He purses his lips, pondering, and I expect him to comment because he seems the type.
Instead, he rolls his lip under his teeth and keeps his mouth shut, dragging his curious stare over my face.
It’s a full face of makeup. Of course I look like someone’s wet dream with my smokey eyes, plump, juicy lips, and skin that shines like a Christmas ball.
“What is your regular job? What do you do for a living?” he asks, moving his eyes to me.
‘I teach little boys how to become well-mannered men when they grow up’––I’m tempted to say––but something else flows from my lips.
“It’s none of your business. So…” I plop my hands onto my hips. “Have I passed the test? Can I go now?”
He flicks his head toward the main room.
“Go. And no kicks in the balls tonight. You’ll make good money if you don’t do that. The room is full.”
Moments later, I enter the stage, not giving a damn who is in that room, who’s watching me, or if they’re watching me.
Yes, the place is animated, and the energy is high, but I focus on one thing and one thing only. Dancing. And I consider it a workout.
EWAN
If someone had toldme I’d be sitting in my truck in the parking lot of a small town in Long Island with my headlights turned off, surveilling some local gentlemen’s club, I would’ve laughed my ass off.
I check the time on my phone.
The show must’ve started.
The hostess was nice, confirming a new girl was scheduled to dance tonight. Call me smooth, but I know how to extract information even when I’m not using any particular tool to make people talk.
I still don’t believe this is my best option.
Watching the place like a creep, trying to come up with a plan, an explanation.
I thought I had a brilliant idea when I talked myself out of bedding this woman before I knew exactly what I wanted to do with her.
Boy, did that backfire or what?
I pussyfooted around the idea of her for so long that now she thinks I’m a mobster––she’s right––and she’s not happy aboutit, while I’ll have to live with the idea that some loser jerks off under the table while staring at her tits.
Fuck me.
My fist hits the steering wheel.
I could burn down this place for her.
I could.
I truly could.
And I would walk.
Nothing would happen to me.
She’d be safe, too, but man, would she be angry and never in her life eager to talk to me again?
I could have this place closed by the local administration. I know people. I also know how to use my connections and pull some strings, but what would I accomplish by doing that?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
