Chapter One
“There are rules in the world of stripping. Rule number one: don’t use your real name.” Catty Steele kept her voice and expression neutral, despite the overwhelming urge to shake, scream, and shove the new stripper out the back door before she could made the biggest mistake of her life.
She knew better than anyone that each person made their own choices.
“Not sure I would have chosen Bambi for my stage name. I, personally, would have gone with something a little more creative.” The music from within the club vibrated the tubes of lipstick on the various vanity tables, and the air hung heavy with the stifling stench of cigarette smoke.
“Bambi is my real name.” Bambi’s chipmunk voice matched the look in her doe-like eyes. Good thing making money at a strip club didn’t depend on the sound of one’s voice. With platinum-blond hair and a body straight out of Hot Rod magazine, Bambi would make a lot of money.
“Isn’t Catty your real name too?” Bambi’s perfectly plucked brows drew together as she blew a bubble with her gum.
“My real name is Katy.” The invisible thread around her heart tightened, filling her with a burning pain. The old familiar ache associated with the reality of what she’d done. How she’d thrown away a normal life and cut ties to her country-clubbish family to work in a strip club in New Orleans. The worst mistake of her life. “I changed it to Catty when I started stripping.”
“Ah.” Bambi popped her gum and looked down at her costume, a dark green bikini with sequins across the top. She looked back up at Catty and smiled a childlike smile. “I love green. It’s my happy color.”
Catty wanted to tell her it didn’t matter what she liked. It was all coming off in ten minutes in front of some overweight guy with bad breath and grabby hands.
“Rule number two.” She held up two fingers. “You can touch the customer, but the customer can’t touch you.” It was a rule few followed in the darkest corners of the club. She was one of the few, and that was why she avoided the shadows.
“But that’s not what Meadow said.”
“Don’t listen to Meadow.” She lowered her voice, letting Bambi know she was serious. Meadow was taking money for blow jobs in the back room. Catty might take her clothes off, but she sure as shit wasn’t going to sell her body for all the money in the stripping world.
“Meadow will also tell you that you don’t have to pay income tax. Which brings us to rule number three: always pay your taxes. The IRS is a bitch to deal with if you don’t.”
“Got it.” Bambi looked over her shoulder to the far side of the dressing room, where Celine, the club manager, was watching them with an impenetrable glare.
“I don’t think Celine likes me. She’s already screamed at me twice,” Bambi whispered.
“Celine screams at everyone. Don’t piss her off and you’ll be fine.” It was rumored Celine had been a stripper years and years and years ago, but age and nicotine had not been kind to the woman. Being around gorgeous young women didn’t help her ego.
Bambi cast an unsure glance across her shoulder to the manager.
“It’s not you, Bambi. Celine doesn’t like anybody. Do what she says, stay off drugs, and be here on time. She might not be anyone’s Aunt Bessie, but she’s fair and doesn’t tolerate disrespect.”
“Five minutes, Bambi.” Celine’s husky voice cut through the noise of the dressing room. The dancers continued buzzing around the room, changing into the next costume, putting on another layer of lipstick, and checking their boobs in the mirror.
“How do I look?” Bambi propped her hands on her hips and waited expectantly.
“You need a smaller top.”
“But this one is my size.” She spread her arms and looked down her body.
“That’s the problem. You need a smaller size. You need a top that your boobs spill out of. Guys aren’t coming in here to see a Miss America pageant. They come here to see boobs. Lots and lots of boobs.”
“Bambi! Move your ass!” The tone in Celine’s voice had all the girls taking cover at their makeup stations.
“Here.” Catty grabbed a tiny black bikini top off a hanger and tossed it at the girl. “Put this on.”
“But it won’t match.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She shot her a glare.
Bambi obediently changed into the smaller bikini top. “It barely covers my nipples.”
“That’s the point.” Catty waved her away. “You need to get going before you piss off Celine.”
“Thanks, Catty.” Bambi walked toward the stage.