“They aren't, and since when did you have a usual?”
He didn’t bother to answer.
Trick picked up the tumbler of Scotch Jackie set before him and brought it to his lips. His eyes locked on the familiar gold chain dripping down Rachel’s cleavage and glinting in the low lighting. “Nice necklace.”
“Thanks.” She ran her hands down the gold links that formed a lariat, a gift from him years ago. “A con man was once generous to me.”
“Is that so? How is your night going?”
“You were right about one thing. I’m making more money here than I was at Talman's, and it’s not a strip club.”
“Didn’t think I was right about anything.”
She shrugged. “Anyone can get lucky once.”
She lifted her tray, now laden with newly-finished martinis, and walked away from him. She put a little extra sway into her hips, of course, on purpose. She wove her way through the small cocktail rounds to get to the velvet-lined booths on the other side of the main floor and flashed a smile worthy of that come-fuck-me-outfit she wore.
He sipped his drink and settled his gaze on the dancers—and anywhere else he could that wasn’t a sightline to Rachel. Seeing her again, a dream he’d harbored for years, was harder than he’d anticipated. Even prison and their estrangement couldn’t completely shake her pull. Truth was, her innate resiliency wasn’t common among women her age, and it was damned attractive.
“Trick,” a soft voice whispered near him.
Vivi, also in quite the revealing outfit, a red dress barely longer than a t-shirt, leaned toward him. She laid her hand on his arm. “Thought I’d just come … hang out for a bit.” Her hands shook a little.
He pulled out a barstool. “This seat has had your name on it all night, Vivi.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
A loud bang sounded behind him. Rachel had dramatically thumped down her tray. “Three Cosmopolitans, one scotch on ice, and one straight up.”
The loud noise startled Vivi, and Trick grasped her hand. Trick eyed Jackie, who perched basil leaves on two tall, frosted glasses. “Getting pretty fancy with the drinks.”
“Basil Vodka Chiller. Rachel’s idea again.”
“Yeah, Rachel has never lacked for interesting ideas.”
“And I have more.” She crossed her arms. “You should get smaller martini glasses. Then fill them to the brim. It makes Shakedown look generous without actually serving more than normal—sorta like a woman who knows not to show too much.” She side-eyed Vivi.
Could she be more obvious, more uncharitable? She didn’t know Vivi or her circumstances.
“Rachel’s ideas are profitable, too.”
Jackie was trying to deescalate the building tension. Good luck with that.
“We’ve already sold more than twenty percent over last Saturday night.”
Declan would be pleased to hear that, given he was wary of her being hired. Trick took another sip of his drink. “Rachel was on her way to getting a degree in hospitality management not too long ago.”
“Yeah, until funds dried up,” she lobbed at him.
“Hi, Rachel.” Vivi held out her hand. “I'm Vivi, a special friend of Trick's.”
“Rachel just joined Shakedown,” he said.
“Hi. This club does like to hire beautiful women. You two known each other long?”
“You could say that.”
He picked up his drink and offered his arm to Vivi. “Let's talk in my office, love.” He wouldn’t subject Vivi to Rachel’s misplaced irritation, and as her manager, he’d deal with her snotty tone with a customer later.
Rachel’s face fell. “Trick, I was wondering if I could talk to you?”
“Later. I’d hate to tear you from your fans.” He lifted his chin toward a table of men trying to get her attention. “They are paying customers, and you do work here.”
“It won’t take but a minute. Jackie needs more tequila, and perhaps you can show me where it is? Just trying to abide by the rules here.” She turned to Gabrielle who had sidled up to her. “Hey, do you mind watching my tables for about twenty minutes? You can have whatever tips are there.”
Well, that was a surprise. He was glad of it, though. Gracious Rachel still existed, and she was showing herself to be more of a team player than he’d expected.
He took Vivi’s hand and lifted it to his lips. The woman’s self-esteem was lower than an earthworm, and unlike Rachel, she needed reassurance. “Vivi, go see Declan. He’d like to hear how you are.”
Vivi smiled at him, glanced at Rachel, and then turned back to him. “Of course. Thanks for everything, Trick. You’re one of the good ones.” She winked at Rachel.
Rachel didn't yield an inch of floor space when Vivi scooted by her.
Trick shook his head. “What the hell was that, Rachel?”
“What was what?”
“You know what.” He gestured for her to follow him. “Come on. We clearly need to talk.”
9
A blue-white wash of light lit the cavernous space that stretched out at least one hundred feet before her. Dust motes, kicked up from their entrance, floated in the warm air. What do you know? There was so much more in the warehouse space than her quick peek the other day.
“It's like Mardi Gras in here. Props?” She pointed to her right where dance cages, a huge martini glass that someone could swim in, a makeshift train trolley, and a giant Chinese New Year's dragon head rested alongside a tall, cinder block wall.
“Yep.” Trick's footfalls echoed on the concrete floor.
To her left, garment racks three rows deep were stuffed with ornate, gaudy costumes, dripping with sequins and crystals from black to red to white and feathers in blues and purples. Dead ahead, a mountain of red caught her eye.
She shuddered. “A bull?” She pointed at the huge thing. Large nostrils made commas on a crimson face. Huge horns jutted from either side of its head. All that plus the deep-set eyes and short hair, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it began to move or twitch as if real.
“Mechanical.” He strode to it and patted its side. “The triplets specialize in trying to outdo one another in their individual acts. This one's for the Sunset's matador act.”
“Dramatic.” She drew closer, touched the soft hair.
“It's not the most dramatic thing she's done.”
“Why does everyone call her The Sunset? I overheard Declan does anyway.” Gossip ran rampant in this place.
“Not my story to tell.” He gave her a view of his broad back. “Now, about your snide remarks to a customer tonight—”
“Ah, Vivi. Yeah, sorry. Won’t happen again.” She had no right to say those things to her, especially since she’d been on the receiving end of such comments before. “I’ll apologize to her.”
He looked surprised, which shamed her. Was she that awful? Yeah, she guessed being under stress for so long had frayed her nerves and her manners.
He huffed out a long breath. “See to it.”
Rachel chewed her bottom lip, and not knowing what else to do, proceeded down a corridor between tall shelves. One side held cases of liquor while the other side held boxes of supplies, from napkins to cutlery and flower arrangements.