After popping a stick of gum into my mouth, I make my way toward the stage to take a peek at the audience. I was expecting a smallish group of guys, but I was wrong. It’s packed with men and a few women too. I scan the crowd, spotting Specter against the wall by the door. Gus is there too, along with two other men who are wearing band shirts.
Ivy is on stage, swinging around to “Kiwi” by Harry Styles, and the audience is having a good time. Rudy is out working the crowd, flirting with all the guys as he gets them to buy bottles, which probably isn’t too challenging with a group of rock stars and their friends.
I see the lead singer—I can’t remember his name—but heonly looks mildly amused, slightly checked out, until he notices Rudy making his way over. His face lights up with interest and I smile. Maybe Rudy will have a special fan experience tonight. He never hooks up with clientele, but I bet he’d be willing to make an exception in this case. There are worse choices than a tall, muscular, tatted rock star.
Ivy’s act ends with a spectacular back flip before he slithers to the end of the stage, sliding up and down on his knees before tearing away the tiny loin cloth that was covering his barely there G-string. The lights go down and the audience claps and shouts for Ivy.
Rudy pulls himself away from the rocker, whispering something in his ear, and I see the rock star’s hand resting on Rudy’s hip. Oh yeah, that’s a connection.
I wrap my robe around me to hide my outfit, then head out into the club to do my crowd work. I could do it with my eyes closed these days. My aloof but teasing demeanor always gets the guys excited for more, and even though all I want from any of them is for them to spend more money, they don’t know that.
“Hey, sexy,” one of the guys says to me, reaching out and just barely touching my arm. I turn to him with a cool smile and pop my gum.
“Hey there.”
“You dancing tonight?” he asks.
“Yes. After this dancer.”
His eyes flick to the stage, then back to me. He licks his lips as his gaze roams over me, then pats his lap. “Can you sit?”
“That depends. What do you want from me?”
He grins, dragging a hand through his shaggy blue hair. “Just a few minutes of your time.”
Nodding, I settle on his lap, draping my arm around his shoulders for balance. I’m not sure how Specter is taking this, but I don’t dare look. This is my job and he has to understand that.
“It’s Bastion’s birthday,” the man says.
“Sorry, I don’t know who Bastion is.”
He snorts a laugh. “He’s the lead singer.”
“Ah. And you are?”
“Drummer. Just call me Styx.” His hand moves to my lower back, dangerously close to breaking some club rules, but Jimmy already told us to be gracious tonight. The band paid a shit ton of money to get a private showing. “What’s your name?”
“Cashmere.”
“Mm. Fitting. You’re fucking gorgeous.”
“Thanks.”
Styx’s dark eyes rake over my face, and I study his in return. It’s pleasant enough, but he’s got a lot of piercings, and he’s playing with the hoop in his bottom lip with his teeth. He’s also got tattoos covering most of his flesh except for the very center of his face. Not my type even if I wasn’t wildly in love, but I imagine he doesn’t have any trouble finding people to grace his bed.
“Are you queer?” he asks.
“Yes. I assume you are as well?”
He nods, licking his lips. “It’s been a while though.”
“What has?”
“Since I’ve had some decent dick.”
“Oh.”
“Know where I could find some? Someone exquisite like you?”
