Mark’s destination was a strip club called Show 'n Tail in Bridgeport, southwest of the river. What the hell is he doing here? I pulled into a spot on the opposite end of the lot from where Mark had parked. Both Dean and I watched as he went through the front entrance.
“It’s kind of early for a lap dance, isn’t it?” I mumbled.
Dean snorted. “What time of day do you think is acceptable for a lap dance?” His caustic tone made it clear he was making fun of me, but seriously? It was one in the afternoon. Wasn’t that a little creepy or was I just being a judgmental prude? Whatever. My point was, I didn’t think he’d drive into another city just for a lap dance.
I chewed on my lip, debating what to do. Movement toward the back of the club caught my attention. Standing by the back door was a couple of girls in robes. They were standing with a bouncer, talking while they smoked. An idea popped into my head and before I lost my nerve, I unbuckled my seatbelt.
“What are you doing?”
I glanced at Dean as I reached for the door handle. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, call Jamie or Louie.” I had the door open and a leg out when he grabbed ahold of my wrist.
“You’re not going in there,” he said firmly.
“I have to find out why he’s here. If—and that’s a big if—anything happens, it’s better if you stay out here and call for help.” I shoved his hand off. He let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s going to be fine,” I said before closing the door.
I approached the girls and the bouncer with a small smile on my face. “Hi.” The three of them stopped talking and eyed me curiously. “Today’s my first day…” The bouncer didn’t even hesitate in opening the door and held it open for me to enter. It must have been the wig.
Stepping inside, I was immediately greeted by loud music and a dressing room with a huge mirror taking up the left wall and lockers taking up the right. I had romanticized what a stripper's dressing room looked like in my head. I'd imagined vanities full of makeup, with lightbulb framed mirrors and racks full of skimpy costumes. This room was barren, and I found myself a little disappointed. I got over it quickly when I spotted a door at the other end of the room. I beelined for it and pushed it open slightly. “The Beautiful People” by Marilyn Manson filled my ears as I peeked out into the dark club. The showroom had dark mood lighting, multiple platforms with poles, a bar surrounded by stools, and lounge chairs and tables strategically placed to view each one of the stages the dancers performed on. I’d only been inside of a strip club once, and that had been years ago with Tina. It had been her birthday. Her friends and I had paid for her to get a lap dance. It had been fun.
Scanning the room for Mark, I spotted him sitting at the bar. How do I get close without being noticed? Eyeing one of the cocktail waitresses walking the room with a tray in hand, I took in what she was wearing. Black bra, matching boy short underwear, and heels. I was wearing something similar to that. Shutting the door and opening up an unoccupied locker, I quickly stripped down to my underwear and heels. I shoved my shirt and pants into the locker before heading into the showroom of the club.
On my way to the bar, I scooped up a discarded tray sitting on an empty table. Passing Mark, I strutted like I actually worked there to the drink drop off station at the far end of the bar. There, I had an unobstructed view of him. He was alone. The drink in front of him was clearly just for show as it sat there untouched.
“You must be new,” the woman behind the bar asked, placing a couple of bottled beers in front of me.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Can you take these to table four?”
I glanced down at the beers then back up at her. “Table four?”
She pointed at a table in the center of the room where a group of guys were laughing while watching a dancer swing around topless on a pole in front of them. I hurriedly placed the bottles on my tray and went to drop them off. As I passed out the drinks to the guys, one of them put a dollar in the side of my underwear and asked when I performed. I forced myself to smile at his drunk ass and walked away.
I made the mistake of only staring at Mark on my way back to the bar. My shoulder bumped into someone, knocking the tray from my hands. “I’m so sorry,” I said as I started to bend to retrieve my tray from the floor. The gentleman was faster, moving fluidly as he bent over, scooping it up, then returned it to my hands. I gave him a brief once over, not wanting to take my eyes off of Mark for long. His pretty gold eyes and his tailored charcoal suit stood out. Besides that, I didn’t pay him much attention. “Thank you.” I smiled genuinely and returned to the drink drop off station.
Setting my tray on the counter, I tried not to blatantly stare at Mark and glanced at him every once in a while. A man dressed very similar to Stefan’s personal security—black tight T-shirt with a black suit jacket and black slacks—approached Mark at the same time a bouncer of the club and a dancer approached me.
“You’ve been requested for a private dance,” the bouncer said. Huh? I thought the cocktail waitresses didn’t have to give lap dances! “Come with me.” He turned, expecting me to follow, and left with the dancer trailing behind him.
Fuuuuck! I hesitantly followed. Searching for Mark, I noticed the bouncer was leading me in the same direction he was being led, toward a somewhat private room off to the side of the showroom. Maybe I’m dancing for him? But why the other dancer?
Mark disappeared into the private room. The bouncer I was following stopped just outside the open archway and gestured for us to enter. The dancer strutted in there like this was just another day at the office. I supposed it was. Me, on the other hand, I was wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into as I followed her in.
The private room was small with mirrored walls, an armless upholstered bench bordering the entire U-shaped room, and a pole in the center. Stepping further into the room, we passed the guy who'd approached Mark at the bar. The way he stood guard at the entrance cemented my assumption he was security. Mark was sitting on the right side of the room, body tense despite the at-ease facade he was failing to pull off by a relaxed pose, one leg resting on top of his knee. I could only assume his nervousness was due to the man sitting across from him. Achieving the relaxed look with one arm draped across the back of the bench was the gentleman I had bumped into in the showroom. I recognized his gold eyes right away. How could I not? They were locked on me, assessing me from head to toe.
The first thing I noticed as I actually took the time to take all of him in was that I recognized him. From where, I didn’t know. All I was certain of was I had seen him before.
He was Italian. His thick hair and designer stubble were dark as coffee. He had a strong, lean build and a sharp jawline. He was devilishly handsome. There was something about him that put me on edge, though. It was the way he held himself—confident, superior, dangerous. He reminded me of Stefan.
“What do we have here?” Mark asked the man seated across from him. “Are we finally going to get some entertainment during these meetings?”
The man removed his eyes from me to stare at Mark. “I figured I’d humor you this one time.” A small yet excited grin pulled at the corner of Mark’s mouth. “Mind if I have the blonde?” the man asked.