I sat forward and rested my elbows on the bar. “Work. My girl works a shit ton.”
“Oh, yeah? What kind of work does she do?”
“Teaches dance by day to the cutest little kids on the planet. They adore her. When I sat in on a class last week, I even got jealous of them getting all her attention.” I laughed and took a long pull of my beer.
“I know all about kids getting all the attention.” He looked at his watch. “Well, it’s after eight o’clock. How late does she teach these kids?”
“No, she’s finished at the studio. In the evenings, she works at Club Rendezvous several nights a week, like tonight.”
Dave’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that right? And you’re okay with her working there? I mean, I know how you are. I didn’t think you were the kind of man who’d want his woman working at a place like Club R.”
I felt a weird twinge in my chest. “What are you talking about? It’s just a club.”
“Not just any kind of club. I know one of the owners, Donovan Gordon. Real stand-up guy. His club, though, can get rough. I’ve heard some dirty dealings have gone through his place. I’d offer her a job here, but she won’t make half what she does there.”
“How do you know that?” My heart was jackhammering now. If Club R was dangerous, I didn’t want Red anywhere near it. How did I not know any of this?
“Donovan said his servers make an easy two hundred a night on tips. It’s an A-list type club. And the uniforms…” His voice trailed.
“What about them?” I was standing now. I never saw what Red wore to Club R because she changed at work. Maybe she knew I wouldn’t like what she was wearing. Damn, it felt hot in here. I tugged on the collar of my T-shirt.
“You never saw her in it?”
“No.”
“Oh shit.” Dave stepped back from the bar with a nervous twitch to his lip.
“Tell me.” I gritted my teeth and gripped the edge of the wooden bar.
“Short skirts that barely cover the ass, fuck-me heels, and some women—not all, she probably doesn’t—wear a see-through white tank top. Donovan said some of the women let patrons slip their hand under the skirt to get bigger tips.”
“You’re fucking joking. Tell me you’re joking just to get a rise out of me.” If Red was letting men touch her for better tips, I’d go ballistic.
Dave raised his hands. “Sorry, man. I’ve hired a couple of people who used to work there, and I’m just relaying what they told me.”
“Fuck. I gotta go.” I dug out my wallet.
“You won’t get in. You gotta be on the list or have a reservation.”
“Oh, I’ll get in. Money talks.”
“You got that kind of money?”
“Yes.” I shot him a steely gaze to know I meant it. “Donovan Gordon, you said he was an owner?”
“Yeah, man.”
“Thanks.” I took off with my heart in my throat. Why didn’t Red tell me any of this? I didn’t want to go all caveman on her. She made no qualms about being an independent woman who paid her own way. I respected the shit out of her convictions. But I’d be damned if my woman was groped at work. Fuck-the-hell-no.
It took me over half an hour to get to Malibu on Pacific Coast Hwy. It gave me lots of time to imagine Red being touched. Way too much. My face was on fire, and I had to wonder if she felt this way when she saw the women flirting with me. Although I thought this was entirely different, she would probably view it as a double standard.
But, I already didn’t like her working at Club R, even before I knew about her skimpy uniform and the perverted customers.
When I finally got there, a long line was outside the building. It irritated me more. Instead of waiting behind the crowd, I stalked to the front. A big-ass bouncer at the door wearing a leather vest glared as I approached. His arms were a little bigger than mine and covered in ink. I wasn’t afraid of him.
He scowled as I cut in front of people. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I need to see Scarlett Smith. She works here. It’s an emergency.”