Spread (Club Deep #2)

Besides, now that I know that this job is messing with Cosette’s head so much, how could I ever be happy there? Yeah. I need to quit.

And just like it’s always been when I come up here, a weight lifts off my shoulders like the mountain was ready to take it, ready to show me what I should do. The walk down the mountain is way easier than the climb up. Now that I’ve decided, everything feels…easy. I hope it stays that way.

10

I can’t tell Julian. Not in person, at least. If I do, he’ll talk me into staying, and I wish that I could trust myself to say no. But he’ll do something crazy like offer me even more money, or kiss me and make me feel that unmistakable pleasure that I haven’t been able to get enough of, and with my head dizzy from his presence, I’ll tell him that I’ll stay.

So I’ll just find someone to tell him for me. I pull into the empty Club Deep parking lot and hope that someone is actually here. It’s still pretty early in the day, but maybe someone is inside. The door is unlocked, which probably means at least someone is here in one of the offices. But I’m not going to go poking around in those back hallways in case Julian himself is actually here.

The inside of the club is quiet, but there are a few people here and there. The janitorial staff is cleaning the playrooms and the stages, and across the room I see one of the bartenders taking stock of the alcohol at the main bar. “Hey, Trish,” I call out to her as I cross the room. She and I have developed the start of a friendship over the past month, the same way I feel about some of the other dancers. She’s one of the people I hope I can still talk to after I’m gone.

She looks up, surprised. “Hey, Libby. What are you doing here so early?”

I hesitate, running my fingers across the bar. As soon as I tell her there’s no going back, and even though I know that it’s the right thing to do, it still isn’t easy.

“I hate to ask you to do this, but could you pass a message to Jul—to Mr. Rivers for me?”

She gives me a look, but nods. “Sure.”

“Can you just tell him that I won’t be coming back? Tell him thank you for his generosity.”

“You’re quitting? Seriously?”

“It’s for the best,” I say.

“Well that sucks,” she says. “All of the patrons really love you. You’ve got fans.”

I frown at her. “Really?”

Trisha laughs. “Hell yeah. People like to watch you dance. People call you the hottest dancer in here. You don’t wonder why you get all the tips?”

“I don’t get all of them.”

She puts her clipboard on the bar and gives me a look that tells me I should know better. “All of them? No. Most of them? Yes. Haven’t you noticed the way the other dancers look at you?”

That same stinking dread I felt last night is back. “No.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t hurt to tell you since you’re quitting,” she says. “You might be the favorite with the crowd, and with the boss, and with them.”

“Did I do something—”

“Wrong?” She laughs. “Hell no, girl. If I were you I’d be doing the exact same thing. You’re good at what you do. But those thousand dollar tips used to be spread out among the dancers at random, just to get the club going. Now he only tips you. Like I said, I don’t blame you. But coming in and suddenly becoming the favorite isn’t always going to win you friends. Know what I mean?”

My face goes hot, and I look away, feeling sudden tears in my eyes. I had thought I was making friends. Now I’ll never know who was being nice to me because they liked me and who was nice to me because they thought I was the favorite and didn’t want to get on my bad side. I shake my head, sniffing to keep from showing her how much that upsets me. “Well, they don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Guess not,” she says. “You gonna stop by at all?”

“Sure.” I try to sound more upbeat than I feel. “Gotta come see my best friend dance sometime, right?”

“Right.” She turns to go back to her stock of the liquor. “See you around, Libby.”