I can’t help but smile. There’s something about her. I lean forward and grab a pen from Derrick’s desk clicking the end on and off.
“I’ll be honest, sweetheart. What I saw out there was incredible.” Her face brightens as a small smile graces her berry-stained lips.
“Really? I thought you hated it.” Her delicate hand goes to her neck. “Does this mean I have the job?” She smiles, and Jesus Christ, it changes her whole persona. If she was beautiful before, she’s exquisite when she smiles.
“What’s your name?”
“Candy.” She puffs out air, her hand going to check her tight bun.
“Candy? You’re a terrible liar.” I toss the pen and lean back in the chair.
“Excuse me?” She sounds aggravated, which makes me grin.
“Before you were Cookie. Now you’re Candy? How about we start with your real name.”
“What’s your real name?” she fires right back yet frowns as if she’s only now realized she’s mouthing off to the one person she needs.
“Mitchell,” I state. Her eyes bolt to mine. “But no one calls me that besides my sister.”
“I thought we were supposed to have stage names.” She bites her bottom lip.
“You can. But, I want to know your real name. You asked me mine, and I told you.” I cock my head at her, interested in what she’s gonna do.
“So, if I tell you the truth, I get the job?”
“No.” I sit up, done with her. She wants to play games? Negotiate? Not gonna happen.
“Thanks for taking an interest in the Pussycat, but we are definitely going in a different direction.” Her expression makes her look like I just kicked her dog. Christ, why did Edge have to do this to me? He’s way better at dealing with the girls.
“Can I at least have two minutes of your time? I don’t think that’s too much to ask.” She gazes down at the desk, which I have in perfect order. I have a certain way I like things to look and run, so the first thing I did was rearrange Derrick’s desk.
“Darlin’—”
“Don’t call me that,” she says, her voice tight, and my lips twitch at her fucking gall. Standing, I walk around the edge of the desk so I can lean on it.
“Sorry. First impressions aren’t my strong suit.” It’s as if people have told her that so many times she simply blurts it out without thinking.
For a moment I remain silent, then level my gaze at her. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
She shakes her head. “I’m assuming you’re in a gang called the Disciples.” Her hands gesture to my cut.
The room crackles with sexual energy. “It’s a motorcycle club.” My tone must alert her that she fucked up because she looks down at her ballet slippers, which are worn at the tips.
“God.” She looks at the ceiling and back at me. “I’m messing this all up. I came in here to ask for another chance to convince you I have what it takes.”
I push off the desk and move in front of her. “You don’t. Thanks for coming. I—”
“Antoinette.”
She throws her hands up. “That’s my real name… but I would prefer Candy.”
“Again, Cookie, you don’t have what it takes. I don’t want to be a dick, but someone needs to tell you the truth. You have no tits. Your body looks like it needs ten pounds of pasta. And you don’t want to take off your clothes. Which is a necessity here. We’re full nude.” I say all this waiting for her to start crying or screaming and leave. But she stands firm.
She faces me, her chest heaving. A pink flush spreads up to her neck. But her head is high, her shoulders are back, and her eyes are clear. I blink at her. Who is this woman?
“I deserve a chance to prove to you that I will not only be a huge asset, I’ll be your best stripper. No tits and all.” She spits out the last part.
Fierce comes to mind. She’s like a fierce, mythical princess. God damn that Ripper and this particular blend of Plain Jane. It has to be the weed that’s making me respond this way. That’s the only reason I would move closer to her. She’s dangerous. Her unique vanilla-citrus scent seems to be my weakness, like kryptonite was to Superman.
Christ.
“You seriously think you can handle scumbags who want to touch you, scream at you, jerk off to you? Because that’s what happens.”
Her eyes narrow. “One hundred percent.”
I cock my head, and our eyes lock. She’s determined; I’ll give her that. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Cookie.”
“Candy.”
I pull the chair out from the corner and sit. “Make me feel like I’m the only man in the world. You do that, the job is yours.” Stretching my arms behind my head, I wait for her to make her next move. Absently, I think this is the first time in years someone has me not quite sure what to expect.