13. Dillan
13
DILLAN
T he lights suddenly dim, and the music amps up. I direct my attention to the main room. All around us, the other patrons begin to whisper excitedly, and those who are milling around or chatting immediately stop what they’re doing. One quick glance reveals that the dancers have disappeared.
A smooth female voice comes through the speakers. “Helllllllo there, gentlemen,” she says, and lights begin to flash on the stage. “You’re in for a special treat this evening. To celebrate our grand reopening, we have a friendly little competition going for our dancers. Each girl has put together her own special performance. And the best part is, you all get to decide who wins.”
“What do we get?” a guy yells over the crowd, making the others laugh.
The woman, who is still cleverly hidden, simply chuckles at his question. “You’ll have to wait and see, handsome.”
Our table is fairly close to the stage already. Even so, Gavin and some of the guys turn their chairs to completely face the stage, while Jorge, Colt, and I remain where we are.
The music changes, and the lights come up on the stage, revealing the first dancer of the night. She’s tall and slender, with straight dark hair hanging down her back. Her face is decorated with heavy makeup, which enhances her sharp features and calls attention to her eyes. I see Gavin immediately fixate on her, his mouth dropping open in awe.
The way the dancer moves is fluid and sensual and reminds me of Lizzie—a thought I immediately dismiss. I’m not here to indulge in sentimental memories.
I keep sipping my drink, watching the show with only mild interest. Once the first dancer leaves, another takes her place and does her own dance. They can move; I’ll give them credit for that. Clearly, whoever did the hiring at Sinner’s Lounge has an eye for talent.
“So, back to our bike talk,” Jorge says after a while when he notices I’m not paying attention.
I nod, taking a swig of beer. “Yeah, I’ve been riding that tour for years. From Nashville, you hit the open road, wind through the Smoky Mountains, and trust me, it’s a biker’s paradise…”
I fall back into comfortable conversation with Jorge and Colt about the best biker routes and bikes in general. I’m so lost in the conversation that I almost miss the MC announce another dancer. I just happen to glance at the stage when I see something that instantly draws my attention.
Not something. Someone.
A red-haired dancer. Her face is obscured by a mask, but damn, her aura is spectacular. Even covered by a black dress, I can still see her luscious curves, highlighted by the way the thin fabric clings to her frame. I fight the temptation to think of her , the woman who has managed to wedge herself firmly into my thoughts. It’s not her. The dancer doesn’t move much at first, only lightly sways to the slow music of “I Wanna Be Loved by You” by Marilyn Monroe. But as the beat picks up, so does she.
Colt says something to me. In that split second before I shift my attention to him, the dancer’s eyes and mine connect.
It’s a charged moment that brings everything to a standstill.
The dancer freezes.
The next thing I know, she has turned around and is almost rushing off stage, much to my disappointment. Everyone else seems to have the same sentiment, and a few guys even boo, including Gavin. The fucker.
“ You go up there!” I shout over to him.
He just laughs. “I should.”
The MC announces a new dancer without missing a beat, and the men around me immediately forget about the abrupt ending to the last dance.
When I look back at Colt and Jorge, they also seem perplexed.
“That happen often?” I ask, gesturing to the empty stage.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Colt says. “Poor girl probably got nervous about the competition.”
“Owner of this place said the girls up there got more balls than all of us combined,” Jorge says. “He’s right. Hundreds of horny eyes staring at you. Can’t blame her for losing her shit.”
It’s a logical conclusion. I let the strange occurrence go when I see that Gavin and his buddies have moved their chairs back to face the table. It seems their attention has shifted from the scantily clad women to a new conversation. In fact, they all stand and grab their coats.
“You guys done already?” I ask. Not that I’m complaining.
Gavin claps a hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, we’re good. Also, the guys want to see your bike. I bragged about it. They want to check out your work.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say before downing the rest of my drink. “Colt, Jorge, you guys wanna join?”
“Nah, we’re gonna stay here,” Jorge says. “But hey, nice meeting you.”
We bro-fist. “Yeah, likewise.”
With Gavin and the guys surrounding me, I leave the club. Overall, the evening wasn’t too bad.