For your regular married guy, who doesn’t want his wife to know, it’s bad enough.
For a celebrity like Dawson, it could probably end his career. Even if he gets the girls locked up, the damage will be done.
In this case it’s even more complicated because this is my fault. I brought him into my club’s place, thinking they’d respect that he was my guest.
“What was the fucking plan?” I ask just to be clear.
“Michelle said he’d wake up in a little while with a headache and fuzzy memory. We’d tell him he must’ve had too much to drink, give him a lap dance, make sure he signed his credit card tab, and send him on his way.”
“Shit. Fuck.” Digger pulls me aside. “I got a call from one of the credit card companies earlier this week. Several customers disputed their bills in the last few months. Figured it was just clients who had buyer’s remorse and were trying to get out of paying.”
I lift my chin at Presley. “How long they been running this scam?”
“I don’t know.” Her pleading eyes land on Digger but he won’t look at her. “I haven’t worked here that long. Michelle and Josh have always been tight though. The girls all gossip about it. Said they were probably fucking.”
Digger nods. “She’s new.”
“Where’s his stuff?” I ask Presley.
“In here.” She reaches into the black ottoman that she’d opened earlier, pulling out a thick wad of cash, a cell phone, and some rings.
Digger glares at her and she hurries over to Dawson so fast she almost slips in the pile of puke on the floor. He lifts his head and stares at her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Roads.” She holds out her hands overflowing with the shit they jacked off him.
He plucks the rings out of her hands first and slips them on. “That’s not mine,” he says, tapping the bracelet.
“Jesus Christ,” Digger mutters.
Dawson checks the cell phone before stuffing it in his pocket. He takes the cash and counts it quickly, pulling off a couple hundreds and handing them to Presley.
“I reckon that’ll cover the part of the evening I did enjoy,” he says to her with a smile.
All things considered, it’s a classy move. Can’t say I’d do the same in his boots.
Digger tucks his revolver away. “Go home, Presley, and wait for me to stop by. You try running, and I will hunt you the fuck down. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
He stops her at the door. “Do not talk to anyone else in this club. Go to the dressing room, collect your shit, and go home. Understood?”
“Wait, let me have Pants walk her out.” I send him a quick text. “Go over to our table and ask for Pants,” I tell her. “He knows you’re coming. He’ll walk you out so no one bothers you.”
“All right.”
After she leaves, Digger cocks his head.
“You don’t know for sure some of the other girls aren’t involved.”
“Good point. Thanks, brother.” He slaps my shoulder.
Dawson groans as he stands. “I’m gonna take my sorry ass back to our table and let you gentlemen speak.”
“Mr. Roads, I apologize profusely,” Digger says, groveling a little harder than I expected. Good. “This isn’t how I run my establishment.”
“Shit happens. Ain’t easy to find good help these days. I know that better than anyone.” Dawson flips his wallet open. “I am still missing a black AmEx card, though. Your guy, Josh, took it before he allowed me back here.”
“I’ll get it,” Digger promises. “I’ll make sure all the charges are reversed too.”
“Appreciate it.” He nods to me. “Rooster.”
“Dawson.” Fuck me. If Shelby’s gonna stay on this tour, I see a whole lot of groveling in my future.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Rooster
Now that we’re alone, I feel free to lay into Digger.
“Brother, you’ve got a serious problem here. If the credit card companies are already onto this, it’s only a matter of time before the FBI is knocking on your door. And you know how Priest’s gonna react to that.”
“I need to get ahead of it.”
“No shit. This Josh, how much does he know about stuff that goes on here?”
“Rooster,” he says in a mildly impatient tone. “I realize this fiasco might give the impression that I’m sloppy, but I don’t share club business with civilians. Ever.”
“Easy, I wasn’t saying you did.” Not quite, anyway. “Listen, I think if you want to keep the club out of it, you’re gonna have to turn one of them over and let them hang for the theft charges. Whoever you think won’t have anything to rat to the cops about.”
“Skyler. She hasn’t worked here that long.”
Neither of us say it, but Josh and Michelle probably have dirt naps in their future. But that’s Digger’s problem, not mine.
“Now, I gotta deal with this fuckin’ mess and hope my old lady doesn’t get kicked off her tour.” I pin him with a hard stare. “I brought my friends here thinking since my club owned the place, they’d be safe.”