"Me too," Payton adds and I give her the side eye because I'm not sure if she's supporting me or if she actually wants an application.
It's my lucky day because it turns out that the owner, Vince, is here. And he's willing to give us fifteen minutes.
As we're escorted through the club to Vince's office, I take in my surroundings. I expected it to be dark with an elevated stage in the center of the room outlined with neon lighting. There is a stage, of course. There are three of them, each smaller than I'd envisioned in my mind. The chairs are so much closer to the stages than I'd imagined too. Overall the place feels more like a buffalo wing bar than a house of ill repute. If buffalo wing bars had poles, obviously. There's a pretty blonde dancing for a man sitting alone. He's drinking coffee, his eyes never leaving her body as we pass. I wonder what brought him to a strip club by himself before lunch, but seeing that I'm here for my own nefarious reasons I'm in no position to judge.
Once we're seated in Vince's office, Payton breaks the ice with her signature chitchat while my heart races a million miles an hour. I focus on my surroundings and take a deep breath while I summon the courage to ask what I want to ask. The office has an oddly comforting vibe. Safe. There's not a neon light to be had or needed, as natural sunlight streams in from the oversized windows lining an entire wall. The office décor is nondescript corporate. I'd think I'd just wandered into a law office, if law offices had lobbies with poles in them.
"So, do you have multiple girlfriends?" Payton dives right in with her own agenda after we've been offered coffee by a woman who's got to be in her sixties. I fleetingly wonder if they advertised for that position on a job board or if they promoted her from within.
"Excuse me?" Vince replies, eyebrows raised in question, clearly confused if he's misheard Payton or simply misjudged the audacity she's capable of.
"You know, like Hugh Hefner did?"
"I run a gentleman's club in Vegas, not a lifestyle magazine."
"Same thing. Anyway, do you? Because Rhys is gonna fall in love with Lydia and they'll move in together and yadda yadda yadda. I'll have to get a new roommate and I'm not sure I can be bothered to vet someone new right now. So I'd be open to being girlfriend number three. I don't want to be girlfriend one or two, it sounds like too much responsibility, you know? Also I'd like my own room. Is that how you do it? Do the girlfriends all get their own rooms? That's how Hef did it. Do you have a nice place? Because I'm not sharing you if you live in a shitty condo with coin-operated laundry."
"Are you serious?" Vince narrows his eyes at her, as if he can't tell if Payton is indeed serious or simply fucking with him, and Vince doesn't look like a man used to being fucked with. I find most people have this reaction to her, so I'm used to it. For the record, she's rarely joking when she's saying something ridiculous.
"Serious as a shark," she replies without blinking.
"That's not even a thing." Vince brings a cup of coffee to his lips, eyeing her over the rim. "The saying is 'serious as a heart attack.'"
"Like sharks aren't serious?" She leans forward, her eyes narrowed. "You try swimming with a shark and then tell me how not-serious they are."
"You know he slept with all of them, right?"
"Duh," Payton replies, completely nonplussed about the sleeping arrangements of a man and his multiple girlfriends.
"You're really something, aren't you?" Vince asks, still looking at her as if he's not sure what to make of her.
"I'm a lot of things. It's true." Payton beams as if he's just paid her a compliment. I'm honestly not sure what his feelings are about her because his expression isn't giving away much. But if I had to guess, he's not inviting Payton to be girlfriend number one, two or three anytime soon.
"Vince," I say, squaring my shoulders and interrupting before Payton gets us kicked out. I take a deep breath. I can do this. I can, I can, I can. "I have a proposition for you."
He takes his eyes off of Payton and levels me with the full force of his attention and I have a fleeting worry about who exactly I'm dealing with. He could be a mobster, couldn't he? He owns a strip club—gentleman's club, whatever—in the heart of Las Vegas. He might have ties to organized crime. Or loan sharks or hitmen. I don't know this man or what he's involved in. I doubt he's leading a church youth group on the weekends, I assume that much. And I'm sure he's not someone to mess with. Not that I'm messing with him, I'm not. I'm serious. But it doesn't mean I'm not in way over my head.
"I'm listening, Miss Clark," he says, his eyes flickering to his desktop monitor and back to mine. "You've got nine minutes left. If you want something you'd better get to it. Quickly."
So I blurt out my request because I've got nothing to lose. Because I'm not a quitter. Because I've got a plan.
There's a moment of silence when I'm done. A long moment. Vince stares at me, silent, his fingers drumming on his desktop. Payton takes a drag on her iced coffee, but there's nothing left in the cup so the room fills with that rattling hollow noise that occurs from creating a wind tunnel in an empty cup. She rattles the ice as if that might get her an extra drop or two and slurps again.
"Are you for real?" Vince stops staring at me to address Payton.
"So real. And so are my boobs."
His eyes drop slowly to her chest before he shakes his head and returns his attention to me. "This isn't a brothel," he says, and I'm afraid he's about to boot me from his office, my time long gone. "Prostitution isn't legal in Clark County."
"Of course not. Double Diamonds is a business, isn't it, Mr…?"
"Vince," he replies, deadpan.
"Right. Mr. Vince, you're a businessman at heart, aren't you? So let's make a deal. I'll make it worth your while, I promise."
"Scout's honor," Payton adds and as I turn to look at her she winks at him, a big dramatic wink complete with a head tilt and a little tsk she makes with her tongue. "The Urban Dictionary kind, big guy."
I don't even want to know what that means, so I shoot her a look meant to make her shut up and turn back to Vince.
He leans back in his chair, running two fingers across his lips while he watches us with newfound interest. "So you work at the Windsor. Both of you?"
I nod, feeling like I might be on the verge of changing his mind.
"Let's talk terms."
Fourteen
RHYS
"Are you going to introduce your girlfriend to your parents when they're in for the grand opening?" Canon asks as he strolls into my suite as if he's got all the time in the world for socializing. He drops onto a chair across from the sofa I'm sitting on and raises his eyebrows as if in expectation of a real answer.
"Fuck off, Canon."
"The fact that you're not even questioning who I'm referring to is sad."
"I'm busy here, Canon," I tell him, nodding at my laptop. "I don't have the time or interest to address the bullshit that comes from your mouth on a good day, let alone at present. And if you would stop using the master key to walk into my place of residence I'd appreciate it."