Protect Me (Broken Heroes 2)

“Yes,” I giggle. “No offense, but I’ve never seen you in anything besides super revealing clothing, so I just didn’t know what you would choose.”

“Hon, I work in a strip club. Revealing clothing is our uniform. That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to dress for a dinner party.” She winks at me, and for the first time, I wonder why she’s working here. Does she like it? How does she know Damon? I think about asking, but then decide against it.

Her business is none of mine, and with the shit storm called my life, the last thing I need to be doing is questioning someone else’s choices.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.” I feel ashamed for judging her—when clearly my own life is in shambles.

“No, don’t be, honey. It’s okay to be curious and question things, but I only dress this way for the tips. The more revealing the clothing, the better the tips. Now, enough about me, why don’t you let me put this beauty on you.”

She holds the dark green ombre dress in front of me so I can step into it easily. She zips it up like she’s been doing this her whole life, and I run my fingers against the material. It’s soft and clings to my curves. It doesn’t show any cleavage, but it highlights the shape of my breasts, and the collar falls over my shoulders. It fits like a glove—even though I never told Damon my size.

Taking a step forward, I look in the mirror, realizing how far the slit on the side hikes up, revealing a lot more leg than I’m used to. It’s sexy, but not overly—plus, it suits the design and adds to its beauty.

My thoughts turn to Damon. I think he will appreciate this dress. After all the things he said to me in his office, I want to be any and everything for him.

“You look beautiful, Keira.” Candy smiles at my reflection in the mirror. “Now, sit down over there so I can do your hair and makeup.”

I tense. Makeup and hair. Oh god, it’s a dinner, not a party, right?

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to go crazy. No stage makeup for you, just something simple and natural. A little mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow. That should do the job,” Candy reassures me, and I really hope she knows how much this means to me.

“Thank you. Seriously, thank you for being so nice to me.” I take a seat in one of the makeup chairs, and Candy starts working on my face. I close my eyes as she starts to apply powder with a large brush, then the eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.

“There you go. Just some blush so you don’t look so pale, and your makeup is all done.”

I swivel in my chair so I can look at myself in the vanity mirror. My mouth pops open, and the words I want to say are there, but they just won’t come. I almost can’t believe my eyes. She only used a few items, but I look so much different. Like an entirely new person.

“I’m glad you like it.” Candy chuckles. “Now, let’s get these curlers out of your hair and you’ll be all done, Cinderella.”

Just as she removes the last roller, the door to the dressing room opens. A string of high-pitched giggles fill the room. My stomach knots. Not only do I have to face the possibility of death tonight, now I have to face Damon’s strippers.

I avert my eyes to the floor, and let Candy finish my hair.

“Oh my, look who it is, girls? Are you finally starting to work the stage, or are you going straight to the backroom for blowjob duty?” Hayley asks me with her nose in the air. She has bitch written all over her face, and suddenly, I realize why I left high school.

The girls flanking her must be part of her bitch-squad because they look down at me the same way.

“Just shut up and get ready for work,” Candy snaps, but it’s apparent Hayley doesn’t care what Candy says. She blows past her and steps directly in front of me.

“You know you’re just some temporary toy to Damon, right? He is going to throw you in the trash as soon as he gets bored playing with you.”

Each word stabs me like a knife straight to the heart.

“He’s had a lot of girls, but he always comes back to me.” Her pink-painted lips twitch into an evil smile. “He’s been doing it for over a year. I’ve been his one and only, and to this day, I’m the only one who knows how he likes it.” She keeps talking, and each statement twists the knife deeper and deeper.

“You will never satisfy him like I do—hell, like any other woman.” Her eyes move over my body. “You’re garbage compared to us.” She all but spits, and she may as well have slapped me across the face. I’m sure it would’ve hurt a lot less.