I shake my head. “I have no idea. Maybe.” I look around the room for Colin and Mick but can’t see far enough into the space to see much of anything.
“Let’s go to the bar,” Alissa says. “I need a juice or something. I think my blood sugar is low.”
I glare at her as I hesitate. “Are you serious? Are you having a medical issue right now? Right in the middle of our recon mission?”
“No, I’m not having a medical problem. I’m having a thirst problem. And I’m hungry. I’m eating for two, you know. I haven’t eaten since lunchtime.”
Instead of making a scene and pointing out how many times I tried to talk her out of coming with us, I bring her over to the bar. A semi-hot guy with too much muscle for my taste and a leather vest that would have been better left in the eighties pours me a beer and Alissa an orange juice.
“Yuck. It’s concentrated,” she says, her face scrunched up and her nostrils going out sideways.
I can’t help but smile. “Did you seriously expect a strip club to serve you fresh-squeezed orange juice?”
She stares down into the glass. “I guess not.”
I take a sip of my beer and look around the room again. There are dark corners all over the place, several created by strategically-placed booths and walls between them. I can only imagine what’s going on in them since the only thing I can see clearly from where I’m standing is the stage and a few tables around it. I’m about to suggest we cruise the floor when the lights blink on and off and then a voice comes out over some speakers somewhere.
“Gentlemen! Ladies! Get your seat in the front row because we have a special treat for you tonight. All the way from Orlando, Florida … put your hands together for our special guest dancer Kiki!” Music blares out of the speakers next, mostly beats and some techno rhythm. I think it’s a song from Nine Inch Nails, but I can’t be sure; it’s been re-mixed or something.
I can’t not look at the stage at this point. I don’t even know who this chick is, but I want to see what all the fuss is about. The seats around the pole are already full in seconds and guys are standing around behind them, pulling money out of their wallets as they get ready to pay out for the hootchie.
“Oooo, it’s a show,” says Alissa, sipping her orange juice through a tiny bar straw. “I’ve never seen one of these before.”
A guy nearby glances back and then does a double-take when he sees her belly. She winks at him and he turns around quickly.
I laugh. “Well played, pregnant lady. Well-played.”
“Hey, some guys think pregnancy is sexy.” She shrugs, going back to making out with her straw.
“I’m pretty sure no one in here does,” I say, scoffing at the very idea. I wonder if pregnancy can make a women clinically insane. I know for a fact it at least makes them delusional.
A woman appears on stage and the music becomes more recognizable. Yeah. Definitely Nine Inch Nails. She’s wearing a business suit outfit with a very short pencil skirt and pearls around her neck. She even has big, black-framed glasses on. I think she’s supposed to look like a conservative librarian of some sort, but there’s no way she could pull that off. She’s way too tall, way too pretty, and way, way too sexy. I feel like a toad in comparison. I nervously look around the room for Mick. If he sees her anywhere near me, I’m done for.
The first words of the song come out of the speakers: You let me violate you.
“Oh my god,” Alissa says. “She is amazing. Do you see her? She hasn’t even taken her clothes off yet, and look … they’re giving her money!”
“Come on,” I say, taking her by the elbow and dragging her down the bar. “Let’s go find some people to talk to.” She’s calling way too much attention to us the way she’s pointing.
I get to the end of the bar and stop when I see a table mostly around the corner from a wall that lies between us and the far end of the club. The girls from that office we were waiting outside of are all there, sitting around a few tables pushed together. At that same table are faces I recognize. Mick and Colin. And they’re both smiling and laughing and holding mugs of beer.
My lips pinch together like I just bit into a lemon.
“Oh, goody. They’re doing recon,” says Alissa leaning into me and yelling in my ear. “Now we can just watch the show.” She turns back around to face the stage. “Can you see that Kiki girl? Those guys are too tall! They’re blocking my view!” Several of the tall view-blockers in front of us turn around, because it’s impossible to not hear her. One of them doesn’t turn back after realizing she’s pregnant. He sees her belly and smiles. It’s beyond creepy.