“You say the owner treats the girls like shit. Are you saying you treated them well?”
“If you call payin’ ’em a living wage and giving them benefits, well, then, yeah.”
“Wait.” I shook my head. “That’s unheard of.”
The waitress returned with our drinks and set them on the table. “Want to open a tab?”
“Sure,” James said, handing her his credit card with his current alias. “Thanks.”
She took the card, then headed back to the bar, turning so that her bare ass cheeks nearly brushed the side of his face.
I frowned in irritation, but I reminded myself that just because we were a couple didn’t mean women would stop hitting on him. Especially in a place like this. I picked up my drink and took a sip as James took a long pull from his beer.
My mouth watered at the thought of drinking a cold beer, and I tried to tell myself that a club soda was nearly as good. It wasn’t a convincing lie.
“You were saying you treated your dancers well,” I said, “Better than most strip club owners. Why?”
He released a short laugh. “Because it was the decent thing to do?” He took another sip. “Look, I didn’t run the place. Jed did. I let him have full rein. He wanted to pay them a living wage and give them health benefits, so I agreed.”
“Don’t do that,” I said, “Don’t try to pawn off bein’ a decent person onto someone else.”
“Like I said, it was Jed’s idea.”
“But being so generous had to cut into profits.”
“I’ll say.” He took another drink. “We lost money on the place.”
“So why not cut their wages or benefits?”
He turned to look at me again. “You ever been to Fenton County?”
I shook my head.
“It’s one of the poorest counties in the state, and most of the girls workin’ there were single mothers. Hell, I’m pretty damn sure Jed set up some kind of daycare system before he quit.” He drew in a frustrated breath. “We made sure they made enough to pay their rent, feed themselves and their kids—enough that they wouldn’t be so desperate that they’d put themselves at risk by soliciting customers for extracurriculars. Some still did, but most were just tryin’ to get by.”
“What happened after Jed quit?”
He shrugged. “I got a new manager and told him to keep the same rules, but he wasn’t as respectful. And shortly after, the Feds took over.” He took another sip of his beer. “I still think about those women sometimes.”
I knew, deep down, James was a good person—I saw how he treated his staff at the tavern, but what he was describing was above and beyond. He’d gone out of his way—to the point of losing money—to help those women. Sure, they’d still stripped to make a living, but at least he’d made sure their basic needs were met.
“You say it was all Jed,” I said, “but you had to approve it.”
He shrugged. “They were his ideas.”
“But you’re the one who lost money.”
“I made enough legit money. I needed the tax break.”
I frowned. “Don’t do that.”
He turned to face me, one brow lifted. “Do what?”
“Don’t downplay what you did. I need you to be real with me, James.”
He shifted in his seat to face me fully, setting his bottle on the table. “The truth is, Harper, I never thought of a single one of those things. They were all Jed’s ideas. So I’m sure as hell not gonna take credit for them.”
“At least take credit for letting him do it and providing those women with enough money to take care of their kids.”
