Julia turned away, swallowing the lump constricting her throat. Ryan had burrowed into her heart like a parasitic worm, and she hadn’t managed him. Not a bit. She forced a smile to her lips, aiming for one that declared she was a competent adult and in complete control. “How’s Mum?”
Stan shook his head, his dark brows drawing together. “Not so good. All the stress isn’t good for her heart. If I ever see that rat manager I’ll wring his neck. Bloody thief, if you’ll pardon my French.”
“We’ve come to help,” Susan said.
“Good. Elise needs help, no matter how much she refutes it,” Stan said. “Go right in, ladies.”
“Is it busy tonight?” Julia asked.
A gusty sigh escaped him. “Business is bad this year. The new club down the street has stolen most of our customers. They seem to have a line outside for most of the night.”
Christina nudged Maggie. “We’ll check out the competition too.”
Julia shook her head a fraction, although she didn’t attempt verbal dissent. Once an idea wriggled into their heads, her friends became an unstoppable force. Tight Five, indeed.
“How is tomorrow night for you? Since it’s Friday, Connor will come with us,” Maggie said. “He’s playing rugby on Saturday afternoon and won’t be drinking. He can be our designated driver.”
“It sounds as if our adventure will be a big one,” Susan murmured to Julia.
“Yeah.” Julia wasn’t sure whether to strangle or hug her friends. “I hope you have a thick notepad.” She pushed through the internal double doors leading into the club.
The smoke she recalled from her younger years was a thing of the past due to the anti-smoking laws. Instead, a cocktail of alcohol, body odor and strong aftershave greeted her. Her nose wrinkled at the stale atmosphere, and imaginary cooties jumped on to her arms and legs, slithering along her flesh.
“Susan,” she said crisply. “Make a note. We need to do something with the air conditioning.” They were here now, and she might as well act on her friends’ suggestion. Put together an action plan. Even if her mother sold, she’d need to do a few improvements to attract a buyer.
“It’s very…ah…interesting,” Maggie said, after a quick glance around the cavernous interior.
“Don’t bother with tact,” Julia said, taking in the tired décor and carpet stained by numerous drunk and clumsy customers. “It’s even worse than I remember.”
The red velvet furnishings bore patches, the repairs even more noticeable because of the lack of customers. Up on the stage a young woman with long, chemical-blonde hair and a bored expression went through a lackluster routine. Her jaw worked a piece of gum. That, at least, matched the beat of the music. The song trailed off, and the woman stalked off the stage. Not one man attempted to give her a tip. Not surprising given her second-rate performance.
“We have our work cut out for us,” Christina said in woeful understatement.
Nodding, Julia continued to catalogue the problems. They needed to gut the entire building and start again. Hire new strippers. Advertise. Get proactive instead of settling for the same old methods, which weren’t working. She frowned. Her mother had a knack for the business and could instinctively tell if a woman had what it took to make a good stripper. For the club to go so far downhill and her not realize… Guilt rose to the surface again. She was a bad daughter. She should’ve checked on her mother more often.
At her side, Susan faltered when a drunken man blundered past on the way to the restrooms. “I’m up for the challenge,” she said, her blue eyes bulging as she took in her surroundings.
Maggie swung around in a slow circle, studying every gaping deficiency. She turned to face them and broke into a grin. “Let’s do it.”
Damn, Julia wanted to weep again. She peered through shimmering eyes at her friends. “The margaritas have rotted your brains.”
“I agree with Maggie,” Christina said.
Julia glanced at Susan, the normal naysayer and voice of reason. “Are you sure?”
Susan nodded emphatically. “I want to do this.”
“I still think you need your heads read by a professional, but let’s find my mother. She might talk sense into you.” Julia strode up to the bar with her friends at her back. Gratitude she couldn’t express clamped around her ribs, making it difficult to breathe. They were the best, but they had no idea what was involved in running a strip club.
A buxom barmaid sauntered up to them as she gulped down the handful of crisps she’d shoved in her mouth. “Yeah, what will it be?”
“Where’s Elise?” Julia asked. The woman needed to lose both the food habit and her attitude.
“She’s out the back.” The woman indicated a door behind the bar with a jerk of her finger. “Wait, you can’t come back here.”
“I’m Elise’s daughter,” Julia said. “Stan will vouch for me.” She stalked to the door, aware of the others hurrying after her.
“Julia?”
