“JoJo, why didn’t you tell me before?” His tone is soft, his face concerned.
“I didn’t think you’d be game if you knew.”
He smirks, shakes his head slightly. “Well, I’m not sure if I could have resisted, to be honest. You have no fucking clue how hot you are.”
“Shut up,” I tell him, pulling my hands away. But he grabs them back.
“JoJo, honestly, listen to me. I know this was a one-time thing, that you wanted to lose your virginity for whatever reasons you had—and, don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask. It’s none of my business, honestly. But hear me on this: you are fucking amazing, and I’m a lucky man to have been your first. Because, sweetheart, you literally nailed it.”
I know my face is red and that my chest is flushed—from both the sex and the sincerity of McQueen’s speech—but for a moment, maybe even a minute, I hear him. And I feel amazing.
I wanted to go all in with him, and I did.
I have a month, give or take, until my life changes forever, on terms that aren’t my own. But this moment right here? It’s mine. And McQueen didn’t take it away from.
In fact, he made it so much better.
Chapter Five
McQueen
After saying goodbye to JoJo, I get in my Jeep and head to Hearts Royalle, the new club Ace, Landon, and Jack have built. It opens in a week, and they have me headlining the first show. You know—bring in the big talent and hope the ladies are soaking their panties in excitement before I even step on stage.
It’ll be sad to say goodbye to Stripped, since it’s been the hottest male dance ticket for the last two years–but times are changing and Ace, as the owner, knows that.
Ashley Fast, Jack’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, has signed a six-month contract at the Spades Royalle, which is a perfect segue for me to start this new show here.
The new place caters to women–and what do women want when they go out in Vegas? They want men, wanting them. They want men, dancing with them. They want men, stripping for them.
I’ve never had a problem giving women what they want.
I park outside the mammoth building, where crews have been working around the clock for a month straight, ever since we returned from Landon and Claire’s wedding in England.
The space is on point for sure. The three story building itself is bright white, with pale pink trim. Inside, pink and light-grey velvet covers the interior, chandeliers dripping with crystals hang from the ceiling, and there’s soft lighting that will flatter every woman as they walk across the pink-carpeted club.
Ace’s and Landon’s wives, Emmy and Claire, along with their best friend Tess, have weighed in about every design choice. They haven’t been wrong. Everything is a woman’s wet dream ... err, fantasy. When the club opens, scantily clad men will run the coat check, deliver drinks, and deal at the tables.
Gambling isn’t going to be the only option here. Most women will come for the talent behind the thick curtains in the two-story dance club, called The Cockpit, where I’ll be performing.
There’s plenty of other talent for hire in The Cockpit, and I’m betting most of the action will take place in private dances held in the many VIP rooms. Think about what men do at strip clubs, and reverse it.
Women, for the first time in Vegas history, will be able to get private lap dances. And while no one is promoting anything more ... what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
“The place is looking dope, boys,” I say, announcing myself as I enter the back room of the club, where the guys are looking over several documents.
“Hey, McQueen, what’s up, man?” Ace asks, looking up.
“Just came from the gym, thought I’d see what you fuckers were up to tonight.” I sit backwards in a chair at the table where Ace, Jack, and Landon sit. “Anything on tap?”
“Emmy was talking about going to dinner tonight,” Ace says. “Not sure where, though.”
“I’m out,” Landon says. “I’m taking Sophia to ballet. She has dance Monday and Wednesday nights.”
“What the fuck, dude?” I ask. “You’re already driving taxi? Aren’t there nannies for that shit?”
Landon looks at me like I’m talking crazy. “Why would I hire someone to take Sophia to a dance class?”
“I see your game, bro,” Jack laughs, shoving Landon. “Someone is guaranteed pussy if they do daddy-duty.”
“You two assholes have no clue how good I’ve got it. A woman I love, a little girl who has my whole heart–meanwhile, what have you got? Jack’s got a pop-star girlfriend who breaks up with him every other week, and McQueen doesn’t even have that.”