Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
In the twenty minutes I spend warming up with her, I learn that she is twenty-three and has been a dancer for the past two years. She doesn’t say anything about who got her into the club or divulge any obvious fear about working for the Irish mafia. Not that I expect her to blab right away, but I decide that maybe if I wear her down a little later she’ll give something up.
In the meantime, I put on my best smile and try to act my age for once. When the other dancers file into the dressing room, I quickly realize that this might not be as breezy as I anticipated. Scarlett warned me how competitive this industry is, and that most of the clubs are just like being back in high school. Between the dirty looks and catty comments, it’s quite obvious I’m considered enemy number one at the moment. This isn’t helping my chances of getting any information from the girls, but I try not to let it get to me. My main concern is getting close to the Russians. I need to know firsthand what happens to the women that entertain them.
I retouch my makeup with Sasha while some of the other girls chatter around us. When a tall brunette with bronzed skin and a statuesque body starts running her mouth, I try to ignore her. I’ve been around the block enough times to know how these games work. At first, it’s just little comments. She says something about me not paying house fees. Then something else about me not doing lap dances, because I think I’m better than them. But when her words fail to provoke an external reaction from me, she moves on to the big guns. She props her hip against the vanity and eyes me with disdain.
“Would you get a look at her?” she snaps her gum. “Exotic dancer my ass. She’s probably been giving hummers in back alleys for five dollars.”
A couple of the other girls snicker, and Sasha clears her throat. “Mandy…”
Mandy doesn’t stop. In fact, she takes things up a notch. By calling me the worst thing one girl can call another. “Is Lachlan on crack or what? Hiring this fricken’ slam pig.”
Oh, hell no. She did not just call me a fricken’ slam pig. I’m up and in her face before I can stop myself.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“You heard me.” She grins and draws out the words with dramatic hand gestures. “You’re a skeezah.”
“Jesus, Mandy.” One of the other girls tries to pull her away. “Are you off your head? That’s the girl that took Donovan out at the fights.”
“You think I give a shit?” Mandy spits. “Get a look at her. What’s she gonna’ do to me? Huh?”
“I’m gonna’ murder you if you keep runnin’ your mouth.”
Before I get a chance to carry through on it, Sasha tugs me away and takes me across the room to cool my jets. I’ve always been a hot-head, but I have to be. On the streets, you can’t take shit from no one. And if this were any other place, I would have held my ground. But I need this stupid job, and like it or not, I need these girls to trust me.
“Don’t worry about them honey,” Sasha says.
“Frigging slam pig,” I mutter. “She’s the slam pig.”
“They’re just jealous because word got around that you’re Lachlan’s girl,” Sasha explains.
“That’s not true,” I deny vehemently. “And besides, I’m pretty sure he hates my guts.”
She raises her delicate brows and leans a little closer, talking in a whisper. “He told all of his crew there’s a strict hands-off policy in effect for you. These guys won’t even look at you now. Why else would he do that unless he wants you for himself?”
I know exactly why. Because he doesn’t trust me. These guys are territorial of their women by nature, but I really don’t think that’s what’s going on here. They are also protective as hell of their brethren.
I glance back at the other dancers, who are all stealing little glances my way. “So that’s why they’re all pissy with me?”
“Yep.” Sasha nods. “Some of these girls have been pulling out all the stops to get what you just did in like five minutes.”
“It wasn’t five minutes,” I argue. “And I didn’t even do anything.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, honey.” She holds up her hands. “I’m just sayin’. You should probably watch out for Mandy. She’s got it bad for him and she can be a real bitch.”
“Good to know.” I glance across the room and find the woman in question. My inner tiger opens her claws when she tosses me another glance and gives me a phony smile. I can already tell she’s not going to make this easy for me. Little does she know I’d be glad to let her have Lachlan so I can focus on what I need to do.
At least that’s what I tell myself as I stand up and make my way to the stage entrance. It’s just a game. And Lachlan is nothing to me. Nothing at all.
***
For my two song set, I’ve chosen Closer by Nine Inch Nails followed up with Manson’s Heart Shaped Glasses. Lachlan might have only given me two songs, but he didn’t say anything about the length of music. And the more stage time I get, the better. He might be trying to stack the odds against me, but at the end of the day, men are still men.
I’m wearing a leather studded monokini and knee high black boots as I step onto stage. The VIP area has only about ten patrons total, and it’s a much more intimate setting than I was expecting. Tonight there also a few Russians in the audience just as I had hoped. They are pretty easy to pick out because of their tattoos. Not to mention they don’t dress like the Irish. I’ll be watching all of them with laser focus during my performance.