I waited a beat, but Charl didn’t latch onto my bait.
“You’re not going to say anything?” I pressed.
“What do you want me to say, Corinne?” I imagined him pacing up and down, his auburn hair standing on end. “The rules are there for your safety, but you’re a big girl, so if you choose to break them, then that’s at your own discretion.”
I stewed silently.
“Are you saying that if something happened to me, then the Club wouldn’t have swooped in because I broke the rules using my discretion?”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Charl seethed, “and you seem awfully defensive about everything all of a sudden, I don’t suppose this sudden change has anything to do with your future plans?”
He allowed the question to hang in the air, and like a coward, I refused to answer. We always knew that this may be a possibility, that the Club could never be a long term venture for me.
“Where am I supposed to be meeting them tonight?” I asked instead.
I could feel his grin through the line and groaned, “What aren’t you telling me?”
He laughed outright, “I wish I could see your expression for myself. You’ve been invited to a burlesque show.”
Great, I had to sit through dinner with Dimitri and his grandfather as they ogled women on stage. Because that wasn’t pervy at all. How I was supposed to make a good impression in this environment, hell only knew.
“And,” Charl continued.
“Wait,” I barked, “how can there possibly be more?”
In fairness, I think he tried to suppress his chuckle. He was enjoying my discomfort far too much. He probably viewed it as payback for not speaking to him about my father’s offer, and the offer he undoubtedly expected me to accept.
“You may need to do a reading for the old guy.”
I allowed that nugget of information to sink in.
“In a strip club?” I demanded. “How the hell do you expect me to concentrate?”
“Look, just make the best of it okay?” I heard some noise in the background and Charl quickly ended the call with, “I’ve got to go.”
That was our leader and captain for you - he was a sink or swim kind of guy, only this time he had thrown me to the sharks.
A burlesque club of all places. I grabbed my phone and texted her, hoping that she would find amusement in my situation.
Corinne: The Lord has requested that I conduct a reading in a burlesque club, of all places.
Max had unashamedly worked in a string of strip clubs and bars, racking up dollars wherever she could. We all knew that her home situation was shit, but she wouldn’t accept help or ‘handouts’ from anyone. It would be so easy for me to help her, but she still won’t hear anything about it. It also doesn’t help that she changes jobs, bank accounts, and addresses with a frequency that will leave anyone’s mind whirling, which only made it impossible to simply transfer funds into her account and say there you go. I even got my personal banker involved, but she couldn’t help me either, and Charl was absolutely useless in this situation. I couldn’t decide if he was simply too self absorbed or simply didn’t care, because all he said when I asked him for her information was, “You know, Corinne, if she’s not readily giving out that info, she doesn’t want the help.”
Damn him.
Max: Rule number one: Look appealing. Even if you botch the reading because of the environment, it won’t matter because they’ll be looking at your tits.
I grinned at her honesty.
Max: Wait, you are reading for men, right? My guys are usually the old douchy kind who are more interested in my chest than my cards, so I charge them double.
My fingers are moving of their own accord as I type out a reply before registering what I’m actually telling her.
Corinne: One old guy, one young and arrogant.
Max: Hot, young, and arrogant - or just an ass?
She is the only person I know who would ask this. Charl was too focussed on the reading and business side of things, but Max, well she got men. Like really got them. If someone pissed her off enough she’d fuck them, play with their psyche, and hex them all on the same day.