“Fine.” She sighs. “But I’m taking you out for a drink this week, okay?”
Smiling, I squeeze her arm. “I appreciate all your help the last few days.”
I didn’t go into many details with her. Just that I’d broken up with my boyfriend and didn’t want to talk about it. And she didn’t push. She’s the kind of friend that’s always up for a good time, but she’s not the kind of person who makes me feel safe enough to really open up to. That’d be Sutton. And sometimes Josie. Addie would rather have aroot canal than talk about her feelings, so she’s probably the one I’ll call this week if I need company.
“Kacie, you’re up. Sav, you’re on deck,” a woman calls from the dressing room door.
“If you change your mind about the private room, we could do it together.” With a wink, Kacie turns around and struts away.
While the money is tempting, there is no way in hell I’m going into a private room with anyone tonight.
FORTY-EIGHT
CAMDEN
Thanksto my sister and her friends, it didn’t take long to find the club where Kacie works.
“Do not get yourself arrested again,” Cora says as we pull up to the club.
She refused to let me come alone, and after what I’ve put her through this week, I knew better than to argue.
“I promise. I just want to talk to her.”
My sister arches a brow. “And if she refuses to speak with you?”
“Fine. You can come in. But stay at the bar. If I throw hands, you can step in, but I need to do this myself.”
With a roll of her eyes, she opens the car door.
“And don’t talk to anyone,” I add.
Over the roof of the car, she gives me anare you fucking out of your mind?look. “Cam, I used to dance for a living. I can handle any person in this bar. Promise.”
Of course she can. That doesn’t mean I like it. I hate that she worked in a place like this. Just as much as I hate that Savannah currently is inside, maybe on that stage now. Just the thought has me hustling to the door.
By the time the bouncers let us in, my heart is pounding so loud I can barely hear the music. It’s dark in here. The walkways are lit, as is the bar and the stage, but the main area has very few overhead lights on.
The smell of booze and cheap perfume hits hard, making my stomach roll. Savannah does not belong in a place like this.
Fortunately, the woman on the stage is unfamiliar. Maybe Savannah is just bartending.
“I’ll grab drinks and keep a look out for her,” Cora says, grasping my arm. “And remember, don’t get arrested.”
“I won’t,” I promise. My head is on straight now. For the first time, it’s crystal clear just how much my fuck-up has cost Savannah. She’s working here because of me. I can’t hurt her again. I need to get this right.
The woman wearing nothing but a G-string crawls across the stage and kneels on the edge. Men lean forward and push dollar bills into the string she holds open. The nausea in my gut builds. Not Savannah. But I need to find her.
The music cuts out, and the woman on stage stands and collects the money the men in the audience have thrown at her. It’s demeaning, the way she’s forced to collect it all in front of them while almost naked. Fuck. I hate that I’ve been to places like this dozens of times and never considered the perspective of the women here to make a living. Hell, I hired strippers for my Christmas party. The same party where I met Savannah. I have no room to judge, and yet here I am, a huge fucking hypocrite, ready to rip out the eyes of every man in this room if they’ve gotten so much as a peek of Savannah.
The next woman saunters out, a new song beginning. At the sight of dark hair, I breathe a sigh of relief. Not Savannah. Though I do recognize her. This is Kacie. Savannah showed me pictures one night last week. I was curious, and Savannah had fun with it.
She stands in front of the pole, and when the light hits her, she flips upside down.
The crowd of men goes wild. Since I’m guaranteed a few more minutes before the next act, I need to fucking look for Savannah in earnest.
I catch a server’s eye, and when she smiles, I crook a finger, gesturing her over.
“Hey, sugar,” she says. “What can I get you?”
