After the money giving has died down, we file off the stage and head to the back. The others will do a quick change then head back out to dance some more but they will just be background, the men will be doing business.
My time is done. Ellie only wanted me for that dance. Slipping my sleeves back into the jacket I go into the private room instead of the dressing room. I need a minute to get my head around everything.
Dancing up there was amazing. I loved the routine, the stripping part didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. Everything Ellie has done has really helped my mindset.
Staring at myself in the mirror I smile. I did it. Something I set out to do by myself I’ve finally achieved. If only they could see me now.
My step-sister, Adeline would lose her shit and call me all kinds of names, but that is nothing new, she has done that from the moment I met her.
I don’t want to think about Stephen, and close my eyes to push memories of him away. My step-mother can’t say or do anything anymore, given she is dead.
The door opens and I turn around to tell whoever it is that I’ll get out of their way. It’s Cantrell, and he’s glaring at me as he steps inside.
Shit. I’ve allowed myself to be cornered in a room where no one knows I am. And there is so much noise outside and everyone is distracted, they’re probably not going to miss me.
“You’re not supposed to be back here,” I say, sounding a lot more confident than I feel.
“I thought you were fired.” He closes the door. “Instead they just moved you up on the stage. Makes sense, with tits like that.”
I breathe through the anger at his words. Ellie is right, not reacting is the best thing I can do.
“You think you’re too good for my money?”
“I’m not supposed to pick money up from the floor.”
He laughs. “Don’t whores always scoop up whatever people throw at them.”
“I’m not a whore.”
My nostrils flare as my words come out emotionless. He doesn’t like it. From being in here a lot over the last few weeks I know there isn’t really anything I can use to protect myself. A wooden chair maybe.
There are always my heels, with the pointy studs. It will be a shame to damage them but if I have to, I will. This snake is not getting his hands anywhere near me.
“Working in a place like this, don’t kid yourself. And I think I’m owed something seen as how I tossed you three hundred bucks. What does that get me?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit, I think it gets me bending your ass over that chair and fucking it, hard. And no one is going to stop me.” He moves towards me.
My throat swells and pinpricks start to swirl at the edges of my vision. Shit, I cannot have a panic attack, not now.
I’m so lost that I don’t notice light spilling into the room behind him. He’s so focused on hurting me, he doesn’t either.
Until something rams into his back and sends him sprawling face first into the floor.
Chapter Thirteen
Nashville
“That fucker is getting on my last nerve,” I snarl at Razer.
“The dickhead who threw cash on the floor?” he answers, drinking from his glass of vodka. “They’re fucking idiots all of them.”
“Keep that shit to yourself,” Rebel boots him. “You want to fuck this up?”
Razer holds up a hand to say sorry but we all know he only means sorry for saying it out loud, not that he is sorry for actually saying it.
“At least she didn’t pick it up,” he says.
