Dirty Deeds (Get Dirty 3)

I’ve agreed, but only partially, and Jeanine definitely catches the difference. Her face goes hard, a mask of iron determination. “Maggie, my dear. Are you a waitress or are you a reporter? Because it sounds as though you’re turning down a sure-bet reporting assignment to sling beer to drool-mouthed drunks. If you’d rather wait tables, by all means, feel free to do so. However, if you’d like to be a reporter, I’ll need you at Club Noir all night in case Jimmy Keys shows up.”

The threat is obvious, and while I only took the waitressing job as a means to get sordid stories, it is a big part of my life now. I have friends who work there, and the money is great. Dominick is tough, but he’s a good boss, and I won’t lose the waitressing job for calling out on one shift.

But missing this assignment from Jeanine will definitely cost me the reporting gig, so with a sigh of resolve, I plaster a saccharine-sweet smile on my face. “Of course, I want to be a reporter, Jeanine,” I reply, while inwardly wondering if working for this gossip rag can really be called reporting. “I’ll get my shift covered so I can be at the club well before the target arrives and will have a story submitted by tomorrow.”

Jeanine doesn’t compliment me, just smiles shrewdly, knowing her intimidation worked and I’m solidly ensconced in my place once again. ‘My place,’ of course is at least one notch lower than her, as everyone in the office has quickly learned that Jeanine carries her job with a superiority like a cape that swishes along behind her like a pissed off queen. And everyone knows that in her right hand is her scepter, which she’ll beat over your head if you push her far enough.

She doesn’t even bother answering as she turns back to her computer, just waving me off as her attention goes back to whatever it is that she’s focusing on now that her favorite little petite social wallflower knows what to do.

Summarily dismissed, I head out to my desk, digging my phone out of my purse. I think and text one of the other girls at the club. She’s a dancer, but considering she’s new and nowhere near as good as Allie, her paychecks could use the help.

Hey, Sarah, can you cover my shift tonight, please? Last-minute thing came up.

She replies quickly, happy to cover.

Sure! I’d love a bonus Friday shift.

Thanks! I owe you one. Anytime you need me.

With a sigh, I set my phone back down and get to work, scanning Instagram accounts for celeb news, checking Twitter feeds for vague posts, and although Jeanine would never admit it, searching other tabloid sites for their stories to see if we can do a story better justice. Twice, that’s hit for me, being able to read between the lines and get a juicy tidbit that someone else left behind.

It’s a hard knock life for me.

Chapter 4

Shane

I know it’s not quite professional as I scan the room, but when eight o’clock comes and goes and I don’t see the petite figure of Meghan working the tables, I get worried. I’ve been looking forward to seeing her all day, ever since waking up with her snuggled against me, and to not see her . . . well, it just feels weird.

Especially after we both said we’d see each other tonight. Marco won’t know anything. He sleeps most of the day, and if it wasn’t for his slight tan, I’d swear he’s a vampire, and most of the dancers are the same. Instead, I find Sarah, a newbie dancer who’s wearing a lot more clothing than normal as she carries a pitcher of margaritas through the club. “Hey, where’s Meghan?”

Sarah delivers her pitcher, earning her ‘tip’ with a little flirt and a shake of her curvy hip before giving me a smile. “Oh, I’m covering her shift. She texted saying something came up.”

“I see. What happened?”

Sarah shrugs, already walking away as another table waves for her attention. “I don’t know what though. Sorry.”

I grit my teeth, knowing Meghan was fine when I left this morning. I thought she was even looking forward to seeing me when she came to work, and I’ll admit that I’ve spent a decent amount of time today with some extra pep in my step at the thought. Sure, something innocent could’ve come up, but after the incident last night, I hope she’s okay.

But the question, the doubt creates a tension in my gut that twists and gnaws at me. What’s worse is that I can’t even do anything about it. I’ve got a job to do here, and it’s not like Sarah could cover my job.

“Hey, Shane.”

I look over from my perch by the door to see Marco waving at me. We’re in between dances, so he doesn’t have to yell or use the walkie-talkie system we have. Getting up, I walk over, still keeping my eyes on the patrons. “Yo, Marco.”