And even worse… Risking Harrison witnessing the two of us go into the private area together.
But…the money is just too good.
Even with all the conditions attached to it.
“Fine,” I sigh. “Let him know I’ll do it.”
“Splendid.” Rouge opens the door of my dressing room. “I’ll fetch him now.”
She scurries out and I sit down at my makeup chair, powder my nose a bit. Have to look presentable, I suppose.
I gaze into the mirror, into the small creases in the corners of my eyes. I’m nearing forty, but I could still pass for twenty-five with the right lighting. I look damned good. I could be on the arm of any decent man, yet I’m still selling my body to the highest bidder.
When I first started offering my services to the Aces patrons, I told myself it was only a temporary measure. Just until I was secure, recovered from the bottomless pit of debt from school and then life in New York.
I was already damaged goods at that point, anyway. What did it matter?
Now I’m in much better shape, yet still I allow men to take what they want from me for the right price.
So I decide.
After Calloway, that’s it. One hour for ten thousand bucks, and then I’m officially out of business. If men want to bed me, they’ll have to court me first.
Another knock, and before I can say “come in,” Rouge and Calloway are standing at the door.
Cale Calloway is wearing a tuxedo jacket with a lopsided bowtie. His face is deeply wrinkled, and his nose and ears resemble boiled cauliflower. His eyes, which have drooped and reddened with age, are raking over me lecherously.
“I believe you two know each other,” Rouge says.
“Yes,” Calloway says on a hiss. He takes a step toward me, takes my hand, kisses it with chapped lips. “You look beautiful tonight, Miss Bianca.”
I swallow. “Thank you, Mr. Calloway.”
Rouge grins. “I won’t get in your way. Mr. Calloway, the grand suite is ready for you.”
Calloway offers me his liver-spotted hand, and I take it.
And I pray that Harrison isn’t looking as he leads me out of my dressing room.
9
HARRISON
Why the hell did that interaction with Rouge leave me so shaken?
She’s tall, statuesque. But not as tall as I am. And I could absolutely take her in a brawl, though I’d never hit a woman, of course.
It’s something in the way she carries herself. As if she’s untouchable, immortal. As though she’s a person capable of doing terrible, terrible things. She could murder the mayor of Chicago in front of the chief of police and walk free that same day.
I didn’t respond when she asked why her sister brought me to the club tonight.
I honestly don’t know why Bianca decided to let me in.
Maybe because she found me attractive? We had a flirty conversation in between her two sets, but she hasn’t come out of her dressing room since she finished her second. Maybe she just needs a few minutes to gather herself after a big performance.
Of course, Rouge made a beeline for Bianca’s dressing room after I sputtered silently in reaction to her question. She’s probably reading her sister the riot act right now.
But Bianca can take it. If there’s anyone who can handle Rouge Montrose, it’s the girl who grew up with her, who knows her better than anyone else in the world.
