The door behind him opened but Marcus didn’t look from thewindow even as he heard Smithie walk in.
He kept his eyes on the stage.
“I hear you have a headliner,” Marcus noted to the window,his attention aimed through it but locked on the blonde on that stage.
“Velvet rope, brother,” Smithie replied and Marcus felt himmove through the office.
He also felt him stop at Marcus’s side.
“She danced with the other girls for about a week,” Smithietold him.“Before I put her out there, saw it during her audition.Still had noidea how much of a stir she wasgonnacause due toher talent.Don’t need the bullshit it wasgonnabring, all the boysshovin’ their cash in Daisy’sstrings, the other girls get screwed since she’soutshinin’’emby a mile.If I clear the stage for her, sheworks the boys on her own, got no bitchesworkin’ mynerves,whinin’ about their tips.Four sets, threesongs each, she gets her take and then some.The other girls get a good breakto re-oil or whatever and the boys are primed and motivated to keep thegoodnessflowin’ after she leaves the stage.”
“Three sets, two songs, and no lap dances,” Marcus stated.
“Say what?”Smithie asked.
Marcus turned to the man.
He was black.Big.In his day he’d been fit, never lean, apowerhouse.His body had gone somewhat soft with age, but Smithie hadn’t gonesoft.He was sharp, shrewd, educated, and street smart.His life had beenbumpy, not as bumpy as some, but bumpier than most.He’d stood strong throughit making smart decisions, wise alliances, and not many enemies.
“Three sets, two songs, and no lap dances,” Marcus repeated.
Smithie’s brows shot together as understanding came to him.“Thought we had an agreement.”
They did.
Over a year ago, Smithie had hit some hard times with hisfamily, one of his four women’s brother finding trouble.He needed money tohelp him out.He’d taken it out of his business and to keep that businessfunctioning, he needed a partner but would only take one who was silent, leftthe running of the club to Smithie, was open to a buyout when Smithie was backon his feet, kept his nose out of it, and simply took his cut every month.
The brother, with Smithie and his woman’s help, found hisway back to the straight and narrow.
And Marcus was more than likely going to be offered a buyoutsometime soon.
But now, he was in.
“We did,” he confirmed.
“Then, respect, Marcus, but I’m not sure where you’recomin’ from with that shit,” Smithie remarked.
“An additional set and an additional song keeps the othergirls off the stage,” Marcus pointed out.
“Daisy’s been headlining for five months, and so far, theygot no problem with it.”
“They’d have less of a problem if they had twelve moreminutes on the stage to get tips.”
“Sure they would but thenDaisy’dbe out and she’d be out a whack, man.Gotta have three bouncers go out rightafter she leaves the stage because a lot of ’emdon’tbother with shoving it in her string.They’re in such a tizzy, they just throwthose bills right on the stage.”
“And the lap dances?”Marcus asked.
“It’s double to get Daisy and they’re only private.Shedoesn’t work in the room.”
“You got eyes on that?”
“Fuck yeah, Sloan,” Smithie bit out, losing patience and notthe kind of man who had trouble showing it, even to the kind of man Marcus was.“You’ve seen my setup.Got cameras everywhere.No one fucks with my girls.”
“I don’t want her doing lap dances.”
“Man, a bad night, she could bring in five hundred, athousand bucks on private dances.A good night, she’sgoin’home with two G’s cash in her purse from lap dances alone.”
Marcus looked back to the window, a feeling on the back ofhis neck like it was stinging just at the thought of that woman gyrating insome stranger’s lap.
