“He doesn’t own me,” I mutter, dumping my bag on the bench and shrugging off my zip-up hoodie.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Ugh, he’s my brother’s mate who thinks he can ‘fix’ me or whatever.” I wave her off, really not wanting to go into this. “I need this job, Dakota, no matter what his opinion might be about it.”
“I know you do, kid, but I can’t risk him going all alpha on your arse like he did last night. It’s bad for business. If the men start thinking they have a right to manhandle my girls, then I’m fucked.”
“I get that, I do, and I’m really sorry he did that. But I need this. Please. Put me in one of the back rooms until he gets bored of trying to be my keeper.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why? Because I’m young? That’s bullshit and you know it. I’m just as good as the rest of the girls, if not more desirable because of my age. Wasn’t that what you said to me when you hired me?”
“Damn it, Kas.”
“Just give me a chance. If you get any complaints about my… services, then you won’t see me again after tonight.”
A ball of dread explodes in my stomach at knowing what I’m offering. I know what some of the girls do in the back rooms, but fuck, I’m desperate, and it’s either the guys who are paying for the privilege or it’s Jet’s guys. I know which is the better end of the deal, so I’ll take it with both hands, thank you very much.
“I’m not happy about this.”
“I don’t need you to be happy, I just need you to let me do it.”
She blows out a frustrated breath. “Alicia,” she shouts to one of the other girls, “I need you out on the main stage tonight. Kas is taking over your room.”
“What?” she barks, clearly pissed off. It’s understandable; the back rooms are where the real money’s at.
“Suck it up, Alicia. Now let’s get sorted. Showtime in thirty, ladies.” With that, Dakota flounces out of the dressing room, leaving hard, angry eyes on me.
“What?” I bark. All the women in here might be older and more experienced in this line of work than me but I’ve no doubt I could take each and every one of them if they were to try something. They look like the kind of bitches who’ll slap and scratch with their fake arse nails. I bet they’ve never punched someone in their lives.
I make quick work of getting ready. I pull on a white lace underwear set, complete with stockings and suspenders and my heels. I always go for white, it helps to show off my ‘innocence’. I laugh to myself. Innocent, what a fucking joke. I’m pretty sure my innocence was stolen before I even knew what the word meant with the life I’ve been forced to live.
“You got what it takes to be what the guys in that room need, kid?” Alicia asks, stopping behind me where I’m topping up my make-up in the mirror.
“More so than you, I’m sure.” Her eyes narrow, but I don’t give her the time of day and focus on my red lipstick.
“Watch your fucking back, kid. That room is mine, and everyone knows it.”
“You do realise how that makes you sound, right? We all know what you do, in there. Just because it happens in a warm room with security on hand, it doesn’t make you any better than the girls on the street corner.”
Her face turns tomato red. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Pushing the stool out behind me, I turn to her. She’s taller than me, no shock there, so I tilt my head to look into her eyes.
“Watch your back, Alicia,” I seethe before throwing my stuff in my locker and heading toward what she considers her room.
The room in question is dark. The walls are covered in black flocked wallpaper, the bench style seating wrapped around two of the walls covered in black velvet. There’s a pole right in the centre up on a small stage, and the ceiling is mirrored.
But it isn’t the decoration that I pay much attention to, because the second the door shuts behind me, a trickle of apprehension runs through me.
Being up on stage with loads of eyes on me is one thing, but being shut in a room with just one guy really is another.
Suddenly, I understand Dakota’s reluctance to allow me to do this.
It’s safer, I tell myself. I’m more likely to get through an entire shift without Spike—or worse, Zach—causing such a scene that Dakota does fire me.
After a few seconds, the low bass of the music fills the room, telling me that the night is really getting started outside the door.
I guess all I do now is wait for my first client.
I run my slightly sweaty palms down my thighs—not that it does much as I hesitantly perch my arse on the edge of the seat.
The lighting is so dim in here that I can hardly see the door at the other side of the room. I guess it’s meant to heighten the sense of anticipation or whatever, but right now, all it’s doing is making my heart gallop.
I have no idea how much time passes. It feels like a fucking lifetime, but the reality is that it’s probably no more than ten minutes when the sound of the door opening cuts through the room.
My spine straightens as I push to stand. I give myself a talking to and take a step forward, waiting for the guy to show himself.
My lip curls in disgust as I think about the fact that it’s probably some old, fat and smelly man who’s coming in here for a special Sunday night treat.
My stomach turns over, but when the guy steps into the light, I realise just how very wrong I
