My hip is thrown out and my arms crossed.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Velvet just said that the MC is considering moving me to some waitress position at Lucky’s bar. Why would they do that?” And then my mouth drops. “Cody?”
“Close the door and sit down.”
I want to slam it but restrain myself.
“I’m good, Marnie. Damn good. Iearnedthe headliner spot, and you can’t tell me I don’t bring in lots of business.” I flingmy arm out toward the front of the house. “We’re packed almost every night I work.”
“Ginger, sit down.”
I plop into a chair and wait. “So? What’s going on?”
“Look, I’m sorry Velvet overheard my conversation. I wanted to talk to you first… not have you hear it thirdhand—”
My shoulders slump, and my mouth drops open. “It’s true?”
“What’s true is the club called. They wanted me to offer you the opportunity to waitress at Lucky’s, if that’s whatyouwant, but Crash made it clear it’s your choice. No one is making you do anything.”
“This is because of Cody. He’s the one who wants me out of here.”
“Sweetie, I see this happen all the time. A dancer’s boyfriend comes up and sees her dancing, and it always leads to trouble. Fights break out, and the guy usually ends up banned from the place. When that happens, dancers start showing up with thick makeup covering black eyes. I don’t know Cody well. He’s a new patch, but I know he grew up in the club. He should know the rules, but yes, Crash said Cole is making you this offer at Cody’s request.”
I surge to my feet. “Well, I don’t want it. I need the money I make here. There’s no way I could afford my apartment on some waitress job.”
She taps a pen on the desk and studies me. “I understand that. Believe me, I do. But look, if you and Cody become serious, I could always move you to a bartending job or a waitressing job here. It wouldn’t be as much as you make on stage, but it would be more than what you’d make at Lucky’s.”
I sigh. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good.”
“All right. I’ll let Crash know I made the offer, and you turned it down. No hard feelings.”
“I hope that’s true.”
“Darlin’, the club wants you on that stage as much as you want to be there. Believe me.”
I smile. “Thanks, Marnie.”
We hear the music change, and she jerks her head toward the door.
“Sounds like you’re up. Better hurry.”
I scurry backstage, and when the DJ starts my number, I throw the curtains back and step into the spotlight.
When my number is up and the lights go dark, I scurry to claim the bills thrown to me. After putting the cash in my locker, I hit the floor to give lap dances.
“Hey, Ginger. Over here,” one of our waitresses’ calls out, motioning me to the table behind her.
I make my way toward her and paste a smile on my face, getting ready to greet my customer.
When she steps out of the way, I freeze, my blood running cold.
He isn’t wearing his cut, but I’d recognize his bearded face anywhere. It’s haunted my nightmares. Sometimes I wake in a sweat, feeling his meaty hand gripping my wrist tight, his anger in my face.
Snake.
He pats his lap.
