“A lady like you shouldn’t be smoking. That shit’ll kill you.” A voice scares the living daylights out of me making me jump away from the wall. A guy is standing there with a smoke to his lips. I didn’t see him, but then again I didn’t look. There’s never anyone here, only the girls who sneak out here for a cigarette.
“I’m hard to kill,” I say lighting it up and taking the first drag.
He doesn’t say anything further, but when I turn to look at him, he’s already watching me. I can’t see him properly as he isn’t under the light like I am, which helps him to see every inch of me. “Do you like to stalk strip clubs?” I ask.
He laughs. It’s deep and throaty and it matches his voice. “Depends what I need. Today, I need someone, so here I am, out front of a strip club.”
I take my time and spend a little longer, but then realize I need to be back inside, so I throw my half-finished cigarette butt to the ground and step on it with my heel. “Good luck getting what you need.” I wave him off as I attempt to place my hand on the handle, but his voice stops me before I can pull the door open. Turning to look at him, he steps into the light. Now, if I wasn’t a woman on a mission, I would absolutely stay because what I see is one fine specimen of a man. He’s not your average looking man. No, not at all. He has a scar just above his lip, his short hair is a medium blond, and he’s dressed in a high-end suit. His cheekbones are sharp and strong, and his lips are more than a little kissable.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
I smile at him. “My momma taught me to never divulge my name to strangers. Goodbye.” I step away because I have a job to do, and this man—no, scratch that—no man, will ever deter me from my goals in this life.
I’ve come to terms that I may die doing what I need to do.
Vengeance comes in many forms, and in my case, it’s worth paying the ultimate sacrifice to achieve. And I’m okay with that. This is why I’m staying away from forming any attachments. Heather might become a problem, but right now, she isn’t and hopefully, she stays that way.
Walking past her, I grab the tray which has fresh tumblers with ice and topped with whiskey, and carry them over to the guys who are now talking as Sharon’s finished her dance.
“Pretty one, sit, come chat with me.” Ace taps his leg reaching for me as I place the tumblers carefully on the table and am pulled directly into his lap. The second time isn’t so bad, I’m more prepared now to be touched by these men. I thought I was the first time, but I definitely wasn’t, but I have been working on numbing those fears that build up inside me.
“Oh… pretty one, I like the pink hair,” Carter says, smiling up at me. “Tell me, pretty one, do you dance?” He points to the stage.
I smile and grab a lock of pink hair to twirl it around my finger in a sexy gesture. “Well, I got moves.”
“Show us, pretty one. Get up there and dance for me.” Ace slaps my ass as I stand, and I smile, keeping that fake smile glued to my face with the touch of their hands on my body.
As he finishes speaking, Benny walks over with some papers and takes a seat opposite Carter. “Issy, you can go now.” He waves me off.
Ace speaks, “No. She’s going to dance for us before we leave. Aren’t you?”
I look past him to the stage. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. The floor’s still wet from Sharon’s performance, but I can work with that.
“Issy isn’t a dancer, are you?” Benny states in an attempt to get me out of it.
But honestly, I want to do this.
This is my first in.
I need it.
I’m going to take it.
“I am actually.”
Benny stares at me as if I just grew a second head.
Maybe I have?
“Since when?”
My smile is big and fake and courageous. “Since… forever. Why don’t you play me something slow, Benny?”
The boys clap but it’s Ace who speaks next, “Yes, Benny, why don’t you go and organize the music.”
Benny stands and huffs, his large belly bounces as he walks away. He doesn’t argue with these men. When it’s just Benny he’s the boss, when they’re here he’s less than nothing.
“Go on, pretty one, show us what you got.”
I look around, they’re the only customers left. Heather’s still standing at the bar with her eyes glued on us. She wants to be me right now, and I’m afraid she may hate me after what I’m about to do. Smiling at her, she offers me a small wave as I step up onto the stage. I don’t look at Heather when the music starts as my hips gyrate and my hands roam. The water on the floor forms a puddle due to the lip around the edge which makes it easier to clean, but it proves well for what I have planned. I need to make this better than Sharon, and Sharon’s an excellent dancer, one of the best I’ve ever seen.