The laugh that came out of my mouth was all knowing and more than a bit condescending. “You bet, honey. Just pay the man for a private lap dance and I’ll be right there,” I said, betting he would never do such a thing—although the thought of him doing that gave me a small shiver.
“That’s not what I meant. I have to discuss business with you.” His face had gone stern, almost mean.
“The only kind of business I do right now is dancing and private shows. Otherwise it’ll have to wait.”
“What time do you get off?”
I laughed again. “None of your business.” Then I strutted away from him to find my boss.
“Are you sure?” I asked the manager when she came up to me with a request.
She nodded, pointing to the long stairway that lead to the private rooms. It was early in the evening to get a request, but I grabbed the paper from her and headed up to my first client of the night.
Private dances were expensive. Well, mine were. We were allowed to set our own prices and I set mine high. I hadn’t asked all the girls because that wasn’t kosher but from what some of them had said, I charged a lot. A lot a lot.
There were a few reasons for that. Number one, private dances were probably the riskiest thing you could do in a strip club. The curtain was pulled and even though the bouncer was right outside, if you called for him—it would already be too late by the time he got to you.
Guys assumed that because you were in a semi-enclosed room with just them that anything goes. And it sure doesn’t. They were all warned about the no touching, no contact rule.
That didn’t mean they abided by it.
Secondly, some guys were just nasty. To spend time bumping and grinding around them, their bad breath and body odor, it had to be worth the pervy stares and tented dress slacks.
Last of all—ten minutes was a long time to freestyle. I loved to dance. This was a bit more of a workout than regular dancing on the dance floor with your girlfriends, though. My moves had to be seductive. Which meant more bending and flexing as I pretended to be the girl of their dreams. Their wet dreams that is.
I had never understood the appeal of paying someone a chunk of money to fake something. It wasn’t my problem, though. The only problem I had right now was getting the stupid bill collectors off my ass for another month. Just because my ex was finally making a great salary did not mean he had decided to help pay the loan debts we had.
Of course, I say, “we” but the loans were all for him. School, car, clothes, and a trip to a medical conference which I was pretty sure was just an excuse for him to screw around on me.
Whatever. All that mattered right now was to appease the powers that be for another thirty days.
This was my burden.
The money from this dance would definitely help. As would any extra tip money he’d give me.
“Hi, Butch.” I waved to the bouncer once I was at the top of the stairs. He just nodded as he sat his overly buff self on a stool that was likely groaning under all that muscle. The heavy maroon curtain was pulled across the room I was headed to.
One deep, cleansing breath helped steel me against whatever it was I’d encounter on the other side. Flipping the curtain over, I said, “Evening, handsome. How are—”
I lost the ability to speak. Sitting on the chair in the middle of the room was Rhys. Are you even serious right now? He had the gall to order a freaking lap dance from me? This was not actually happening.
Unfreezing myself from my sexy pose in the doorway, I stormed up to him. “What are you trying to prove?”
“You okay, Jaz?” I heard the bouncer call my stage name from outside the room.
“Thanks, Butch. All good,” I yelled back as I stared daggers at Dr. Jackass in front of me.
His eyes traveled over my body, stopping at my cleavage. “We need to talk about why you’re here.” His eyes finally flicked to mine.
“Why am I here? Why are you here?” I snapped, throwing my arms out to the side.
He squinted at me. “You make good money. Why do you need to work as a stripper?”
I made good money? Where exactly did he think I made good money? I was practically hemorrhaging money to the school for my final months of classes and practicums. Not to mention the fact I wasn’t even sure if we still had health insurance.
Every time I’d asked my ex if we were still on his plan, he wouldn’t give me an answer. All he ever said was, “Come home and find out.” That was never going to happen.
There was so much to say but none of it was Rhys’ business. Why did he care anyway? “What’s it matter to you?” I asked, one hand on my hip as it jutted out to the side.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Look, if you have some kind of a—habit—I really don’t think you should be working for us.”
If I had a habit? What? Finally, it clicked. He assumed I had a drug habit. That was the only reason a woman would stoop so low as to strip, right? What an actual ass.
The more I looked into his condescending gaze, the angrier I got. The man figured I was a dirty, drug addict. He was worried I wasn’t good enough to take care of his mom. Me.
At the moment, I felt like bursting into tears. It was bad enough that I had to do this to pay bills that weren’t even mine. For him to accuse me of doing this for selfish reasons pushed me right over the edge. If there was one God damn place I didn’t want to be, it was here.
Instead of crying, an odd calm surrounded me. This guy didn’t matter. What he thought of me didn’t matter. I knew the truth. Those who loved me knew the truth. I was a good person, no matter where I worked or what I did.
“I don’t have a drug habit. If you want, I’ll submit to daily or weekly tests. Whatever you need to reassure yourself that it’s safe for me to be around your mother.” Somehow, I was able to say that without my voice cracking.
He nodded. “I’ll arrange for that, thank you. Now we need to discuss pay. You walked out today before we settled on an amount. We also need to agree on a list of what your duties will be.”
The more he talked, the more I wanted to slap his gorgeous face. Immediately I put up my emotional armor. It always worked for me. “The amount is zero. Will that work for you?” I asked sarcastically, shifting my weight to the other leg.
A disgusted frown settled on his face as he sat back in the chair. “That’s stupid. Just tell me what your hourly rate is, and we’ll work something out.”
“My hourly rate for looking after your mother is zero. Or is that too much?”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Would you stop being so self-righteous? Why are you making this difficult?”
Yeah, I was making this difficult. “She’s my friend and I was never going to charge her or you. It’s not forever, just until she recovers.”
The shaking of his head flipped some kind of switch for me. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, he’d hurt my feelings. In my life, there was no room for that. I turned, closing the curtain behind me with a loud swish. Then I walked over to start the music. I knew just the right song. Dr. Jackass wanted his money’s worth? He was going to get his money’s worth.
“I just wanted to talk, I didn’t—”