“If we hang around while the club is closed, are we guaranteed our jobs?” It was the barmaid, and she sucked noisily on a lollypop while she waited for an answer.
“I might reshuffle positions,” Julia said without hesitation. “Everyone will receive training, and I’ll assess your strengths and weaknesses—”
“If you intend to do any of that touchy-feely shit businesses do to bond their staff, I’m out of here,” the barmaid said.
“That’s your prerogative,” Julia said.
The lollypop bulged in one cheek. “Huh?”
“She means you need to make up your own mind,” one stripper murmured.
“If there are no other questions, you’re free to go. Please let Susan know if you intend to continue with your employment here or, if you prefer, you can stop by tomorrow morning and tell me then. Those of you who wish to remain, please arrive at nine tomorrow morning. We’ll work office hours until the club reopens.”
“You can pull your tongue in now,” Ryan said with a glance at Caleb. “And get your eyes off my wife’s arse.”
“Wow,” Caleb said. “Did you realize she could do that?”
“No,” Ryan said, torn between wanting to stare hungrily at her exposed flesh—because she hadn’t pulled on her clothes again—and wanting to rush over and cover her long limbs and torso with a… He glanced around for something suitable. A curtain might do the job. “My wife has hidden talents.”
“I’m only going to Tauranga for the weekend,” Caleb said.
Ryan ripped his gaze off Julia to stare at his friend. “What? Why? You told your parents you were going for an entire week.”
“This is way too good to miss. Besides, I want to help. They’re going to paint and stuff. We can do that. We can help sort out the lighting and the stage props, and since you already have so many songs done, we can get a head start on the arrangements.”
“One condition,” Ryan said, turning back to watch Julia. God, she was so beautiful. He’d already known she was bright and intelligent, but now he was seeing it in action, and it was damn sexy.
“What’s that?”
“You stop flirting with my wife.”
“Nope,” Caleb said. “I’ve decided I have a thing for troublesome women. I need to keep you honest. Besides, if she kicks your sorry ass to the footpath, I want to be on the spot to grab my chance.”
Ryan snorted rudely. “Julia is mine, and I have the marriage certificate to prove it. We’d better finish our assignment and make ourselves indispensable, otherwise both our arses will leave skid marks along the pavement.”
“We could help her out with finances,” Caleb said.
“I’ve considered offering money, but I don’t want to injure her pride.”
“We can offer to pay for rehearsal space.”
“Yeah, that might work. I’ll run the idea past her tomorrow.” He considered Julia’s sexy stage routine and smiled. “I have an idea for another song. Two, actually.”
“Spill. Wait. It’s not a ballad is it?”
“One of each,” Ryan said, excitement pounding through him. This was a way to help Julia, something concrete to assist her with the club—a special theme song byFrench Letters. There must be a way to swing something so the band wasn’t outed, because he wanted to help.
Caleb played with the lights, testing the different spotlights and the color filters. Ryan watched with a critical eye.
“She won’t need to do much with the lighting. The wiring and everything looks good,” Caleb said, after peering into the switchbox and prodding a few things.
“The curtain and some of the props they have back here need renewing. They’re tacky and old.” Ryan tapped a large metal birdcage, big enough for a person, and a cloud of dust rose. He backed away before he sneezed.
“You want to report to Julia?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah.”
Ryan appreciated Caleb giving him space and the opportunity of a few private words with her. He practiced what he’d say in his mind while he searched the club for her. He ran her to ground in the stock room where she was doing an inventory of the booze with one of her friends. “Hey.”
