05

STARLIA

Alison and I walk into the bar, half drunk, giggling about how Kade fell off the table in the last bar we were in. I know I hate Kade half of the time but he's growing on me, he won't admit it either but I've grown on his selfish ass too. When I forget the fact that I'm indebted to him or the things I do to close off that debt, we get along so well.

Rocky slides in front of me, flashing me his hyena teeth. “Starr, my star.”

“Hi, Rocky,” Alison responds before I do, nudging me.

“Hi, Rocks.” I feign excitement.

Rocky grins, “You look radiant, the crowd is lucky to have you grace them with your presence.”

“Wow, Rocks.” Alison cracks up, the praise is very dissimilar to him. “Um, that's not even kissing ass, you're straight up licking it.”

“Right,” I laugh. “what do you want?”

Rocky shrugs, “Nothing,” he tells me, proceeding to throw his arm over my shoulder. “Come with me.”.

“That's not nothing,” I whine, side-eyeing him.

“You caught me,” he nervously chuckles. “there is someone I'd like you to meet.”

“I haven't even clocked in yet and you're working me?” I gasp, throwing his arm off my shoulder. If there was a better club, one that paid better believe me I would be with them because Rocky gets on my fucking nerves.

“Starr, don't think of it like that, I just want to acquaint you with a friend of mine.”

Yeah right, as if I believe that. Anyone who offers him enough money is a friend, one he wouldn't mind selling our souls to. “Pay me,” I roll my eyes, following him to his office. “You're getting paid for it and I want my cut.”

“Starr, am I not your best employer?” he frowns, knowing damn well he is. “I even let you pick your VVVIP rooms.”

“Ugh,” I scoff. “Don't even mention those rooms to me, I'm still about last night.”

“I've told you, Starr. In this business leave Starr at the door and embody Medusa.” He smiles, opening his door.

I nod, he's right. I don't let the creeps he lets in here get to me, so I should put that creep from last night in the last too. I follow Rocky into his office, where a man stands with his back to us, hands in his pocket as he stares at the strippers' performance board. “Mr Moretti, She's here,” Rocky says, overly excited to announce my arrival, he must be getting some big money.

When the Mr Moretti in question turns, so do I. “Hell no,” I mutter to myself, walking away but Rocky grabs me and thrusts me back to my previous spot.

Mr Moretti Is the louse that called me his wife's name, it's a shame a man this handsome is mentally ill.

“Starr,” Rocky warns.

I wave my hands around in a circular motion towards Mr Moretti. “I'm not interested in Whatever this is.”

“He's a friend, be nice,” Rocky whispers, smiling still.

“No,” I firmly decline, I don't want anything to do with this man, that one night of outlandish was enough.

Mr crazy comes forward and introduces himself, seemingly normal when he speaks. “Hi, I'm Adrian. Adrian Moretti.”

I don't shake his hand, I merely stare at it and then lift my gaze to his. His stare is expressionless, he has this blank look in his eyes like most rich people I've met.

“We've met,” I feign a smile. “A very unpleasant encounter if you ask me.”

Mr Moretti nods, he knows it was unpleasant and top five of the eeriest client interactions I've had. “My apologies, I was a little drunk yesterday so I mistook you for someone else.”

Mistook?

That's rich, I had a day-mare because of that incident, he creeped me out, and there was something wrong with his aura, I should know because the psychic in our house discerned a deadly aura on me when I went back home.

“Apology accepted,” I side-eye Rocky. I don't see the point of having me meet him so he can apologise but I guess I'll have to deal with it so we can move on and I never have to see his handsome face again.

He's so handsome, he makes the male strippers we have look like the bottom he barrow, and believe me we have the finest men I've ever seen. “I have a performance in a couple of minutes. I should go.” I motion towards the door.

“No, stay.” Rocky laughs, patting me on the shoulder. I glare at him and he drops his hand, continuing to run his mouth. “Mr Moretti would like to have a word with you.”

Fuck no. I don't have time to feed the creep directly from the cow titt, he can stalk me in silence like the other creeps.

“I have bills to pay, Rocky.” I glare at him, “That don't get paid by me chit-chatting with delusional alcoholics.” I snap, realizing only when Rocky's eyes widen that I just called the man an alcoholic to his face. The delusional part is no secret, but the alcoholic is a rotten assumption on my part.

Mr delusional alcoholic clears his throat, watching me. “How much do you make off your next performance?”

“What?”

“I'll pay you the amount if you stay and chat with me.”

Hmm, okay.

I can play this game, they all act like there's no amount they're unwilling to splurge until I start demanding the big guns and they have to leave me alone and find a cheaper stripper to obsess over. “Roughly around one mil,” I casually say. A damn lie, but it'll get rid of him.

“Done,” Mr Moretti declares, his tone more casual than mine.

“What?” Both Rocky and I gasp, momentarily sharing an aghast look. “I'm kidding,” I confess. “that's how much I earn in over two weeks, especially around this time of the year.”

He shrugs, “I'll pay you the million-dollar amount if you chat with me for a little while.”

“Why?” I frown, still overcome with the immediate yes to giving me one million just to chat. I don't even make that much for sex work, who is this man? How does he have that much money and why am I considering staying with a creepy client?

“Because you intrigue me.” he smiles, flashing me his teeth an been they are perfect, so aligned and utterly white.

“I'll find your replacement!” Rocky blurts out, rushing out before I can deny or accept the offer. I won't walk out with a million, most likely half because Rocky will take some, and Kade too.

I watch as he finds a seat in one of Rocky's chairs, tsking because he doesn't know what has been done on that chair. “Take a seat,” he gestures to the opposite sofa like it's his office.

I overlook the arrogance and take a seat opposite him. He still stares at me with this tense look in his eyes. Like he's looking at a shadow, or worse, an enemy. “What now?” I frown.

“You were much nicer last night.” he points out, an obvious observance.

I shrug, tying my tongue because now I'm alone with a creep and who is to say Rocky didn't sell me to him as a sacrificial lamb? “Um, maybe because I was working.”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You smile at every man that way?”

I shrug. “It's part of the job, what's that they say? Happy customer happy bank?” I frown, wondering if it's an actual saying I said it wrong like I do most things.

Mr Moretti nods, watching me. I just can't picture him as one of Rocky's criminal friends, hell he doesn't even smell like most clients. “If you don't mind me asking, can you tell me a little about yourself?”

Okay, that is something no one has ever asked me before, when they ask that they want to know how many hours it takes me before I get tired from dancing or fucking. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” his lips twitch with a smile.

I gulp, finally creeped out. Maybe he plans on using the information to stalk me, or maybe kill me because like my previous stalker said, pretty girls like me shouldn't exist here. “O-okay, I'm just going to say it.” I stutter, “You're weird, and it's not going to be masked by how good you smell or how handsome you are.”

He smiles, even if that is unsettling. “You think I'm handsome?”

“Rationally speaking,” I trail off, and by rationally speaking I mean yes. But I know better than to fraternize with potential stalkers, particularly the handsome mysterious ones with one suit. Only now do I notice he is wearing the same one from the other night, a luxury brand yes, but why not buy ten affordable ones than repeat the same one daily?

“I think you're beautiful...” he deliberately trails off, eyeing me expectantly.

It takes me a moment to realize he's waiting for me to speak, “Starr.”

“Star?” his eyebrows crease, judging my parents like everyone who hears my name. I've been told it sounds like a rich nepo baby's name while I'm the dirt beneath the shoe of that nepo baby.

“It's actually Starlina but I changed it to Starlia in grade school,” I add, like it lessens how weird it was for my parents to fail to choose between Star and Lina so they just named me Starlina instead.