Chapter 2

It was a beautiful Saturday morning and I didn’t want to spend it cooped up in the house avoiding my mom, so I’d made my way over to Jaida’s. I’d gone to show her my hair and tell her about the fight, but before I could, she’d blurted out that she wasn’t at school because they were moving. I waited for her to say more, but the move wasn’t her concern.

“You look prettier, more mature; you could definitely pass for 21 now. When I come to visit we could sneak into some bars and see if they serve us,” she grinned.

“You’re leaving me?”

“Next Friday.”

I finally took notice of the boxes and packing supplies littered everywhere. “What am I going to do when you’re gone? Kristen and her goons jumped me yesterday.”

“I’ll fucking kill them!”

She had anger management issues. I had them too. I just knew how to channel mine. Jaida was more violent with hers. Her first instinct is to fight and curse. I hate cursing.

“It’s nothing, Jay. I actually got in some pretty good hits.”

“That means they’ll come back for more, you can’t let them see your weakness.”

“I wasn’t worried about them. Where will I go when my mom starts acting crazy?”

“Promise me you won’t let them bully you? They come at you, you better fight!”

“Okay.” I nodded for emphasis.

“Come on, we need a plan,” she declared before grabbing my hand and leading me upstairs.

***

The next two months went by in a blur. I got a job as a waitress at a local restaurant, but the money is nowhere near what I needed. Financial aid wouldn’t be enough and I didn’t want to be stuck paying off student loans forever. I guess that was why I’d been to four different strip clubs trying to get hired as a dancer. One of the owners said that with my looks and body I should consider more than dancing. Not an option. Another said I had to perform for him personally for a month before I could make my way onto the stage. Nope. Jay used to strip twice a week. Not that she needed the money or anything. She did it for the thrill and to see how long she could get away with doing it while underaged. When I told her I was going to try it out she protested.

“You’re not cut out for that, Mak. They’ll eat you alive.”

Maybe she was right. I was headed inside the fifth club of the day and didn’t have high hopes. I looked around and saw a guy sitting behind the bar. He glanced up at me as I walked in, but looked back down at the papers on the bar. Obviously, I posed no threat to him because he didn’t look up again until I was close enough to speak. “Excuse me? Could you help me out?”

What happened next confused me. My throat went dry, I forget how to speak, and my stomach filled with butterflies. He was beautiful. Wait, could men be beautiful? Handsome would be an understatement. This guy looked like he inspired poetry. Or maybe turned friends to enemies with fights over him.

Brows dipped in annoyance, he asked, “What you need?”

Hearing his voice made him that much harder to take in. He had a voice that made you want to make him speak, said anything, just to hear it on a constant basis. His scowl made him look dangerous…sexy. I felt like I should’ve been scared, but he stopped frowning and smirked. I struggled to find my voice as he got up and walked to me. I had to tilt my head back as he got closer. How tall was he??

“Where you trying to go?”

            Of course, I would turn into a mute right now. Did I expect anything more of myself? I’d never seen anyone as attractive as him. His skin was dark, much darker than mine, but his eyes were a weird mixture of green and something else, maybe brown. Color didn’t matter though, they were stunning. I got lost in them and before I knew it he was standing directly in front of me.

“You okay?”

His scent wrapped around me and my knees wobbled. He was absolutely lethal without even trying. I stared up at him—a feat since I was 5”9’ and wearing three-inch heels­— and tried to find my voice. I finally manage to croak out, “I’m fine.”

He smiled and I felt faint. If it were physically possible, I’d melt.

“Then what you need?”

“I’m looking for Kalil.” I glanced down at the paper in my hand to make sure I said the right name.

His gaze roamed over me, briefly lingering on my hips, before he walked away. “Who sent you here?”

“Blue,” I answered. She’d been nice enough in the last club, but when she’d chased me down outside she’d been filled with attitude as she gave me this club and his name.

“Why?”

“I need a job. She said to tell him to cash in the favor he owed her.”

“A job doing what?”

He was scowling again and I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not. The obvious answer would be dancing, but he seemed to be genuinely confused. I decide to be offended. “Well this is a strip club, isn’t it?”

“How old are you?”

“21.”

He stares at me in silence then sat on one of the bar stools. “Bullshit, your real age.”

“21.” I reached into my purse and pulled out my sister’s ID. I’d kept it since she left two weeks after my dad died. I’d never felt the need to use it until now. He held his hand out and I slowly walked to him and handed it over. He stared at it for a few seconds then looked at me.

“This could be fake, Riley.”

“It could be real,” I countered.

He stared at me again. His eyes bore through me, as though he could see all of my lies. He’d said Riley’s name like he knew it wasn’t mine and he watched me like he waited for me to slip up. I took the ID back and stepped away hoping it would make his gaze less penetrating. It didn’t.

“Are you Kalil?”

“You ever danced before?”

I exhaled heavily. No one liked repeating themselves and he wouldn’t answer my question. I refused to answer his questions until I knew who I was speaking to. He raised a brow and waited for an answer. His freaking right brow! No matter how hard I tried I could only ever lift my left brow like that.

 “Yes, now are you Kalil?” I left out the fact that it’d been years since I’d had an audience. Alone in my bedroom counted, right?

“Show me.”

            “Right now?”

            He nodded once and leaned back resting his elbows along the bar top and spreading his legs as he stretched them out. Man-splaying at its finest. He looked absolutely delicious, a king surveying his kingdom. Except those jade eyes were trained on me and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be his kingdom. It wasn’t until that moment that I considered that I was here alone with him and he could do anything he wanted before I made it to the exit. No one would know.

Nerves finally appropriately rattled, I asked again, “Are you Kalil?”

“Sure, now show me.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Doesn’t matter, all dancers audition, so show me.”

“I’ll only dance for Kalil.” I wondered how much longer I could stall. He smiled again before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a wallet. That smile could render me dumb. He held up his driver’s license, but made no move to pass it to me. If I wanted to see if he was Kalil, I’d have to move closer and while a part of me was all over that another part understood that there was a chance he didn’t just look dangerous. Steeling myself, I moved forward and plucked it from his fingertips. His eyes tracked my every move and another smirk crossed his face when I stepped away in order to look at the license.

“24 years old, 6’7” tall, 267 lbs., and you are indeed Kalil.”

I huffed out a breath then quickly passed it back to him. “There’s no music.”

“So?”

He got up and went behind the bar. I watched in silence as he poured a shot of amber liquor and slid it to me.

“On the house.”

“I don’t drink.”

“So you’re shy and you don’t drink, two reasons for you to not be here talking to me about being a dancer,” he said before tossing back the shot.

“I don’t have to be a drinker to be a dancer.” I was losing money and I hadn’t even started earning it yet.

“Sometimes it helps.”

We stared at each other in silence until he came from behind the bar. My instincts told me to back away, but I wanted to smell him again. I needed to have him invading my personal space. This need was foreign to me and I frowned trying to figure out where it came from. He stopped. Dang it. I could smell him though. His scent intoxicated me.

“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You can work the bar and the tables. We open at nine and close at two. You keep your tips and start at $10 per hour.”

“I didn’t come here to be a barmaid, I can do that anywhere.” I take a step forward. I still need him closer to me. He didn’t expect this. It stunned him and surprisingly he takes a step back. We both frowned. Was I just rejected?

“Could you?” he questioned, that right brow lifted again.

He’d regained his composure, but I continued to glare. I also fought the urge to touch him. He couldn’t be real, right?

“You wouldn’t get the same tips anywhere else and you wouldn’t even get hired anywhere else. You have to be 21 to serve alcohol.”

He smiled, waiting to catch me in a lie. I’d play his games though. I smiled back. He glared.

“You saw my ID. I want to dance and last time I checked the legal age to be a dancer was 18.” I boldly stepped up to him, closing the gap between us. If I got any closer, he’d feel the unnaturally rapid beat of my heart and the diamond tips of my nipples. I had no idea who I was right now. I’d never been this responsive to anyone before.

“When you’re really ready to dance, you can audition.”

I lost my bravado and reluctantly backed away. He sat back on the bar stool, waiting for me to respond. His smug look told me he knew he’d won this round.

“Do I need a uniform?”

“Denim shorts or skirt, your choice, mid-thigh or shorter. Black button up, top three buttons undone. Black shoes—heels, pumps, open toe, peep toe, wedges—whatever you want to call them. No flats unless you’re on break.”

“When do I start?” I had to have my mom’s car back to her in three hours and my house was two hours away from this club.

“Tomorrow.”

“Do I need to fill out any paperwork?”

Both brows lifted this time.

“You trying to get me locked up?”

That meant my money would be tax free. It also meant he definitely knew I wasn’t not 21, but I wasn’t about to point it out. For whatever reason, he’d hired me and I was going with it. “Anything else?”

His eyes narrowed and he asked, “Are you even legal enough to be a dancer?”

I was momentarily silenced by the intensity of his gaze. Those eyes would be the death of me. “Plus three,” I finally answered.

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile.

“You need a name tag. Would you like for me to put Riley on it?”

Bastard.

“Can you make it a stage name?”

“If you tell me your real name. I think I at least deserve that.”

He waited for me to answer him, but I didn’t.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, come early. Ask for Cari, she’ll show you around.” He grabbed the papers he was looking at when I walked in and starts walking towards an opening at the very back of the club.

“Makynzee.”

“Did that kill you?” he called over his shoulder.

Instead of responding I turned and left. Was I really just hired as a barmaid in a strip club?