Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“Amateur night is the best.” Rav cackles with evil glee. “Girls are like timid deer. And someone always wears something without Velcro and gets stuck in their clothes on stage.”
“You’re a psycho.”
“What? It’s cute.”
“Bullshit,” I snort. “Half the time we don’t even get amateurs. It’s pros from other clubs trying to scope us out.” At least that’s how it was ten or twelve years ago.
“Bro, there are no other clubs around. We’re the last one standing for like a hundred miles.”
“Whatever.” My strip club days are so far behind me, I couldn’t care less.
I sweep my gaze over the customers again. Handsy seems to be taking our threats seriously.
Loud chatter from the hallway draws my eyes that way again. Just more wannabe strippers crowding inside.
There’s something familiar about one short, extra-curvy girl with long black hair so dark it has to be dyed. Chunks of hair dyed pink and red match her pink panties and red lace dress.
“Oh,” Rav groans. “Now those are some amazing pillow thighs.”
“Pillow what?” I mutter, studying the girl.
Hell the fuck no. I push through the crowd, frowning at the girl. Praying it’s not who I think it is.
I touch her shoulder and she turns. Her mouth drops open in surprise.
“Bianca, what the fuck are you doing here?” Carter’s little friend doesn’t belong anywhere near this place.
“What are you doing here?” she sasses back.
“Working.”
“You work here?”
“None of your fucking business. Now why are you here?” Why do I even care? She’s Carter’s friend. She’s close to his age, so more than legal. Not my responsibility.
She gestures toward the stage. “I want to try out.”
“Welcome, Bianca.” Ravage slides next to me, oozing sleaze. Of course he remembers her name. “Girls line up in there.” He points to the dressing room. “Did you give Lexi all your info? DJ will announce you one by one.”
Suddenly Rav’s a professional.
Bianca ignores him and fixes her inquisitive eyes on me. As if I’ll dash her dreams of stripper-stardom with one word.
I shrug. “You don’t need my permission.”
She turns but I tap her shoulder, stopping her. “Does Carter know you’re here?”
She jerks away from me. “Carter’s busy.”
That doesn’t answer my question. But it’s not my problem, so I shrug and let her go.
Ravage rubs his hands together like a pervy little bridge troll. “Line up. Get a number. Take your turn on the pole, darlin’,” he encourages.
She flashes a quick smile. “Thanks, Ravage.”
“She remembers my name,” Rav says.
“You’re hard to forget. And not for good reasons.”
“You gonna tell Charlotte?” Rav asks, lifting his chin toward the dressing room.
“I’m sure it’ll come up at some point.”
Rav’s predictions about amateur night come true. A girl gets stuck in her see-through dress thirty seconds into her first song and runs off the stage crying.
A fight breaks out in the dressing room between one of our regular dancers and one of the amateurs.
I need to get things up and running at the funeral home so I have a good excuse to never come here again. The thought makes me snort with laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Rav asks.
“Nothing.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Charlotte
Our beautiful farmhouse has been turned into a busy wedding venue. No matter how simple we said we wanted our wedding to be, the decorations and guest list spiraled out of control.
This morning, Trinity, Serena, and Mercy turned our bedroom into my bridal suit. Marcel was sent packing to Carter’s loft to get ready.
Serena has me perched on a bench in the nook of our bay window where she said she had perfect natural lighting to work with. I can’t help my gaze from straying to all the activity going on outside.
“Look up, Charlotte,” Serena reminds me.
She dabs and pats something cool but sticky all around my eyes. There’s a soft clickety-clack and she snaps open a plastic box full of tiny colorful rhinestones.
“What are you doing to me?”
“Trust the process, Charlotte,” she murmurs, carefully selecting a stone and placing it on the tip of some metal poke-y-looking device.
I close my eyes and let her have her way with my face. I’ve never seen her makeup looking anything less than flawless so hopefully she can recreate the same magic for me.
“Thank you so much, Serena. I know the timing is, uh, precarious.” I nod to her still-dainty baby bump. The woman’s due to give birth soon and somehow managed to maintain her cute, earth mother pregnant silhouette, while I already feel like a circus bear.
“Not yet.” She presses her hand to her stomach. “He’s still got some baking to do. And Gray hasn’t finished the nursery.”
“Yikes. We haven’t even gotten started on a nursery yet.” I glance at our bedroom door. Twins mean we’re going to need more room.
“I hope my brother appreciates all the effort,” Heidi says from the couch where she’s nursing the newest member of the family. “All he’s doing is showering, maybe running a comb through his hair, and getting dressed.”