“Wait. Fuck, she wasn’t a stripper. I hired her as a cleaner.”
She doesn’t answer right away, but her shoulders slowly slump, and it takes more willpower than I like to admit to not wrap her in my arms.
No, I haven’t forgotten anything. Jas hated what Kelly did. Not the stripping so much, but the rest of it.
Hell, I tried to protect her from the worst of it, but somehow she always knew when her mom had been the entertainment at some big party the Bastards threw. As a prospect, I always found it awkward and uncomfortable, and could never watch when Kelly was in the spotlight. If ever things got down and dirty, I walked, even when the older brothers mocked me for it. She was my Jas’s mom, and I couldn’t stomach it, and I could hardly imagine how much it tore Jas up inside.
Finally, she faces me. “A cleaner.”
“I wouldn’t have hired her to do the dancing.” Kelly might’ve still looked good for an older chick, but the girls who work on the floor are all in their early twenties. Probably best if I don’t tell Jas that.
“Right.” She takes a deep breath. “So, she wasn’t doing any extracurricular activities for you, either?”
Is she accusingmeof taking advantage of her own mother? “Extracurricular activities? I’m not a fucking pimp. My girls are dancers, not hookers.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t sound sorry. “No special perks for your VIPs?”
“Yeah, I have private booths where clients pay extra for a lap dance, and if they grab the girl they’re out on their ass.”
“That’s not the way Jett operated.”
“Newsflash, babe. I’m not my father.”
She doesn’t back down. Instead she stares me out, and there’s no trace of the vulnerability that tore me apart just moments ago.
“So, is the Hammer part of his operations? Or all yours?”
I’m not sure I like her tone, but I guess a part of me wants her to know this is all mine. “Nothing to do with Jett. Got this place up and running a couple of years ago.”
“And it’s all legit?”
I shrug. “You know how it is.”
“Yes.” She leans back against my desk, her hands gripping the edge. “I do knowhow it is.”
My patience snaps. “Don’t hold back, Jas. If there’s something you want to say, just fucking say it.”
“Okay.” There’s a strange, cool note in her voice that for some reason scrapes along my nerves. “Would you show me the employment contracts you have with your dancers?”
The fuck? “What?”
“How do you handle allegations of sexual harassment? You say clients are supposed to keep their hands off the girls, but what happens in practice?”
“In practice?” I close the distance between us until I’m looming over her. She doesn’t even blink. “I’ll tell you what happens. They touch my girls and they’re lucky if they can still use their legs to crawl out of the place.”
“Viking Bastards included?”
“Too damn right.” Not that they would, since that’d be disrespecting me, and I shouldn’t have to tell herthat.
She gives a wintry smile. “I guess the same rules don’t apply to you.”
“I make the rules. So yeah, they do apply to me.” What the hell’s wrong with her? It’s like she wants to fight, like she’s still all worked up over her mom, except she’s not crying or getting hysterical. She’s so calm it doesn’t make any sense.
“Are you telling me you don’t make passes at the women who work here?”
“Why? Jealous?” It’s crazy. I want her to be jealous, even though she has no reason to be. She never had any reason to be.
She’s screwing with my mind again…
