“We're here,” Firefly growled. He killed his engine and helped me off his bike.
It was a bright, sunny morning. The light cut through the haze rolling in over the Smokies. Exactly what I didn't want to see before I headed into the dark, cavernous strip club.
“How long has this place been running?” I asked. The building looked new, or at least it had a fresh coat of paint.
A perfectly gaudy white contrast to the huge glittery neon red heel hanging over the entrance.
“Couple months or so. Took the club awhile to collect the seed money to get her going, but she's rocking it, or so I've heard from Skin. He deals with all the bean counting bullshit. His old lady's got a background in biz, too, and that's who you'll be working with.”
“Is she nice?” I should've bit my stupid tongue.
Wonderful. The shy, nervous girl was coming out, despite my best efforts to stuff her into her cage. Doubts and insecurities I'd had all my life before interviews and new classes leaped up, sank their teeth in, and wouldn't let go.
“Fuck if I know.” Firefly shrugged. “She keeps Skinny boy happy, and she's a solid girl. That's the end of my dealings with chick shit.”
Chick shit, huh? I stared at him, wondering how there could be any justice in the world when this flippant, sexist asshole looked like an Adonis. A very heavily tattooed one, draped in leather, whose hands had seen a lot more dirty work than any model.
It wasn't fair, damn it. A man like this shouldn't ooze sex while he infuriated me more times than I could count. What the hell was going on?!
Pursing my lips, I gave him one more glance, without saying anything. It wasn't worth it taking another jab at him, starting a fight before my first day of work.
He really looked like something wild in the spring morning, decked out in his leather, his fearsome patches, the dark inks rolling up his massive arms like tiger's stripes.
Once, he'd been a warrior in the service. Hard as it was to seriously believe.
He'd traded his uniform for a different one, but the soldier look lingered, even behind all the vicious symbols the army wouldn't be caught dead allowing on a soldier.
I'd never wanted to kiss a man, maul him, bite and scratch him to pieces all at once. Until now.
Oh, God. Firefly smiled, pinning my eyes in place with the look that told me something new and wicked was about to leave his mouth.
“Good luck, babe. Give me a call on that burner phone I gave you when Meg says you're done for the day. I'll be here.” He picked up his helmet and whistled, leaving me frozen in my tracks one more time before I headed inside. “You'll do just fine. Get in there and make it rain fuckin' money.”
Not what I'd expected. He was so...so nice.
“I will,” I said, standing there for a minute, just watching him like a stupid girl gawking at the Prom King blowing by on his hot new ride.#p#分页标题#e#
There wasn't any hope he'd heard me over the roar of his bike.
I hadn't asked for any of this – much less a bastard built like a tank, whose every other word was something foul or selfish.
But maybe, just maybe, it wasn't all bad. Maybe Firefly wasn't either.
Two hours later, I wanted to take back every word.
The job wasn't bad. It was awful.
Meg had been pleasant enough at the start, a curvy brunette roughly my age. The PROPERTY OF SKIN jacket she wore looked strange with her designer skirt and high end shoes, like two different worlds given a shotgun wedding in fashion.
“I'll introduce you to the girls!” she said cheerfully, flicking her hand. I noticed she wore a ring with a tiny dagger in the design. “Don't worry, none of them bite. We're all about the cash here. Drama free. Getting them out on stage in time's our biggest hurdle.”
She flashed me a big white smile and leaned in, covering her mouth so nobody would hear. “It takes a little push to get them going. But once they're out there...well, let's just say every man with a beer in hand would agree it's a sight to behold. Trust me, the bank account agrees.”
She led me out of her office into what looked like the backstage dressing room of an old theater. There, in front of the mirrors, I saw four of the most tall, spoiled, looks-obsessed bitches I'd ever meet in my life.
“Tawny, Annabelle, Cindy-rella, and Pix,” Meg said, pointing one by one. “Listen up, girls. This is your new production manager, Cora. She'll be handling your tips for accounting and making sure you get out on stage when the bell rings. We've had some issues with that lately. Every wasted second between acts means a few less dollars coming into the Heel and the club.”
She looked at the strippers and gestured to me.
One girl rolled her big green eyes, a yelp leaving her lips when she formed a pout. “Oh, please, Miss Wilder. You really had to bring in this little girl to help herd us like sheep? Nobody's dragged themselves out late more than ten or fifteen minutes this month.”