“I want both. I’ve seen you handle yourself, and I think having you by her side is fine. But I want cover. Eagle eyes.”
Eagle eyes on Marietta. Great. “How long do you think this threat will be around?”
Iron Jack takes a sip of the scotch. “I’d like to get that cherry handled. Someone take her on. Be her full-time gig. We think she might take a shine to Adam. He’s more her speed. Lighthearted, you know. Not so heavy-handed.”
Shit. They’re giving Marietta to this new prospect?
“How do you know this prospect isn’t a plant?”
“I knew his dad. He didn’t want his kid in the club, but he passed on about a year ago. Adam will be good new blood. Like the mouse.” He sets his empty glass down. “We could use some spirited young people around.”
I guess he lumps me in with the callous old guard. It’s the military work. Diesel and I both have that hardness about us.
“How about Marietta coming here?” I ask him. “She’s been working on Wednesday nights.”
He glances around. “Yeah, sure. This is fine. Can’t keep her cooped up. But see if she’ll stick to school and here until we get her handled. Hopefully, Adam will be the ticket.”
I nod, but inside I’m thinking,Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’s about to stand up, but I hold out a hand. “Has she met him yet? Adam?”
He grins. “She’s with him right now. It’s going well from what I hear. Betz is supervising.”
Well, shit.
Iron Jack gets up and heads for the door.
When I walk behind the bar, I unload barware from the dishwasher to keep my mind off Marietta and this new prospect.
But after breaking two pints in a row, Diesel nudges me aside. “Let Jake do that before you run us out of business on glass.”
I step aside, then turn around and pull a Guinness from the tap. I down half of it before pausing.
“Drinking on the job,” Diesel says, tucking a towel under the bar. “What’s eating you?”
I haven’t spilled a word about Marietta, not even to him. “Club bullshit.”
He pulls the towel back out and runs it along the bar. “Anything to do with that pole setup I saw in the storage room?”
Fuck. “Why would it?”
He grins. “I dunno. Red spangles on the stage when the band got here. More on the base of the pole. You taking Marietta to her pole class.”
“Well, aren’t you a regular Sherlock?” I down the other half of the beer.
“You already take that cherry? Did you just inform Iron Jack?”
I shove the glass in the sink since the dishwasher is clean. “I haven’t taken anything. And Iron Jack has recruited a new prospect for her.”
“To smash that virgin vault?” Diesel stops moving the towel.
“Eventually, I guess. He says the new guy is more appropriate for Marietta than any of us black-hearted bastards.”
“He might be right about that.”
Was he? Fuck.
Several groups approach the bar, and the next twenty minutes are nonstop slinging drinks.
