by Monica James
I attempt to push past him, but he steps to the left, blocking my path. Squashing down my rage, I arch a brow, silently asking what the fuck he’s doing. He doesn’t speak, which infuriates me all the more. The last time we were together, it seems he couldn’t stop talking.
The memory of him telling me what a desperate, unlovable loser I am still cuts deep. But I refuse to show him I’m hurt.
His astute eyes scan the contents of my open bag. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he actually gave a fuck about me. “Where are you going?”
“None of your business. Move.” Once again, I try to shove past him, but he stands his ground.
“So it’s okay for you to spy on me?” he says, drawing attention to the light bruising on his face. “But I can’t ask you a question?”
Deadpanning him, I reply, “I gave you all the answers, and in return, you threw them in my face. Besides, I think I made myself pretty clear the last time I saw you. In case you need a reminder, however, don’t speak to me ever again.”
I push past him, but he snares my bicep, which infuriates me. Ripping from his hold, I shove at his chest, setting him off balance. “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again.” He must be able to read my rage because he slowly raises his hands in surrender. A sight I’ve not seen before. But it’s too little, too late.
“You’re pathetic. You act all big and tough, but deep down, you’re afraid. You think I’m unlovable, but you’re the one who can’t even love yourself. You’re a fucking coward.”
I’m waiting for some smart-ass reply, but I get nothing.
“And for the record, I don’t want to fuck you.” I curl my lip, repulsed. “All I wanted was to be your friend.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows deeply. I hope he fucking chokes.
“Goodbye, Bull. I’d say it was fun, but that’s a total lie. Your clumsy groping is already forgotten.”
I don’t give him time to get a word in edgewise because when I push past him, he moves this time. Walking from the club with my head held high, I don’t look back. And it feels good.
“There she is. My beauty.” Carlos opens his arms, laying on the charm, while I roll my eyes.
“Stop it with that shit.” I smack his arms away from me, not interested in hugging my new boss.
He laughs in response. “Let me show you to your dressing room and then you can sign your contract.”
The thought of a contract scares me, but it was the only way Carlos would agree to what I wanted.
Blue Bloods is like being upgraded from coach to first class. I can see why the place is notorious among the pervs of Detroit and abroad. The Pink Oyster was more your stereotypical dark and seedy strip club, but Blue Bloods is anything but that.
This place looks like a country club where they’ve just added a stage with a stripper pole. There are tables scattered throughout the club with stripper poles attached in the center. This means more than one dancer is on the floor at a time.
Elegant paintings adorn the walls, and a chandelier hangs above the main stage. The stylish décor gives off a prestigious, upper-class vibe. I can imagine this allows the clientele justification for coming here.
There is no stigma associated with this place because it’s not a strip club—it’s a ‘gentlemen’s club.’ But I doubt any of the patrons are that.
Following Carlos down the red carpeted hallway, I see quite a few private rooms. I don’t know how many girls work here, but judging by the size, I dare say a lot. I really should have done my homework, but the truth is, it wouldn’t have made a difference.
I’m here for a reason, and that reason is to make cash fast.
“This is your room.” When he opens a door and I see a room decked out in the finest furniture and my own private bathroom, I laugh because surely, he’s joking. But when he gestures for me to enter, I realize he’s not.
“This is my dressing room? Like no one else’s but mine?” I ask, stepping past him and peering around the room in awe.
“Yes, of course it is. I told you, nothing but the best for you.”
Holy shit.
Gaping at the small chandelier and plush velvet couch, I see that he wasn’t joking. The vanity makeup table has a large mirror attached. There are light bulbs around the edge. It’s fit for any performer.
There is an alcove in the wall where I can hang my clothes. As well as shelving. The bathroom door is open, and when I see it’s fitted with a shower, I can’t help but yelp in excitement. “This is incredible. Thank you,” I say, unable to believe this is my room.
I’ve only dreamed of something like this. Yes, the room was in a theater where I would perform ballet, but this is an impressive runner-up.
Carlos comes up behind me and grasps my biceps. I allow him to touch me because I can’t sense any seediness for now. “You’re welcome. I’ll let you get settled. You sure you’re okay to work tonight?”
“Yes.” There isn’t a moment to waste.
Jordy is spending the night at Patrick’s. I wanted to make sure he was okay with staying at Erika’s again. When he practically shoved me out the door, I realized it was more than okay. I explained I would be working extra shifts for the next couple of months, but promised it was only temporary, and it is.
When I get enough money together, I am done with this life. Buying the academy is not only for Avery, it’s for me as well. I didn’t realize how much I wanted it until I was presented with the opportunity.
It’s a career I don’t have to lie about. For the first time in a long time, I have hope.
I will ensure Avery is well looked after and won’t endure her illness alone. She doesn’t have much time, which means I will work around the clock to make every single moment she has left precious.
Carlos turns me, so I’m facing the mirror, and we both look at my reflection. “Do you know what I see?”
I shake my head slowly.
“A star,” he reveals. “Welcome home.”
Smiling, I appreciate the welcoming committee but subtly shrug from his hold. For this to work, he needs to keep his hands to himself because nothing will ever happen between us.
He reads my retreat, but something about his demeanor is almost cocky. Maybe he thinks he’s won? But there are no winners here. Only people trying to survive.
He leaves me alone, allowing me to take this all in. I have my outfits in my bag, but when I walk over to the rack of clothes, I realize my outfits look like rags compared to the ones Carlos wants me to wear. They are slutty but still classy enough to keep the patrons guessing what I look like underneath them.
I made it clear to Carlos that I won’t go full nude, and he agreed—for now. I really don’t know why he’s been so accommodating, but I suppose there’s only one way to find out. Moving the coat hangers along the rail, I choose an outfit, ready to shine.
I called Jordy to make sure he was all right. He was fine. I was the one who wasn’t fine. I can’t help but feel like a bad mom. Working all these extra hours takes time away from him. But I remind myself it’s only temporary.
A knock on the door interrupts my pity party, and I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes. “Come in.”
The door opens, and a young woman pokes her head in. “Hi. I’m Kath, but my stage name is Dallas.”
“Hi, Kath,” I say, coming to a stand.
When she sees the outfit I’ve opted for, she whistles. “Holy crap. I can see why Carlos has been bragging about you.”
I smile, adjusting the small black dress that looks like it was designed by Freddy Kruger. There are slashes all over it, revealing a lot of skin, but the magic of double-sided tape ensures no mishaps. “Let’s hope he doesn’t change his mind when he sees me dance. What’s it like out there?”
Kath closes the door, which leads me to believe she wants privacy. “The place may look fancy, but believe me, the moment any man steps into a place where half-naked women are, he turns into a fraternity pledge.”
I can’t
help but laugh.
“Carlos has put you on table three to learn the ropes. I’m dancing across from you. If you have any trouble, just let me know. You’ll be dancing the main stage in no time.” I instantly like Kath. She seems genuine, and in this industry, that’s hard to find.
“Are you ready?”
Nodding, I spray myself one final time with my favorite perfume and slip into my monster heels.
“We’ve got a couple of minutes to spare. But Bossman doesn’t like anyone to be late.”
“Tell Carlos to take a chill pill,” I tease, but when Kath shakes her head, I realize there is a lot more to the story.
“Carlos is the manager, the face of the club, but he isn’t the boss or the money behind this place.”
This is news to me.
Kath fans her blushing cheeks dramatically. “No one knows his name, but Bossman suits him perfectly.”
I think of another man whose name suited him perfectly too. Bull…Bull was full of bullshit. But I refuse to taint my new future with thoughts of him.
I wonder why Carlos never mentioned this to me.
“He’s barely around, preferring to be behind the scenes, which is a shame because he is damn fine.” She bites her knuckle playfully.
“Well, I’m steering clear of men, so whether he’s here or not makes no difference to me.”
The bitterness in my tone hints of a reason for my distaste toward the opposite sex, but Kath doesn’t press for now. We exit my dressing room and walk down the corridor. The lights have dimmed, and the dance music pounding from the main room indicates that business is in full swing.
My heart is beating wildly; I’m nervous to be performing in a new club. The reality of what I’m doing hits home, and I suddenly question my decision. Have I done the right thing?
Now isn’t the time to second-guess myself because when Kath parts the red velvet curtain and takes my hand, we are no longer Lily and Kath—we’re Tigerlily and Dallas. The place is packed, which is surprising since it’s still relatively early. But I feed off the energy in the air because, ironically, these assholes are my ticket out of here.
Dallas escorts me to my table and smirks. It seems my company for the evening is a group of men celebrating a bachelor party. It’s no secret men out celebrating the end of an era for their friend results in great tips. So when one of them stands and offers me his hand to help me onto the table, I accept with a sultry smile.
Even though I loathe dancing to pop music, I find the beat and let loose, instantly luring the men in. They sit tall, watching me closely as I use my body to entice them. With the alcohol and good times flowing freely, so does the money. The men reach into their pockets, and I mask my surprise at seeing their large wads of cash secured with gold money clips. Instead of dollar bills, they toss tens and twenties at my feet. It seems everyone here is a George.
The sight has me forgetting why I’m here, and when I look into the hungry eyes of the men around me, they soon replace the blue green kiss from hell. Bull is part of the reason I’m here, and in some ways, I should thank him.
If he wasn’t such a jerk, I wouldn’t have left, but when I see the stack of twenties on the table, I’m glad I met him because he’s made me realize my true worth.
For the next twenty minutes, I give my audience a show they’ll never forget. To them, I’m untouchable. A goddess who is perfect. And at this moment, I am. I forget my troubles and the fact I have feelings, yes feelings, for someone who sees me as nothing. But no more. I’m done being runner-up.
When the song is over, the men stand and clap loudly as wolf whistles fill my ears. Compared to the surrounding tables, mine is covered with a large amount of money, hinting I was a hit. I give the men a sassy wave goodbye as Carlos said I wasn’t to gather my tips like some common whore. And I like that.
But when someone offers me their hand to help me down from the table, and I lock eyes with him, my newfound confidence takes a nosedive. It’s Andre. And it appears he works here too.
Not wanting to ruin the façade, I smile and accept his hand. He doesn’t say anything to me, but he doesn’t need to. The fact he has fading bruising on his face and his nose looks like it was recently broken does all the talking.
Once my feet hit the floor, I yank my hand from Andre’s and make my way through the club. Every part of me is trembling because I suddenly remember when I’ve looked into those eyes before. I part the red velvet curtain and mask my hysteria until I dive into the safety of my dressing room.
Slamming the door shut, I lean against it, panting loudly and pressing a hand over my racing heart. I’m transported back to the time when my heart was beating just as wildly as it is now…and that was the night I was attacked.
At the time, my attacker’s eyes looked familiar. I brushed it off as nothing, but now, I realize I should have listened to my gut. My attacker was known to me. I just didn’t know it until now.
My masked assailant finally has a name, and that name is Andre. So now, the question I’m faced with is…why?
Bull
My plan was supposed to be simple—find the men who killed my brother and make them pay. One has paid with his life, and another is on the way to suffering the same fate because it turns out I can be quite charming when I want to be.
It didn’t take long for me to win Kong over.
We both wanted something from the other—he wanted me to make him rich, and me, I wanted him dead. We both needed the other to fulfill our wants. It’s just too bad for him that he won’t live long enough to see his dreams come true.
Having a drink with my brother’s killer is as stupid as it sounds. But to get what I want, I need to be a chameleon, which is why I’m sitting in some shady ass bar downtown, waiting for Kong. It’s been two weeks since I won my first fight, and since then, I’ve won four more.
My opponents have been pathetic competition, or maybe they haven’t been because whenever I see Kong, a rage overtakes me, and it’s like I become possessed. I need to destroy anything in my path. And when he enters the bar, those murderous feelings overthrow me, but I reach for my beer, needing something to do other than strangling him with my hands.
He flags the pretty waitress down, hinting he wants his usual, whatever the fuck that may be. “Hercules,” he playfully teases as he takes a seat across from me in the booth.
This nickname is one he’s dubbed for me as though we’re friends. Every time he uses it, I want to rip out his tongue and feed it to him, but I suck it up and smirk.
“Sup, brother.” It kills me to refer to him this way, but its double meaning is done with intent. It’s because of my brother that I’m here.
“Sorry I’m late. You’re lucky you ain’t married anymore.” He turns over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for the waitress.
“Fucking A,” I reply, keeping to my story of leaving my family behind in Seattle. “Bitches are only good for one thing.”
Kong bursts into husky laughter while bile rises. “Amen.”
The waitress places a bottle of beer onto the table, smiling when Kong tips her a twenty. “Keep them comin’, sweetheart.”
She nods shyly while Kong checks out her ass as she walks away. “What I would do with a piece of cherry pie like that,” he hums, licking his thick lips.
I chuckle in response, but I’m far from laughing on the inside.
“Thanks for meeting me. I wanted to talk to you.”
I nod, hinting for him to continue.
“Boss is impressed with you. And so am I. He wants you on his team, full time.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask, leaning casually back into the booth.
Kong looks around, ensuring no one is listening. “The next fight, it’s scheduled in some shithole strip club. The Pink Oyster.” I keep my cool. “You know of it?”
“No,” I reply calmly.
Kong takes a long sip of beer before leaning over the table. “I know of it real well. The boss is in financial trouble, and he’s
offered to help her out.”
Keeping my poker face in check, I ask, “What does that mean?”
“The stupid bitch has no idea.” He snickers while I clench my bottle of beer. “Boss has plans for that place. He is going to invest and help her out of debt, but in reality, he’s doing so because he needs a business to help keep his books legal.”
That motherfucking asshole.
“It will look like he’s running a legitimate business, but in reality, it’s the perfect ruse for his dirty money. No one will know. He will keep her as his partner because she won’t rouse any suspicions with the Feds. The fight is just an excuse for him to proposition her.”
“If the cops find out about the money laundering, she will go down too.” My voice is even, but I’m barely holding on.
“Actually, only she will. He will be a silent partner, and if anything happens, he’ll make sure it’ll all fall back on her.”
The leather creaks beneath me as my body hums with utter rage.
“What’s wrong?” Kong asks suspiciously, mid sip of his beer.
I need to pull my shit together. If I don’t, Lotus will pay. “Nothing. Was just wondering if this owner was single?”
Kong’s face relaxes, and he smirks. That was way too close. I need to get my head, not my heart, in the game.
“Anyway,” he continues, wiping the beer from his lips with the back of his hand. “Boss is going to come watch you fight. He wants to check out the club as well. He can make you a very rich man. All the money and pussy you could ever want is within reach. Trust me. Whatever he offers you, you’d be stupid to say no.”
He looks at me with those dull eyes, expecting me to thank him.
I have a role to play, so I nod. “Thanks for telling me all this. I don’t want to be caught with my dick in my hand when I meet him.”
“No problem, bro. Besides, it’ll be fun to tag team with you. The strippers who work there have major daddy issues and will do anything for a tip.” When he wiggles his eyebrows and slurs, “One chick there, Tigerlily, holy shit, she is a mouthy little bitch who needs some manners fucked into her,” I slam both my fists onto the table, which tips my bottle and spills beer all over the surface.
