I supposed that was information that was important to someone. “Do you think they were selling to him or buying from him or Ginny?”
“I don’t think so. They did hang out with the dancers after their shifts.”
“Which ones?”
“The ones who had a side business after hours.”
I snorted. That wasn’t drugs. That was sex. I didn’t care what the dancers did when they were off the clock and off my property, as long as it didn’t affect their jobs when they were on stage.
“Did they hang around with Broadway?”
“Zeke did. He was the only one who liked her. I don’t think she let him fuck her though.”
Holding up a hand, I said, “I don’t care who is fucking who. What I want to know is what’s going on with my employees. They’re dropping like flies.”
“Shit happens.”
I couldn’t argue with that. My eyes slid over to the closed VIP door where Jackie and Darcy had gone. “Has it been fifteen minutes yet?”
“No, but Darcy paid for an hour.”
“What?” I whipped my head to Highway. “How the fuck do you know that?”
He tapped his headset. “I heard her call it in. His card went through.”
I usually didn’t need to be on the headset until later in the evening so I hadn’t turned on my Bluetooth. “That son of a bitch spent four hundred dollars on Jackie?”
“La Vie Bohème,” Highway corrected me. “More like five twenty after the booze.”
I forced my jaw to unclench.
“And that’s not including tip,” he added helpfully.
“Fuck.”
“You shouldn’t get involved with strippers, boss. They’ll break your balls, your heart, and your bank account. And not necessarily in that order.”
Just what I needed, love advice from my head bouncer. “Look, just ask around and keep your ears open. Find out everything you can about Paulie, Dee, and Zeke—especially if it has to do with Broadway. I don’t think Broadway’s white haired friend is going to come back.”
“Where are you going?” Highway asked.
“My office,” I snarled. If Zeke and Broadway met up outside of work, he might know where she was. Or if I was really lucky, Lisa would be with him and her sister could get off the stage and away from Darcy fucking Ross. I had some calls to make.
Chapter Eight
Jackie Mitchell
I tried not to flinch as the door shut behind me. I carried in a bottle of Jose Cuervo and a tray with ice, glasses, salt, and lemons. My mind could barely tally what I was going to make this hour. It was at least two hundred dollars and I knew I got a cut when the client ordered premium booze. That wasn’t counting the fifty bucks I had already made in tips tonight.
Or the tip Darcy Ross might leave me. Oh my God, Lisa would shit if she knew.
“Poor me a drink, would ya luv?” he said in a sexy Australian accent.
“S-sorry,” I said, hurrying to put the tray down on the table.
“Join me in a shot?”
“Yeah,” I said.
