I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand and sighs as if he expected this reaction, which I bet is no different from the other girls. Like them, I need the money. Unlike them, I need it more than for myself.
“We’ll only do partial renovations at a time. There will be no day shifts, which isn’t something that affects you anyhow. We’ll do most of the work while we’re closed during the day and keep it clean for the night. It won’t look pretty for a while, but I plan to expedite it so we can keep the customers coming and increase our margins sooner than later.”
I nod even if he didn’t ask me a question.
“You may go. I’ll have someone get with you if I think any changes are needed with your routine.”
I stand, leaving the towel on my chair, and head for the door, but before I can open it, he stops me.
“Oh, and Payton?”
I shift my gaze back at him. He messes with his phone before putting it down and looking at me.
“Perhaps take another dance class. This time for something other than aerial.” He holds my stare, and I blink a few times, letting his words sink in.
“Do you… do you expect me to dance?” The quiver in my voice can’t be denied.
He’s slow to respond, tilting his head as if thinking it over. “Not on the stage.”
I let out a relieved breath only for it to catch as he continues.
“But if someone asks for a private dance.…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, and I feel my eyes water a second before I blink it away. It’s not a threat but a warning. I could go back there. It’s part of the job in his eyes. And if I want to keep this one, I have to be willing to do it.
I nod to show him I understand, then open the door to exit quickly. I need this job. But the fear of that room is real. I can only hope I get a customer who’s like my boss next time. One who doesn’t push. One who might be kind.
And one who has a deep voice like his, which I catch one last time before the door closes.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
Chapter 9—Tommy
One month later
“Enter,” I call out to the person who knocked on my office door, looking up, hopeful.
“That look for me or the coffee?” Dante asks as he places my caffè down and takes a seat.
I grab the cup and bring it to my lips, sipping slowly to avoid burning my tongue. It’s sickeningly hot, just how I like it. “Depends. You bring me any good news?”
“The contractors got back to us. They agreed to our timeframe of a week, but it’ll cost.”
I sigh heavily and shake my head softly so I don’t spill my coffee. “Always does. What else?” I expected them to put up a fight on the price if we asked them to do the work of four weeks in one. And while we might be in the red for a bit longer, we will more than make up for the lost revenue and debt once the outside of the club is more appealing.
I worked hard to get it the way I want it. Now we just need to finish the last bit of curb appeal to bring in a few more heavy pockets. Something I’ll have to remind Bobby about when he calls and complains about the price tag after I sign the check.
“Cold seems to be going around,” Dante continues as he leans back comfortably in his chair.
The first task we had the contractors take on was to get me a proper office. Half the staff have no clue where it is.They just know I go to a door marked Private behind the bar. In reality, it’s a stairway leading up to the converted private viewing loft that now doubles as my office. My desk takes up a third of it, but the rest is open for whatever might occur, from meetings to perhaps, one day, a private party or something of that nature. It’s wide enough to hold a dozen people comfortably. Nothing too big, only small groups, but those can be the most intimate. And it has the best view of everything happening on all three stages: the main one and the smaller ones on either side. The stage layout looks like a dick from this upper angle.
It also gives me a bird’s-eye view of everything else. Including what isn’t on the ground but rather flies high in the sky.
I clear my throat, focusing back on Dante’s daily report. He’s become a manager of sorts around here.
Carl is still around, but his time is coming. I haven’t killed him yet, though that’s only because I need to know who’s pulling his strings and where thefamiglia’s money went. Once I find that out, he’s gone.
Bobby still says someone’s stealing from us. He’s been reviewing the club’s books weekly now, using that big brain of his. Based off our calculations of what we bring in, we’re short on cash. Bobby’s estimates from the waitstaff and dancers don’t line up either. It’s a smaller amount, but we’re still not clear on where it’s missing from. Each way we look at it, we can’t seem to figure out who’s taking it. And I’m not about to show my hand that I know theft is happening. For now, I’m just looking into the matter, taking in all the intel Dante gives me and watching from my little tower, looking for anything that doesn’t belong.
