But then Sam starts talking again and I sigh silently. Fuck, why tonight? I wish he’d just shut up, but he’s been a paramedic longer than I have, so I need to respect my elders. I snort under my breath. I wouldn’t say Sam is full of wisdom, but he certainly thinks he is.
“So I hear you’re going to be a part of that bachelor auction,” the EMT smirks.
I try to keep my expression neutral.
“Yeah, I guess. Got roped into it by Rob.”
Rob’s a senior manager in our squad, and he basically forced me to participate. I get it. The auction’s for a good cause because we’re donating all proceeds to Kids Hope, a charity that helps children with leukemia. There will be a legion of firefighters, police officers, and EMTs there with our shirts off, ready to escort a woman on a date for the right price.
Still, I can’t help but cringe in dread, even if this is all for charity. I’m likely going to be “won” by some middle-aged lady with her make-up spackled on, and a penchant for men twenty years her junior. My shoulders slump and anger brews in my chest. Why me? Why not Rob, or Sam for that matter?
But the answer is all too clear. Rob and Sam are both in long-term relationships and there’s no way Jess and Pepper would let them participate. As a result, the single guys in the department have been offered up for slaughter, and it’s going to be my blood dripping from the sacrificial altar. Ugh. This is going to be fucking awful.
But Sam merely chortles.
“Don’t look so glum, buddy. You’re the perfect choice. Handsome, studly, with a big … ahem, smile.” Sam smirks at his own joke. “I bet you raise at least five hundred bucks.”
I snort with derision.
“Unlikely.”
Sam merely smiles again.
“You never know,” he says in a light tone. “I’d pay an ungodly sum if Jessa were up on stage. Good thing I already put my babies in her so she’ll never go up for auction.”
I shake my head, but at least I’m saved from answering because we’ve pulled the ambulance into the parking lot at Prescott General.
“You go ahead,” I say. “Go home. I’ll handle inventory and supply check tonight.”
Sam nods jauntily while hopping out of the cab.
“Thanks, kid,” he says. “Jess is waiting, and having a gorgeous woman in my bed makes me want to get home sooner rather than later.”
I nod and wave him away as he practically dashes across the parking lot to his car. Then, I finish up and head into the hospital to hand in our report.
“Everything good tonight?” Nicole, a pretty nurse asks. She bats her lashes at me, but I merely smile and nod. Nicole’s not my type because she’s as thin as a rail, with arms like twigs. I like curvy girls, not women who look like they could use a solid meal.
“Yeah, things were quiet,” I reply politely. “Nothing to report.”
“Great,” she simpers while jutting her hip to the left and squeezing her clipboard across her breasts. “Have a good night, Tim!”
I merely wave while leaving. But once in my truck, my bad mood returns. Sam’s right – he’s got a gorgeous woman waiting for him at home, whereas what do I have? Nothing but a cold, dark apartment and some gloopy TV dinners.
I rev the engine and pause for a moment. A few towns over, there’s a strip club that I haven’t been to in a long time. The Krazy Kat’s not exactly the classiest place, but they’ve got some good music and cold drinks, not to mention an assortment of sassy ladies with meat on their bones. Why not have a look? After all, I’ve got nothing else going on. With that, I pull my truck out of the parking lot and start driving to the club, ready to relax and enjoy myself.
2
Lina
* * *
The Krazy Kat is busy tonight, but it’s Friday, so that’s not a surprise. I’m sitting at one of the many vanities in the back room, behind the stage. Around me, other girls (I guess I could call them my co-workers) are either getting ready for their sets or preparing to go home. I’m putting on the finishing touches of my makeup when my cellphone buzzes on the table next to me.
I answer without looking. “This is Lina,” I say into the receiver, trying to fumble open a compact of blush. I’m not one for make-up, but when you dance for a living, you’ve got to have at least some competency when it comes to cosmetics. The voice in my ear buzzes.
“Hey Lina. It’s Rochelle. I’m glad I caught you before your set.” I sigh. Roche is a decent person, and she manages a lot of curvy girls in the area who specialize in almost everything: modeling, acting, and yes, even stripping. I’ve worked with her for almost a year now, and she alternates between boss, mother-figure, taskmaster, and best friend.