And failed.
“I need you to dance.”
Oh shit.
“Uh, Smithie—”
He cut me off. “The waitresses don’t often go backstage. Whatever’s happening is happening back there. Bouncers will go back, provide presence, protection or so they can walk the girls to their cars. I usually ask another one to do that shit, but he comes up on rotation ‘cause I gotta be careful not to single him out and give him shit that he can give me shit about.”
“I don’t dance,” I told him.
“Daisy’ll teach you.”
She would. She’d taught Lottie, Jet’s sister, Smithie’s headliner, and the premier stripper in the western half of the United States (not kidding).
Shit!
“We have another problem, and that is that I’m a regular there so your guy has probably seen me. He’ll know my name, particularly my last one, and he might figure out what’s going on,” I shared.
“I already got that covered, seein’ as I been hearin’ about what you do from Darius and I been thinkin’ about talkin’ to you,” Smithie replied. “So I set it around that you got your apartment exploded and lost your job. You need money, and it ain’t like you got judgment on the girls for what they do since twice a month your ass is at a table by the stage cheerin’ them on. All ‘a them are where they are ‘cause they got in tight places. No doubt about it, you’re in a tight place. Not one a’ them will blink, your ass hits my stage.”
He had it all covered.
Crap.
I drew in a breath, sat back and grabbed my mug to take a sip, my eyes on Smithie, my mind whirling.
On the one hand, this sounded like a juicy case the likes I would not hesitate sinking my teeth into (if it did not require me taking my clothes off in front of an audience). On that same hand, Smithie was in the posse; he meant something to me and he cared about his girls. He wanted them protected, he was worried about them, was powerless, and I knew this was likely striking deep. So I wanted to help him.
On the other hand, this job required me taking my clothes off in front of an audience.
Well, at least this gave me one good reason that I ended things with Ren the day before. If we were together and he heard about this, he would lock me in his bedroom and not let me out until I was his pregnant love slave.
That might seem overkill, but trust me, with this, it wasn’t. Love slave wouldn’t be enough. Pregnant wouldn’t be enough. Both of these would mean I was tied to him in a way I couldn’t come untied, and therefore both would be the only acceptable requirements for release.
Then he’d probably ask a priest to marry us there, standing by his bed with its wine-colored sheets, me wearing a cream nightie.
Then he’d let me out.
Alas, at that moment, all of this seemed good to me.
Ugh.
So it was decided.
“Right, I’ll take on the job,” I told Smithie. “I’ll dance, but only if it’s up to me if I go all out with that in a top off kind of way. Your girls and customers will have to deal if I go with keeping on the bra. It might be I’ll rise to the occasion or the stripper vibe will carry me away and I’ll go all in. But right now, that’s freaking me, so you’re going to have to ride that with me.”
“Done,” Smithie immediately agreed, and that was when I knew how deep this was striking.
He was way worried.
“I have to be all about Ava the next couple of days, Smithie. But soon as I can, I’ll work with Daisy. I’ll also set Brody on an electronic search, Darius on looking into things. I’ll need a name, address and social and if you got it, car info, including the plates,” I told him.
“You’ll get it within an hour,” he told me.
I looked to Daisy to see her making her way to the table balancing three plates up one arm with the other hand carrying a bottle of syrup.
I looked back at Smithie, “You need to set up an account with Daisy. She’ll discuss rates and payment information.”
Daisy gave me a huge smile, set the syrup down and placed a plate in front of me.
“Done,” Smithie muttered, his eyes on the plate she was setting in front of him.
But it was then, it hit me.
And it hit me hard in a good way that at that moment in my life I really needed.
This wasn’t happening.
It had happened.
I had my first official client.
I was an investigator.
I grinned down at my plate and picked up the fork and knife Daisy put there.
“I’ll get the butter,” she murmured and I looked up to her to see her moving away.
