Chapter 5 #2
I mean you could work, if you could somehow find the time. But that’s only if you’re a Russian citizen. Foreign apprentices to the Imperiya Korona don’t get work visas.
“There’s other ways you could make cash over there…”
I cringe when I remember Carrie, from The Mirage, butting into my conversation with Maya about this and giving her two gross cents. “I mean, you’re young, you’re pretty, you’re American …” She’d shrugged. “Men would pay…”
My stomach had twisted with nausea when she said it.
Yeah, not happening. But that means socking away as much as I can now. Which is sort of hard when Derrick’s legal case keeps hemorrhaging money like this.
“Brooklyn?”
I exhale, groaning. “Still here. Sorry.”
Diego clears his throat. “If we want this guy…and I do recommend him…I’ll need the money from you by next week. Is that doable?”
Doable? Yes. Crippling? Also yes, with a bullet.
“Sure,” I mumble, glancing up to see Val and Evie walking down the alley toward where I’m leaned against the back of the theater. “I’ll have it for you.”
“Great. Appreciate it. Anything you want to pass on to your stepfather? I’ll be having a call with him in a few days.”
I shake my head. “Just… Tell him to hang in there.”
“ You .”
The blood drains from my face when I hear his voice behind me. I can see the same anxious horror on Maya’s face that I’m sure is all over mine before I pull away from her and turn to face Lou.
I’ve had about a dozen missed calls and a slew of furious texts from him since no-showing last night.
I’ve just been giving Maya the run-down about what happened to me last night and why I missed work.
I hadn’t decided if I was going to tell her about Kir saving me or just lie and say I got away.
But now Lou’s interruption saves me from having to make that choice.
Lou is middle-aged and probably less than ten years older than Kir, but the difference between them is staggering.
Thinning, wiry gray hair, a perpetual shaggy, unkempt scruff on his jowls, breath that reeks of cigars and cheap whiskey, and hands that like to touch, pinch, grab, and otherwise molest things they shouldn’t.
He’s a roundish man who tends to wear cheap dress pants slung low, underneath his beer gut, paired with obnoxiously loud “silk” Italian shirts, open about three buttons too many, to show off his hairy man-cleavage and gold chains.
He’d be a comically gross 1970s throwback if he wasn’t, one, my boss, and two, an utter creep.
The way his smile is curling lecherously at the corners right now sends sick feelings curdling through my gut.
“My office,” he snaps. “Now.”
He turns and storms out of the dressing room. I glance at Maya, who tries to give me an encouraging look, but it’s clouded by worry.
“He hasn’t had a drink yet,” she says quietly. “Not here, at least.” Her mouth twists. “He was pissed off last night, girl. But you know Lou. He’ll yell and be an asshole. But you and I are two of the highest earners here.” She hugs me. “You’re not going nowhere, okay?”
But it’s not being fired that I’m worried about as I turn and follow Lou down the hall to his grubby, foul-smelling office.
“Close the door,” he grunts from the squeaky chair behind his cluttered desk as I step into the room.
A chill runs down my spine as I feel the door click shut behind me.
Please no.
Not this again .
“Where the fuck where you last night?” Lou snaps, his beady eyes glaring at me.
“Lou, I’m so sorry,” I gush. “I was out back, and these four guys from the night before jumped me. Remember the finance guys from the bachelor par?—”
“All I’m hearing is bullshit and excuses, Brooky.”
Fuck, I hate that name. It’s so infantilizing. My mom also called me that, which brings up a whole other mixed bag of emotions.
“Lou, they jumped me .” I show him my hands and lift my hair off my forehead.
Lou looks at me impassively.
“Like, all four of them chased me and dragged me to the ground,” I continue, feeling panicky. “Look.” I yank my skirt up and lift a knee. “See?”
Lou grins. But he’s not looking at my knee.
I quickly lower my leg and smooth my skirt back down, my stomach churning.
“Four of ‘em, huh?”
“Yeah,” I nod.
Lou sneers. “You fuck all of them?”
My gut twists. “ No , I?—”
“You left me fucking hanging last night, Brooky.”
My lips press together. “Lou, I’m sorry , but it was a little beyond my control?—”
“Come here, Brooky.”
No. Please God, no .
“Come here ,” he growls, a sick sneer on his face as he taps the desk in front of him and pushes his rolling chair back from it.
My body goes numb. It only happened one time before this. I was new to the club, down to literal dollars in savings, and desperate.
And Lou knew it. Smelled it the way a shark smells blood in the water.
He told me all his “favorite girls” did this for him sometimes. “You help me, I help you get the good shifts,” he’d said as he grinned at my tearful face and pushed me to my knees.
I tried to think about anything except what was happening while it was going on.
I thought of ballet. I went through the thirty-two fouettés in the coda of Swan Lake ’s Black Swan Pas de Deux , and Nikiya’s beautiful solo from La Bayadère while Lou’s thin, disgusting penis thrust weakly between my lips.
“Brooky…”
I blink, the color drained from my face as I stare at Lou, glaring at me.
“I said get your ass over here .”
“Lou, I’m sorry?—”
“I know you are,” he leers. “And now you’re going to show me exactly how sorry you are.” He shrugs. “Or…” His lips curl viciously. “There’s the fucking door.”
For a second, I almost do it. I almost turn and give him the finger on my way out.
But fucking hell, I need the money from this job. For my survival, my future in Moscow, and Derrick’s legal bullshit. To stop the whole world from caving in.
A numbness replaces my pulse as I shuffle across the room toward the predator sitting behind his desk, already loosening his belt. I move around the edge of his desk until I’m between it and him, leaning back with my arms folded protectively over my chest.
“C’mon, Brooky,” he grunts. “Ain’t gonna suck itself.”
Bile and sick swirl in my stomach.
“Look, we doing this or not, kid?” he snaps. “If not, again, there’s the door.”
He grabs my wrists and yanks my arms down to my sides. He grins as he fumbles with my breasts, grabbing and squeezing and groaning in sick pleasure as I try to escape to a black hole inside my mind.
“Mmm, baby, you might have small ones. But they’re still pretty sweet,” he grunts. “Show me.”
I look away, hating myself, life, the world, Lou, as I lift my shirt. I shudder when he grabs the cups of my bra and yanks them down to paw my bare skin.
“On your fucking knees, Brooky,” he rasps, his face red, eyes gleaming, breath coming faster. “Better make it nice, baby. Your job’s on the line here. If it’s no good…” He winks at me. “Well, there’s always other holes for my dick, yeah?”
My stomach heaves. I can actually feel the vomit trying to surge up my throat as I drop to my knees in slow motion.
Suddenly, there’s a pounding at the door.
“Lou, we got a problem!” Zak, Lou’s head bouncer, roars through the door. “I’m gonna need you out here!”
Relief floods through me like cleansing fire.
“God dammit !” Lou hisses, his face sweating as he lurches from his chair and fumbles to button his pants and buckle his belt again.
I get to my feet, trying to pull away as Lou reaches out and grabs my tits again.
“Rain check, Brooky,” he wheezes, shoving past me and toward the door. I tug my bra back into place and drop my shirt back down just as he yanks the door open.
“Hey, Lou, thank God.”
Maya. I could cry. Or kiss her. Or both.
She shoots a quick look past Lou in my direction, nodding her chin just enough to let me know.
I got you .
“Couple of high-roller types. Armenian mob, maybe?” She sighs with exasperation. “Someone spilled a drink on one guy’s suede jacket, and he’s accusing one of the waitresses…” She shakes her head.
“Shit’s getting rowdy, Lou,” Zak mutters, also shooting a quick glance past his boss toward me. But this isn’t a look of concern. It’s tinged with anger.
Maybe something approaching jealousy.
Great .
“I’d kick ‘em all out, but they’re on your VIP list, so…”
“Fuck,” Lou sighs. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”
He storms past the two of them in the direction of the VIP rooms. Zak is muttering to one of the other bouncers on his earpiece, turned away, when Maya slips into Lou’s office and moves to my side.
“Hey,” she says quietly, her eyes searching my pale face. “You okay?”
I smile uncertainly. “Yeah…”
“Did that motherfucker?—”
“ You rescued me at the last minute ,” I croak, my voice breaking as I reach out and squeeze her hand with mine.
“Maya!” Zak nods his chin at her. “They want you in room three to help Lou smooth shit out. Get your ass going.”
“Okay, okay, no need to get rude,” Maya flashes the sort of smile at Zak that she usually reserves for the shittiest, most offensive customers.
Kill ’em with kindness.
She glances at me once more before she leaves the room. I start to follow, but Zak moves in front of me, blocking my way.
“The fuck was going on in here?”
I shake my head, not meeting his eyes. Zak is a big, beefy guy who looks like he lives at the gym and eats creatine and steroids for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
He wears his long hair in a tight man-bun, loves it when his job includes hitting people, and has this utterly psychotic tribal tattoo around his right eye and down one side of his face.
He might be head of security, which in theory includes protecting the dancers. But honestly, he scares the shit out of me.
“Nothing,” I mumble. “Just talking schedule with Lou.”
He grunts.
“You and me should go out sometime.”
Not in a million fucking years, buddy-boy.
“Yeah...” I murmur. “Sounds…like fun?”
I chance a furtive look at his terrifying face.
Fucking hell, that tattoo is insane, and extremely scary.
Zak grins. “Yeah? When?”
Fuck .
“Soon,” I smile a wilted smile at him. “Listen, I gotta go get changed for my shift.”
“Don’t keep me waiting,” he calls after me. “Or I’ll have to come find ya!”
Horror, shame, hatred, fear, and everything in between ripples up my spine and settles in my chest.
Why the fuck are all men like this?
Well…not all men, I think, heat pooling low in my core.
“You’re in my home. You were attacked. I brought you here to take care of you.”
“Who were the men who attacked you?”
“Try to be safer in future, Ms. Ellis.”
“Thank you, sir…”