Hours later, I can hear my heels clicking against the pavement as I adjust my skirt before pulling open the door to the club. As I walk in, I see Carter waving at me with enthusiasm. After only a few days, I already love him.
“Hey, love. How was your day?”
“Oh . . . just great, if you enjoy being woken up at the butt crack of dawn in the morning.”
“Well, I would flip that frown upside down and put on your biggest smile. Boss man wants to see you in his office.” His lip turns up as he winks.
Shit.
“Do you have any idea what he wants?” I ask, while internally freaking out.
“Nope, and even if I do . . .” He trails off, adding a wink for emphasis. “I’m not at liberty to disclose. He gives the orders, and I don’t question him.”
I watch Carter closely, but he gives nothing away. “Does he do that often?”
“Nope.”
“I’m not getting any more than that from you, am I?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head slowly.
“Ugh. You’re a pain in my ass,” I say, throwing my head back in exasperation.
“Yes, and you’ll have a bigger pain in your ass when my size twelve shoe meets it if you don’t get moving. Go,” he says, shooing me with his hands.
Carter unknowingly has my nerves calmed and my mind off what is waiting for me in that office. If nothing else good comes from working here at Silver, meeting Carter made it all worth it. I smile and head toward Drew, ready to get this meeting or whatever it is over with.
9
Drew
“Why, Drew? I just don’t get it! We could be good together,” Monica whines in her most annoying valley girl voice. And she wonders why I don’t take her seriously.
I groan, running my hands down my face.
“Monica, can’t you see I’m a little busy here?” I shuffle the invoices I was attempting to pay, hoping she’ll get the point that this conversation is done. “Get out.”
No such luck.
“You—”
She’s cut off by a knock on the door. “Come in,” I call out.
Bailey walks in, looking a bit awkward. It’s cute. “Um, Carter said you wanted to see me?” She rocks back and forth on her toes, looking very uncomfortable.
“Yes, come in, Bailey. We were just finishing up here.”
“This talk is just getting started,” Monica says in her most saccharine voice. She looks at Bailey, offering a small smile laced with venom before she stalks out. She probably thinks Bailey is my new conquest. That’s what I get for fucking with the help.
I have to start having a bouncer monitor who’s allowed up here.
Bailey stands just inside the door, wringing her hands together. She actually looks a bit annoyed, which is funny to me. “Am I keeping you from something, Miss . . .” I let that hang out there. Of course, I know her name.
“Jameson. My last name is Jameson, Mr. Lawson.” Her tiny voice belies the strength she tries to exude, and I decide to have a little fun at Miss Jameson’s expense.
“Drew. There is no ‘Mr. Lawson’ here.”
She doesn’t say a word, only nods in answer.
“Bailey? Do you understand? Use your words.” I’m a condescending asshole.
“Yeah . . . Yes, I understand,” she says, clearly confused and utterly petrified.
“How is Carter doing with your training?”
She tilts her head to the side, studying me. “How’s my training?”
“That’s what I asked.” Her eyes are narrowed, not answering me. “Back to the reason you’re here. I’ll be shadowing you tonight, and I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m trying to get a better feel for our current training program and how my employees interact with our guests. I’ve recently noticed some issues with blurring the lines between flirting and inappropriateness.”
She blanches. “From me?”
“No,” I correct. “I’m shadowing you because you’re new and utilizing that time to monitor the others’ interactions.”
Her shoulders relax, and the horrified expression melts away.
“While I shadow you, you’ll be training for bottle service. I need another person because we’ll likely be losing someone soon.”
Monica will have to go if she continues showing up in my office and begging me to take her. It’s becoming a real problem. Training Bailey is imperative to have her ready, just in case I’m forced to fire her. It also helps me keep an eye on Reese. He’s been frequenting the place more often these days, and something tells me it’s all about the girl in front of me.
“Wow. That’s . . . awesome.” She smiles. “I thought it would take months before that was a possibility.”
It typically would. Bottle service for the VIP rooms is a coveted position. The money is easily tenfold what she’s currently making on the high-top tables and the lounge booths. The girls who work the VIP rooms typically leave with three to four grand in their pockets. Second only to the bartenders.