I bristle at that thought. Not that Roman is unattractive. As men go, he’s incredibly gorgeous. The way he was giving me a smoldering stare as he looked me over with eyes so blue they remind me of the ocean… That moment between us, I felt like I was falling. It’s like he’d cast a spell over me with just a few words. All at once, I found myself wanting him to take me in his arms and…
Oh, boy. I really have to get a grip.
“It’s nice,” Natasha goes on. “Clearly, he’s into you.”
I pull my legs up under me as I sit on my side of the couch. “Lots of men are into me. That’s nothing new.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “So, what does that mean? You’re not interested in him?Seriously?He’ssoyour type. Tall, dark, muscley, kind of imposing. He’s actually the opposite of Ricky, you know.”
“He’s also a criminal, Tash. Do you seriously think I could be with somebody like him? And all that talk about teaching me the business… I don’t want to get caught up in something illegal. Especially after everything that happened with Ricky. I didn’t get out of that mess just to volunteer for another one.”
“Okay, first of all, you don’tknowthat he’s Bratva.”
“I looked him up, Tash. After that one day he came looking for Omar.” I take a drink from my own glass, welcoming the alcohol to calm my nerves. “You know, he’s got a rap sheet as long asmy arm. Racketeering, grand larceny,multipleassault charges… The FBI is probably building a RICO case on him right now. He’s, like, seven feet of bad news, Tasha.”
“So, he’s been in some trouble. None of that means he’s connected,” she says. “I mean, lots of guys out here get into it with the law every now and then. It’s more common than you think.”
“That’s probably the most hopeless thing you’ve ever said.” I snicker and sip my wine. “Whether or not I want to fuck him isn’t the point, though. The point is that he’s ready to pull the rug out from under me. You know how long I looked for work after Ricky took off. I really can’t just go out and find another job.”
“I know. And you’ve really done some good as manager at the club. Omar and Jorge never gave a fuck about us girls. We were always having problems with the customers, with each other?—”
I wave her off. “I know, I know. It’s a better place since I signed on. Right.”
I drink my wine as the wheels turn. She leans into me. “You’re not really thinking about leaving, though, are you?”
“I don’t want to, Tash. But look at my options. I either work for a criminal boss or keep my soul and leave. And be out of work again for God knows how long. Get evicted, live on the street…” I shake my head. “And I was just getting caught up on my bills.”
She bites her lip as she gazes at me with worried eyes. “You think he’s really gonna burn the place down if you leave?”
“He was pretty clear about that.” I rub my finger against the glass, making a soft thrumming noise that vibrates. It’s a soothing sensation. “He’s done his research on the revenueincrease at the club. He knows all the work I put into that place. I don’t think it matters to him one way or the other, really. He makes out like a bandit if I go and he still makes money if I stay.” I shake my head slowly. “It’s either me or nothing, I guess.”
Natasha frowns and swirls the pink liquid around in her glass thoughtfully. “Your dad would be proud of you if you left,” she says.
My dad served on the police force my entire life until some random nut killed him when I was fifteen. I’ve done my absolute best to stay on the right road when it came to my life. Even when my friends called me ‘Goody-two-shoes’. Even when it meant missing out on parties when I knew there would be underage drinking.
I’ve done my father’s memory good so far. Even in a place where Omar and Jorge would turn a blind eye to the extracurricular activities of their employees, I’ve been straight this whole time.
It’s not fair. I deserve some kind of reward for all the right things I did. As hard as I try to deny it, this whole situation feels like a punishment for spending my life as a good girl. No good deed and all that bullshit.
“My dad,” I say out loud, “would have disapproved of my taking this job in the first place. He’d have told me to find a job as a secretary or a waitress before managing a strip club. I can actually hear him in my head.‘Sure, it doesn’t pay as much as the last job, but it’s honest work. And you can’t put a price on that.’” I snicker and shake my head. “Well, surprise, Dad. Turns out you can put a price on it.”
Natasha sets her drink down and turns to me, crisscrossing her legs under her. “So, then, what do you do? I mean, I’m going to support you no matter what you decide.”
“Even if I leave? You’ve been at the Kitten’s Paw for the last five years. You’ll have to find work again too.”
“Tits and ass are recession-proof,” she says with a little smile. “I mean, I’m almost thirty, but I still look around twenty-two. Especially if I put my hair up in pigtails. I’ll still be able to find work if the Kitten’s Paw goes up.” She pauses, looking down at her drink thoughtfully. “Won’t be as good as it was, though. All things considered, Em, you’ve been a great manager. All of us appreciate everything you’ve done for the club and for us.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
She reaches out and touches my hand. “I meant what I said, though. Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back.”
We go on drinking and talking. Natasha starts to tell me about this new guy she’s dating. Someone she met online who has no idea what she does for a living. They’ve been dating now for almost a month and she’s managed not to tell him. I keep telling her that she needs to figure that out before he ‘accidentally’ finds out about it at one of his friends’ bachelor party or something.
I’m a little jealous of Natasha. Her life ran almost the exact opposite of mine. Neglectful, borderline abusive parents fostered her morally gray attitude toward life. In high school, Natasha was popular in a way that felt more genuine than the cheerleaders. She surrounded herself with people who liked her because of her personality, not because she was pretty or wore fashion-forward clothes, though that stuff didn’t hurt.
For me, I’ve always been in awe at how she just didn’t give a fuck what people thought of her. She generally did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. And when she turned eighteen and decided that she couldn’t live in her parents' house anymore, she started making money as a stripper. The problem that I ran into with a man stealing my money is something that has never happened and would probably never happen to her. In a lot of ways, she was freer than I’ve ever been.
She downs the last of her drink and looks at the time on her phone. “I’d better get going,” she says. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in the morning and I want to hit the gym early.” She stands up and looks back at me. “Want to come with? Maybe sweating out some of your anxiety will help.”
