“Um, okay, sure.” I stood and bent to whisper in Harlan’s ear. “Don’t be a jerk. I’ll meet you back up front by the bar.” Without giving either of them another look, I walked out.
“Close the door behind you, please,” James called after me.
As I pulled the door shut, my heart thumped in a crazy rhythm. Why the hell was I so nervous for Harlan?
Chapter Four
HARLAN
Sitting before Cort’sboss, James, made me nervous, and I never got nervous. Not when I needed to go to court and hadn’t looked at the file beforehand. Not when I had to present at the partners’ meetings and I wasn’t prepared. More nervous than the first time I kissed a man.
We gazed at each other, and then James gave me a slight smile. My heart raced.He knows. He knows who I am.
“Now that Cort is gone, would you like to tell me the real story? I only picked up bits and pieces from the gossip mill, and we all know how poorly those stories translate to the actual truth. You’re Harlan DeWitt.”
Not a question but a statement of fact. And I had to admire his coolness. James was the man I’d hoped to be before I chickened out and decided to medicate my life away.
“I am. Or, truthfully, I was. My family wants to have nothing to do with me. Because of my poor decisions, I exposed the firm to a huge lawsuit. It’s the business they care about. It’s always been the business.”
“I heard there was a lawsuit. A group of employees, present and former, sued the firm for harassment.” His gaze flickered. “Poor decision is what we’re calling it? Sexual harassment, hostile work environment, retaliation…it was settled out of court, but my sources said the firm paid out a very large sum.”
I’d already been gone by that time, but I could only imagine. “Yes. They took my apartment. It was in the firm’s name. Everything I had was owned by them. Tax purposes. I’m sure you understand.”
I paused, expecting James to interrupt with a question, but he remained silent, so I continued.
“The firm had insurance, of course, but taking my home was done purely out of spite.”
“Were they true? The charges.” His steady gaze never wavered from mine, and the only sound in the room was our breathing—his quiet, mine roaring in my ears. No use in lying to the man. He was the type who could see through a cement wall.
“For the most part. I was a miserable excuse for a human being. Then.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m trying to get past it, day-by-day. Am I sorry? Hell, yeah. Not sorry I got caught out. Sorry I let myself get to that point. But I can’t live with regrets. Regrets serve no purpose except to keep me thinking about the past, and I’m done with who I was.”
He studied me, and I gave back as good as I got. Unflinching. Unafraid.
“You happen to be right. I subscribe to the same attitude, but for different reasons. However, I’ve never hurt people or used them, and I don’t like people who do. But then again, I think most people are shit, and I’m almost always proved correct.”
“I happen to agree with you.”
He gave me one of those piercing stares again. “And yet I’m still going to offer you the job here. I don’t know what your plans are, but what they won’t include is being rude or dismissive to anyone who works here. You will be one step up from the dishwasher, and frankly, if he doesn’t show up some nights, you’ll fill in for him, as well as help José at the bar with whatever he needs. You take direction from him or me. Understood?”
“Understood.”Did I ever.
“If I need you to wait tables, you’ll do so. That’s where the most money is for the dancers, so we need things to go seamlessly. You’ll get tips as well, so behave accordingly. Always suggest top shelf. You’ll dress in all black—pants, tops, socks, and shoes. The focus needs to remain on the dancers and their ability to get the customers to spend as much as possible.”
“Got it.”
“And speaking of the dancers.” His eyes darkened, and he leaned slightly forward. “Keep away from them. I don’t give a shit if you’re gay, straight, or bi, but the dancers are here to work. Not to get touched, spoken to rudely, or be treated as sexual playthings. They’re off-limits. What you choose to do on your own time is for you to decide, but once you step in my club, you play by my rules. Have I made myself clear?”
“Crystal.”
“The pay is minimum wage. Fifteen dollars an hour. You’ll come in at seven to help set up the bar and stay until after cleanup, usually around two–two thirty. Sometimes earlier. We’re open seven days a week. You can choose to work all seven, but you need to work five, including weekends. Any questions?”
I had nothing to say. “No.”
“You’re a long way from Andover and Yale. No more safety net to catch you. No one here cares where you went to school, or who your grandfather was, or how much money your family has. Homes in the Hamptons and Aspen don’t impress here. You’re just another guy.”
