"That just got laid."
The woman flinched with embarrassment and I ached for her. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
She wasn't. I hated to think that she'd degraded herself for entrance into the club but it wasn't uncommon. The girls who couldn't get into Faze tried 716. If they couldn't get in through the front door, they'd try to catch the eyes of the bouncers. Trading favors in back rooms was the currency around here.
And it made me sick. This line of work was starting to kill my faith in humanity.
Face aflame with humiliation, she tugged up her thong and pushed down her skirt. She extended her hand to Bobby, palm side up. Had I interrupted a hooker turning a trick?
Bobby reached into his pocket and retrieved a bright orange wristband. He slapped it into her hand. "Have fun."
The woman rushed out of the room, knocking into me and throwing me into the wall. I rubbed my arm and glared at Bobby. "Where the hell did you get those?"
"Get what?" He played dumb and tucked his sad little prick back into his pants.
"Don't screw with me tonight, Bobby. Where did you get those wristbands?"
"I don't know. I found them on the bar."
"Liar." The pieces fell into place. "Let me guess. Someone from Faze paid you to swap out the wristbands that were supposed to be couriered to my private party, right? They get the wrong color and get turned away at the door so they go to Faze. You keep the orange bands and sell them to anyone who wants into the VIP area by promising them they'll get to party with celebrities? Is this some huge scam?"
"Is everything a conspiracy with you?"
"What the hell is wrong with you? Don't you know how badly this club needed that party? How do you think you get paid?"
"Alls I know is that before you came here, I was making money hand over fist at the back door. I got a cut of everything that came in here. Then you went on your rampage about underage drinkers and drugs and the whores. How the hell am I supposed to make a living?"
"So that's what this is? Payback?" I scoffed at his plan. "If you ruin the club, you're out of a job too."
"I can get a job anywhere. You? Good luck getting anyone to hire the girl who drove Houston's hottest club into the ground."
"You're an asshole."
He grinned widely and made a kissy face at me. Disgusted, I spun on my heel and left the back room. Back out in the club, I tried to think of some way to salvage the night. If I could find Danny, the club's owner, and get him to okay a markdown on the pricey top shelf liquor we'd stocked in anticipation for the VIPs, we could pack the place with thirsty college kids looking for a deal. They'd spend way more than intended if there was no cover charge and a promise of cheap booze.
As I hastily did the math between the wholesale price he paid per case and what I thought my followers would pay, I weaved in and out of the dancing throng. I finally spotted Danny and got his attention by waving my hand. He wore an expression that didn't bode well for me. My stomach knotted with anxiety.
When I drew close enough, Danny grabbed my upper arm. Fear punched my gut as the painful clutch registered. I tried to wrench free but he grabbed me even harder. Before I could even recover from the shock of being manhandled like that, Danny pivoted and jerked me behind him. I stumbled forward and barely managed to regain my footing as he dragged me through the crowd to a private door. He hauled me into the hallway that led to his office.
"Let go of me!" I pried my arm free from his painful grasp and shoved at his chest. He lurched backward and slammed into the wall. As he glared at me, I rubbed the spot where my arm throbbed. "Don't you ever put your hands on me again!"
"I own you, Lena. This club made your career. I'll put my hands wherever the hell I want."
"Try it, Danny. I'll have you in handcuffs." My nose wrinkled at the scent of alcohol spilling out of his mouth. "You're drunk."
"And you're fucking pathetic. What the hell do I pay you for, Lena? Where's the party you promised me? Huh? Lately, you're all promises but no follow through." Sneering, he hissed, "You're like a high-priced whore who never gets wet. I can fuck you but it won't be any good."
I reeled back in shock at his ugly remark. It wasn't the first time he'd said something that gross to me. He had a reputation for being a real asshole but I'd learned to deal with him. Working PR for the hottest nightspots necessitated a thick skin. In this line of work, I'd grown accustomed to dealing with the verbal abuse and blatant sexual harassment. If it wasn't the club owners, it was the high rollers with their grabby hands or the musicians who thought every woman wanted to flop on her back or drop to her knees.
I always told myself that it was going to be the last time I let someone talk to me like that but the fear of losing my job, of getting knocked off the career ladder I'd fought so damn hard to climb, stopped me. A childhood living hand to mouth had left me craving the security of a steady paycheck.
But this time I'd had enough. I was better than this.
"I don't have to take this shit."
"You walk out of here and I'll make sure the firm shit-cans you. By the time I'm done telling everyone how you've ruined my club, you'll be lucky to get hired by one of the airport titty bars."
"How I ruined your club?" Irritated, I shouted, "I saved your liquor license by kicking out the hookers and the high school kids and the drug dealers. I brought in a new and better crowd flush with cash—but you got greedy. You ruined this place." I put up my hands. "I'm so over this, Danny. I'm done."
"I'll tell you when you're done!"
Rolling my eyes at his empty threat, I stormed to the door and out of the club. With every step I took, I felt the constriction in my chest ease. For weeks now, I'd been carrying around the stress of this hellhole. It was going to kill me.
After my coworker had stolen my ideas and jumped ship to work on Faze's dedicated PR team, my boss at the firm had handed me the full reins of 716. Basically, he'd given me a cup to bail out a sinking ship.
Danny was increasingly erratic and the bouncers headed by Bobby were impossible to work alongside. The bartenders were gaining a reputation for watering down drinks and substituting cheap booze for the good stuff. I had a hell of a time booking DJs after a bloody brawl broke out in the VIP area because a certain DJ and a local rap star had gotten into it over some girl. I'd specifically warned Danny against booking them both at the same time but did he listen to me?
Out on the sidewalk, I ignored the catcalls from Trey and stalked to the corner in search of a cab. I didn't doubt that Danny would follow through on his threat to get me fired. I'd been walking a fine line at the firm as it was. This would be the last straw for my boss.
He'd been riding my ass for the last week about taking side jobs on my own time. There was nothing in my contract that said I couldn't have outside clients but that didn't stop him from accusing me of putting my own interests before the firm's. It was a bald-faced lie, of course. In the last month, I'd averaged seventy-eight hours a week for my firm clients. Not a single one of them complained about the quality of my work. As always, I received high marks and maintained my standards, even if I was running on caffeine fumes.