“What?” I answer softly, bringing the rim of my glass to my mouth and taking a sip.
“Is everything okay? Did Dad have something to do with this marriage?” she pries, leaning forward.
I swallow the bitter bubbles and shake my head. “No, Brianna. This is my doing—for once,” I lie. I hate lying to her, and usually, it’s useless because she always could tell when I was bullshitting, but because I have so much at stake here, I’m going to put on an Oscar-worthy performance.
“So Dad had absolutely nothing to do with this?” she repeats, her undertone saying she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying, as she throws herself back into her seat. Glaring at her as she takes a long pull of the champagne, I snap, just as she swallows. “So what if he did, Bri, what am I supposed to do about it? What have we ever been able to do about it?” So much for Oscar-worthy performance. That was terrible.
“Jesus.” Briana leans forward again, her soft chocolate eyes coming to mine. “He does doesn’t he?” She shakes her head, then leans closer. “This is marriage, Isa. This is a contract, binding your soul to someone else.”
I chuckle, taking another sip of my crisp champagne which is going down rather nicely. “Stop being so dramatic. It’s only soul binding if you’re in love with said person—which I’m not.”
“God!” she curses. “That’s even fucking worse!”
“How so?” I tilt my head. “The way I see it; I’ll never get hurt. Fuck love.”
“Isa…”
“Shut up, Bri.” I look back at her. “Okay? Just… shut up.”
“Okay. But answer one thing and answer it truthfully.”
I roll my eyes. “What?”
“Has this got anything to do with Brooke?”
…
“Are you fucking kidding me, Brooke!” I laughed, the effects of the alcohol swimming through my veins and warming my blood.
“I’m dead serious!” Brooke giggled, taking my hand in hers. “Come, let’s just do it for fun!”
“Fun?” I yanked my hand back.
“It’s a strip club, Isa! They’ll give us a job straight away and this way, we can make money doing something we’re good at!”
“You can, I’m not into the whole stripping thing…”
She winked at me. “Well, you can get drunk and watch me do the whole stripping thing, huh? How about that?” Mmm. She had a point.
“That sounds like a better plan.” I smirked at her, nudging my head toward the glass opening doors.
She hooked her arm in mine, then pushed open the door. I glanced around the dim setting, watching as the strobe lights flashed and the deep bass of some rock song electrified the atmosphere.
“Wait at the bar!” Brooke yelled into my ear over the music and I nodded, walking toward one of the leather bar stools.
“What can I get you?” The bartender asked me, but my eyes were still glued on Brooke and her retreating frame. It wasn’t until she slipped behind the stage curtain that I turned to face the bartender.
“Hi, ah, anything with vodka in it. Thanks.” His greying beard trailed down his chest, but not in a greasy way, more in a slick, silver fox way. His eyes were silver and his hair was styled back tidily. He must’ve been in his sixties? Or maybe late fifties, but he was handsome for an old guy, to say the least.
“Coming up, darlin’,” he winked, moving to the other side of the bar and pulling out a few more glasses. “You from around here?” He placed the glasses down and took out a bottle of vodka.
I shook my head. “No. Me and my friend are just passing through.”
“And this friend…” he asked, watching me skeptically while pouring our drinks. “She’s stripping while you pass through?”
I laughed, taking the glass from him. “Yeah, well we’re sort of just drifting through while we figure out what college we want to go to. Or if we even want to go to college.”
“Huh,” he murmured, tilting his head. “That’s interesting.”
“Not really,” I muttered back, swallowing my drink. I looked around the room again, noticing that there were only a few people scattered around the place. “Is it usually this quiet?”
The bartender dragged his eyes over my seated frame and then shook his head. “Not usually. But it’s Wednesday, that means that it’s private events only – usually.”
“Oh!” I straightened in my seat. “Are we not supposed to be here?”
He paused, the wrinkles around the corner of his eyes crinkling, illustrating his age. “Naaw, darlin’, you’re good.” I thank him and then turn in my chair, just in time to see Brooke sauntering down the catwalk stage to “Killing Strangers” by Marilyn Manson.
My head was a little hazy from my drink, and the lack of food throughout the day probably didn’t help, but I continued to watch as Brooke slowly wrapped her body around the beat of the song and all eyes in the room shot straight to her. I smirked, knowing full well what she was doing. Aside from being seductive and sultry, Brooke was the most exotic girl I had ever seen. With chocolate brown wavy hair, bright blue eyes, a tight body, and a tan most girls would die for, she was gorgeous. She looked toward me, body rolling against the poll and come-hithered her fingers. I was about to shake my head when the buzz from the alcohol shot straight to my brain and relaxed my frantic thoughts. I grinned, sliding off my stool and walked toward the front of the stage.