I heard voices and my gaze directed to the stairs up to the VIP section. Three women descended while chatting, and I stopped.
“Frankie, come on.” It was Bree. “One Saturday. It’s important.”
“Everything is important to you,” the woman replied. It was the gorgeous woman I’d seen talking to Killian, who I guessed was Frankie, the woman who hired the dancers. “You had last Saturday off.”
“And another in May,” the third girl chirped as she stepped off the last stair.
Bree sneered and shook her head, mimicking her by mouthing the words. I smiled liking Bree immediately. She reminded me a bit of Mars. She didn’t look like she’d take much shit from anyone.
“God, he’s going to have a shit fit,” Bree muttered.
Frankie had her hand on the railing as she turned to look at Bree. “You need to dump that asshole. He’s a useless piece of shit who does nothing but feed off you.”
Bree’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I know. But he’s fun.”
“He’s fun because he’s not stressed. Because he doesn’t work and lives off his girlfriend—you”—Frankie put her hand on Bree’s arm, and her face softened—“kick him to the curb, baby. Then we can go out and celebrate. Drinks will be on me.”
Bree hugged Frankie. When she pulled away, she noticed me standing at the entrance. “Hijack. You showed. Come meet Frankie.” She paused and said halfheartedly, “And Tabitha.”
“Tab,” the other girl corrected.
I walked onto the dance floor, my heels that I was forcing myself to wear every day, clicking over the polished stone floors.
All eyes were on me and my pulse raced as I felt my cheeks flush. It was unnerving to be scrutinized, and it was scrutinized because Frankie was looking me up and down probably deciding whether I looked good enough to dance, while Tab was scrutinizing, no doubt evaluating the possible competition.
“Hey.” I waved when I drew closer. “I’m Savvy.”
Bree skipped over and put her arm around me. “Frankie, this is the girl from Saturday night.”
Frankie approached, and I was a little intimidated, okay, a lot intimidated. When she walked, it was with presence, her shoulders back, chin up, not too much, just enough to let a person know not to fuck with her. This was the kind of woman Killian would totally go for, confident and self-assured just like him.
She held out her hand. “I’m not sure if this is a pleasure or not considering you danced in one of our cages and then snuck out on Greg.”
I had debated a million times over whether to come, but I had nothing to lose. At least by showing up, there was a chance I had the job. “I’m so sorry.” I didn’t want to lie and tell them about Killian, so I avoided. “I know I broke a club rule, but I just wanted a chance. A piece of paper doesn’t show what I can do.”
“Club rules aren’t to be broken—ever. Got it?” Frankie said, frowning.
I swallowed, nodding.
Bree laughed. “Don’t worry. You’re not getting arrested or banned from the club or anything. Frankie just likes being a hard-ass. Besides, Brett wouldn’t allow it. He deals with his own shit. The only time he would let the police in the club is if there was a murder, and that wouldn’t happen because…” She shrugged. “Well, you just wouldn’t do that shit in Compass. It’s why I like working here. Safest club in the city.”
“Did Mr. Westhill see me dance?” I asked tentatively.
“Call him Brett, he prefers it,” Frankie said. “And yes, briefly. You’re good but too technical for this place.”
My heart pounded as panic set in. Shit, I couldn’t lose this opportunity. I had the landlord knocking on my door this morning while I’d hid under the covers pretending I wasn’t there. It was Trevor who’d saved me. I’d heard him in the hall telling the landlord I’d gone out of town for a few days.
I’d invited Trevor over for breakfast after the landlord was gone.
“I can do better. It was my first time and I was nervous.”
Frankie walked toward the bar. “There is no room for nerves on the floor. And I have a thousand girls who’ve applied and can dance like you did.”
I rushed after her. “Yes, but not a girl who wants the job as bad as me.” I stopped a few feet away from her as she typed something on her laptop that sat open on the bar top. “I really want the job. I need the job. Please.”
Frankie shut the lid of her laptop and swiveled around on the barstool. “Why?”
I went with complete honesty; Frankie seemed like she respected direct. “My ex cheated on me six months ago. I had to move out and quit my job because he was my boss.” I heard Tab snort behind me. “He spread nasty rumors about me and now I can’t get a job teaching dance. I haven’t worked in months, and I need to dance. I want to dance.”