“Yes,” Toxic replies.
“And tell me again why you can’t put her up in a hotel with all that damn stripping and poker money you make?”
“Because I can’t afford to take time off from work, and we need to get to know each other better.”
An awkward silence falls over us, making me feel suddenly self-conscious.
To Carl, I’m just another problem. If I could show him that taking me on comes with some benefits, his assessment of the situation could shift.
Leaning forward, I smile as I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Carl, I understand why you might be hesitant to allow me onto your bus, but what you may not realize is that you stand to benefit considerably from my presence.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m sure bus life comes with a lot of chores. I could take them on to alleviate the stress from your…your Hunks.”
“That’s what Bianca is for, and besides, I’d never let a pregnant woman around chemicals.”
I nod, seeing his point.
“Then, perchance, I could make it worth your while financially. How much would a week on the Hunks bus cost me?”
“Lady, we make more than enough money without turning our bus into a hotel.”
“That’s fair…” My words trail off as my mind races a mile a minute, trying to come up with the perfect plan that would benefit everyone.
“Look,” Carl says, sighing as he speaks, “I understand that you’re in a tough place, but we can’t pick up every damn stray that needs a home.”
“And I’m not asking you to,” Toxic says. “We just need a few days.”
“How about I give you the week off with no repercussions?” Carl offers.
Toxic shakes his head from side to side. “That doesn’t work for me. I’m trying to save money, and I’ll need time when the baby comes.”
Carl frowns.
“I’ll work to earn my keep,” I blurt, this time with more confidence.
“Didn’t I just tell you no?”
Looking him dead in the eyes, I begin to negotiate.
It starts with body language. I uncross and recross my legs to the opposite side, a power move I learned during my extensive education.
“Oh, Carl. If that’s where you think my talents lie, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“I’m sorry, but the women who come to our shows wouldn’t take well to a female up on the stage, especially a pregnant one.”
“Are you insinuating…youareinsinuating I’m a stripper!”
“Sorry.” He scratches the back of his head. “I guess I must have read you wrong.”
“I own a PR company named Weston Relations. I represent several celebrity clients, and I believe my connections and skills could be of use to you.”
He leans back in his chair, his head cocks to the side. “How so?”
“I could start by getting sponsors, getting your Hunks invited to some events, and even getting a few influencers to attend your shows. I could bring you to the next level, and it wouldn’t be that hard.”
This isn’t just a win for him. Partnering with the Hunks would give me access to a group of men other PR firms have overlooked. They could help stem the tide of negative press.
