Sasha’s best friend is marrying some guy who owns a security company. The way Sasha describes it, he basically commands his own private army. She’s been threatening to call in a squadron of bodyguards for a few weeks now. I didn’t think she’d actually do it.
“This is only going to make things worse. He’s going to be pissed.”
It’s not like I didn’t know this was a strip club when I started. I’m used to waiting tables
and letting drunk guys feel me up in exchange for tips. But Lattimer has suddenly decided that I need to fit in more with the other waitresses. I’ve always been able to wear my black skirt and short belly top.
Now he wants me to wear this.
I look down at the bikini top in my hand. It’s yellow and sparkly, sending iridescent beams of light back up into my eyes. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. People wear less sunbathing at the beach. Well, not me. I’ve always worn one-piece suits.
“You’re not the only reason I called him,” Sasha whispers. She avoids my eyes and takes a small sip from her cup. Steam curls up between us in little wisps.
“Did he threaten you?” I whisper.
The thought of Lattimer bullying her fills me with helpless rage. Sasha is one of the only girls here who stands up to him. As a result, he singles her out more than the others when he’s on one of his tirades.
“Yeah but I can handle him. It’s the rest of you guys I’m worried about. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Em.”
Something inside me shrivels up at just the thought. He’s easily old enough to be my father. My thoughts must be written clearly on my face because Sasha suddenly bursts out laughing. “If you could see your face right now!”
I start giggling, too. I’m sure my face probably looked like I’d just bitten into a lemon because that’s how I feel when I think of him. Like I have a sour taste in my mouth that I can’t get rid of.
“But seriously, I know you haven’t said anything because you need the job but no one should have to put up with this crap for a paycheck. Someone needs to put him in his place. And luckily I know just the guy for the job.”
“Your friend’s boyfriend must be pretty scary.”
Sasha makes a small murmur of agreement. “Yeah, he’s pretty intense. Lattimer is probably going to pee his pants. I must admit I’m looking forward to watching Eli make that little worm squirm.”
I bump her shoulder lightly. “Thanks, Sasha.”
She grins back at me and yanks the yellow sequins out of my hand. “You’re welcome. And you’re not wearing this one. Come on. I have some time before my set. If you’re going to show a little more skin, let’s find something that doesn’t make you look like a broken stoplight.”
CHAPTER FOUR
TANK
I’m about to pull off when my phone vibrates against my side. It's buried in the inner pocket of my leather jacket. I pull it out and stare at the screen.
Eli Alexander.
"Hey boss, miss me already?"
I'm joking but in a way I'm not. My boss and I are pretty tight. He gave me a job when I wasn't sure what the hell I was going to do with myself. My Army Special Forces training doesn't exactly line up with any of the typical job listings. Recon, tracking people, shooting shit, I'm your guy. I wasn't sure how I was going to fit into a typical nine-to-five situation when Elliott gave me a job with his private security firm.
"Tank? Hey, how are things with your brother?"
I didn't tell Eli the full truth about why I needed time off. He knows my brother hasn't been doing well and that my mom has been in the hospital. I left out the part about Daddy Warbucks. I figured that was too weird to share.
"He's doing about the same. I just left his apartment after making him take his meds."
"Sorry, that sounds rough. If you need more time, just let me know. Actually, I was calling to see if you had time to do a job. Off the books."
I sit up straight. My boss is a straight arrow type, most of the time. Of course some of the stuff I overheard on our last job has proven that he has secrets just like everyone else. "What's the job?"
"Kay has a friend who's being harassed by her boss. I just wanted you to look in on her. Make sure she's okay. Bust a few heads if you have to but I'd rather you keep your hands clean if possible."
"Who's the friend?" I can hear the edge in my voice as I ask the question.