missing staff’s lockers. They knew that I could search their lockers at any time. It was in their employee contract, but I hated doing it.

  “Mav,” I said over the headset. “Can you ask around and see if anyone’s heard from Zeke, Paulie, or Dee?” A thought hit me and I didn’t like it. “See if you can find out how friendly they were with Ginny or Broadway.”

  People moved on from Vegas all the time. They also got in trouble. Three people not answering their phones was suspicious. Four, if you counted Jackie’s sister. I remembered Ginny’s threats to me and suddenly they didn’t seem so silly.

  I cut the lock off of Zeke’s locker first. He had a change of clothes and a pair of sneakers that could use a wash or at least a good dousing with Febreze. I found a carton of cigarettes, an unopened pack of condoms, and about fifty one-dollar bills. But I didn’t see any clues on why he had bailed on us. Or signs that he was leaving for good. He would have at least taken the cash and the cigarettes.

  Dee’s locker was completely empty. I knew for a fact she kept an extra chef’s jacket and a change of clothes to change into after shift. So maybe Dee knew she wasn’t coming back. But for her not to tell Liu didn’t make any sense.

  I hit the jackpot with Paulie’s locker. A large plastic baggie of marijuana, a smaller one of pills, and a pistol. He also wouldn’t have left this behind if he’d cut and run. The pistol was loaded.

  “Stupid,” I muttered and unloaded it. I put the magazine into my pocket and the pistol into my pants in the center of my back. I stuffed the drugs into a fast food bag I found in the trash and hurried through the club to secure the drugs and the gun in the safe in my office. Grier was coming tomorrow and hopefully he’d have some insight on what was going on.

  It was a coincidence that I was back on the floor when Jackie’s second number came up. At least, that was what I told myself. She was in thigh-high, white-studded leather boots, with a matching cap and jacket. I could see flashes of her breasts inside the coat as she stomped and shook her hips to “Does Your Mother Know” from the movie Mamma Mia. She must have tipped the DJ, because Javi put the strobes up all over her so they caught the silver studs on the jacket and cap.

  She knew how to work the room. Her joy at being up there was infectious. Because she was sincerely having fun, so was everyone else. Most strippers played the crowd with vacant looks or practiced leers. Jackie was singing along to the music and entertaining the crowd, flirting outrageously. She had a way of making the man she looked at think he was the only one in the room. I was too far away for her to see me, but I had a bird’s-eye view of the spell she was weaving over the jaded crowd. Fresh and new, with a splash of youthful innocence, she was a big hit with the bachelor party.

  And the way she moved her body sent mine into overdrive.

  I didn’t date strippers. It wasn’t a rule. It was just good business sense. I was a shitty boyfriend because I was always working. But she wasn’t going to be here very long, and I couldn’t come up with a reason why I couldn’t be in Jackie’s bed tonight, especially if she was as eager to grind on me as she was last night.

  The jacket came off and her perky breasts jiggled free. She wore shiny pasties that sparkled in the flashing lights as she high kicked and threw herself into the music with her entire body. She used the pole as a dance partner, but I could see a few of Kiki’s moves when she twirled around. Jackie was a fast learner.

  She put her cap on Chance’s head and shimmied her chest at him.

  Mav was already there to put a restraining hand on his shoulder when Chance would have joined Jackie on the stage. Her hands went to the studded belt she wore. She snapped it free of the loops and her shorts fell to her ankles. She was wearing butt floss. My cock nearly jumped up and cheered. Then she kicked her shorts away and ended her song in a deep split.

  My mouth dropped open. If I had any business sense, I’d switch her to the prime-time slots. But I wanted to keep her all to myself.

  Chance held up his credit card. “To the VIP room.”

  My hands clenched into fists as Jackie took his hand after wrapping the belt over his shoulders. It was only Highway’s hand on my shoulder that stopped me from following.

  “Not a good idea, boss.”

  I thought it was a fucking great idea.

  “Did you know that Paulie was selling drugs out of the club?” I asked instead.

  Highway frowned. “I never saw anything, but it makes sense.”

  “Why?”

  “I couldn’t figure out why Ginny was fucking that little prick.”

  Paulie was the supplier. I had a solid lead for Grier. “What about Dee or Zeke?”

  “They weren’t fucking Paulie.”

  I supposed that was information that was important to someone. “Do you think they were selling to him or buying from him or Ginny?”

  “I don’t think so. They did hang out with the dancers
after their shifts.”

  “Which ones?”

  “The ones who had a side business after hours.”

  I snorted. That wasn’t drugs. That was sex. I didn’t care what the dancers did when they were off the clock and off my property, as long as it didn’t affect their jobs when they were on stage.

  “Did they hang around with Broadway?”

  “Zeke did. He was the only one who liked her. I don’t think she let him fuck her though.”

  Holding up a hand, I said, “I don’t care who is fucking who. What I want to know is what’s going on with my employees. They’re dropping like flies.”

  “Shit happens.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. My eyes slid over to the closed VIP door where Jackie and Chance had gone. “Has it been fifteen minutes yet?”

  “No, but Chance paid for an hour.”

  “What?” I whipped my head to Highway. “How the fuck do you know that?”

  He tapped his headset. “I heard her call it in. His card went through.”

  I usually didn’t need to be on the headset until later in the evening so I hadn’t turned on my Bluetooth. “That son of a bitch spent four hundred dollars on Jackie?”

  “La Vie Bohème,” Highway corrected me. “More like five twenty after the booze.”

  I forced my jaw to unclench.

  “And that’s not including tip,” he added helpfully.

  “Fuck.”

  “You shouldn’t get involved with strippers, boss. They’ll break your balls, your heart, and your bank account. And not necessarily in that order.”

  Just what I needed, love advice from my head bouncer. “Look, just ask around and keep your ears open. Find out everything you can about Paulie, Dee, and Zeke—especially if it has to do with Broadway. I don’t think Broadway’s white haired friend is going to come back.”

  “Where are you going?” Highway asked.

  “My office,” I snarled. If Zeke and Broadway met up outside of work, he might know where she was. Or if I was really lucky, Lisa would be with him and her sister could get off the stage and away from Chance fucking Bateman. I had some calls to make.

  Chapter Eight

  Jackie Mitchell

  I tried not to flinch as the door shut behind me. I carried in a bottle of Jose Cuervo and a tray with ice, glasses, salt, and lemons. My mind could barely tally what I was going to make this hour. It was at least two hundred dollars and I knew I got a cut when the client ordered premium booze. That wasn’t counting the fifty bucks I had already made in tips tonight.

  Or the tip Chance Bateman might leave me. Oh my God, Lisa would shit if she knew.

  “Poor me a drink, would ya luv?” he said in a sexy Australian accent.

  “S-sorry,” I said, hurrying to put the tray down on the table.

  “Join me in a shot?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  He licked his hand and I dotted the salt on it. I filled the shot glass with the Cuervo. Sucking the salt off his hand, he then tanked the shot and I popped the lemon wedge into his mouth. He grinned, showing me the rind of the lemon over his teeth.

  I laughed at his antics and relaxed a bit.

  “Your turn,” he said. “You look like you could use one.”

  “It’s my first night.” I licked my hand and blushed at his appreciative look.

  “No shit.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only because you haven’t sat on my lap yet.”

  I nearly dropped the shot I had just poured myself. “Am I supposed to?”

  “Not if you don’t want to,” he said with a smile, and took the shot out of my hand and tanked it.

  “I don’t think that’s how it works,” I said, reluctantly. I handed him a lemon slice, but he waved me off.

  “It is with me. But I am going to make you pour me a real drink.”

  I couldn’t believe how relieved I was to hear him say that, and I quickly blinked back tears so he wouldn’t see. My bravado that had gotten me this far was rapidly fading away as the adrenaline from being on stage wore off. Chance Bateman was hotter than the sun, and was even more attractive because he was kind and funny. But I didn’t want to grind on his lap. I didn’t mind being nearly naked in front of him, mostly because he wasn’t leering, and his admiration was a confidence builder. But there was only one man I wanted to rub against in the VIP room, and he probably was busy in the club making sure no one was out of line. “How would you like your drink?” I asked.

  “On the rocks with a salted rim and a twist of lemon.”

  I figured out how to create that, and handed it to him.

  “Feel free to make yourself one.”

  Looking at the tequila bottle longingly, I sighed. “If you want me to dance, I shouldn’t.”

  “Are you okay with dancing?”

  “I love it.” I felt the last of my nervousness slip away. Chance didn’t turn me on, but he made me feel safe.

  Leaning back into the couch, he waved at me to start.

  “Music on,” I said. “Play ‘Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing’ by Chris Isaak.”

  “Good choice.” He crossed his legs and winced. It reminded me of Lisa. Chance must have hurt his knee at some point.

  I lost myself in the music, using the entire room to dance, leap, and shimmy. It should have been tawdry, and I should have been embarrassed that I was, for all intents and purposes, naked with a strange man. But I wasn’t. When I looked over, Chance was smiling at me, content to watch. Considering all the times I’d stared at his ass on Lisa’s poster, it felt like turnabout was fair play.

  He even clapped for me when the song was done. I gave him my best diva bow. A deep curtsy where I pretended I had a large bouquet of roses in my arms.

  “Have a drink and a seat. You deserve it.”

  “I do,” I agreed. “Let me refresh yours.”

  “That’s a good girl,” he said with that sexy accent, flirting with a smoldering look through impossibly long lashes.

  It was the same one from his calendar and I couldn’t help grinning back.

  After I fixed our drinks, I joined him on the couch. He turned to face me, and I tried not to think about yesterday when Miles and I almost broke rule number one. I shoved down the disappointment that we hadn’t.

  “I’ve got to know,” Chance began.

  “What’s a nice girl like me doing in a place like this?” I finished.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Dalton’s is one of my favorite titty bars and I love Miles like a brother. He saved my life.”

  “He did?”

  “I was about to get beaned with a beer bottle and Miles took it on his forearm instead. Ten stitches.”

  “Wow,” I said. “He’s like Superman.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Chance said. “But he’s a good bloke to have on your side in a fight.”

  “I’m here looking for my sister, Lisa.”

  Chance made a show of looking around. “I don’t see her. But I’ve got plenty of credit left on my card if she shows up. Sisters.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

  I couldn’t help but laugh, but I had to look away.

  “What’s wrong, luv?”

  “I wish I could invite her to join us. She’s a huge fan. I’ve seen you in a towel many times.”

  He grimaced. “I’m embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be. You have a really nice smile.”

  Chance barked out a laugh. “Hey, that’s my line.”

  “And you’ve got a great ass.”

  He clinked his glass with mine. “Right back atcha. So where is your sister?”

  His accent made it sound like sis-tah.

  “I wish I knew. The last anyone saw her was here about three weeks ago. She doesn’t answer my or our parents’ calls. She moved out of her apartment in New York after her ACL surgery.”

  “Fuck.” Chance got very still. “She was an athlete?”

  “Lead dancer on Broadway. Her whole life ended
when they told her she couldn’t dance again.”

  Chance stared down into his drink and swirled the ice around, a pensive look on his face.

  “She came to Vegas. First as a bartender, then as a stripper. But I think her leg gave out. I tracked her to her apartment, but she left her roommate in the lurch. The only clues I’ve got to go on are that she told her roommate she’d found a job with room and board, and there was a guy who came to Dalton’s to see her a few times.”

  Chance leaned forward. “So you decided to become a stripper to see if that guy comes back?”

  “That and maybe if the other dancers start to trust me, they’ll remember something about Lisa. Some clue that will help me find her. I was more pissed than worried when I came down here. But now I’m wondering if my mother wasn’t overreacting after all.”

  “How long are you planning on staying?”

  “I’ve got another week before I have to go back to New York.”

  “New Yawk,” he teased.

  “You’re going to talk about my accent?”

  “Tawk.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do you want me to dance again?”

  “If you want,” he said.

  He had to be the easiest client I would ever get. I wanted to make sure he got his money worth. “Music on. ‘Bad Things’ by Jace Everett.”

  “The True Blood theme song. I loved that show.”

  “The books were better,” I said as I started the routine.

  “They always are.” He watched me for a while. “I’m guessing you’re a Broadway dancer too?”

  My chest swelled with pride that he thought I was talented enough to be on Broadway. Chance Bateman was good for my ego. He was going to ruin me for all other clients. “Not yet. I’m Lisa’s manager.”

  “You’re talented.”

  “Lisa’s better,” I said, like I always did.

  “Not anymore,” he said, and the bitterness in his voice threw me off my rhythm. But his face almost immediately cleared, and I wondered if I’d imagined it. I finished the song more out of breath than I thought I’d be. I was starting to feel a twinge in my calves. I wasn’t used to dancing like this.