4. Myla
CHAPTER FOUR
“You ready for your first solo shift?” Dutch squeezes my shoulders playfully as he stands behind me.
“It’s not like you assholes won’t be in here bugging me all night anyway,” I say.
“That’s true.” He plops down in the chair next to me, his black shaggy hair falling over his eyes, something he rectifies by shaking his head to the side.
Dutch reminds me of a dog, and not in a bad way. He’s cute and playful, and even when bad things happen, he’s quick to release the negativity. Also, he’ll do anything for one of the meat sticks I bring to snack on, including running to my car to grab me a tampon. He’s also fiercely loyal and protective. A couple days ago, I watched him go from kidding around to beating some guy’s ass when he got grabby with one of the girls before they’d come to any agreement. Then, seconds after the guy sped away, he was right back to his usual happy self.
“Besides, I was ready to be on my own a few days ago. It was Rigger who thought I wasn’t ready.”
“This job could be life or death for those girls walking around, so of course he wants to make sure you know what you’re doing before you’re left alone,” Golden says from where he’s perched against the doorjamb.
If Dutch reminds me of a dog, Golden reminds me of a stick in the mud. He’s the club’s treasurer, and there has never been a more suitable position for someone. He takes his job seriously and follows every single rule Rigger has laid out.
Dutch leans in, getting close to my ear. Feeling his warm breath makes my skin crawl, and I have to fight the urge not to back away. He’s not a threat, Myla. Keep your shit together. “Legend is, Golden shits diamonds because of how tight he keeps his ass clenched.”
I hold back my grin, wanting to see how the man in question will take the insult. He walks behind me and smacks Dutch on the back of the head. “Fuckin’ idiot.”
Releasing my smile, I draw my knee to my chest and settle in. For the most part, this job is boring, requiring copious amounts of caffeine to stay alert for the possibility of someone needing help. Even when I’m brought an ID to check, that only lasts a minute or two, and then it’s back to staring at a screen for so long, my eyes cross.
I’m not here for excitement, though.
Headlights flash across the screen that shows the entrance to the ranch, and both guys jump to their feet. Part of their job description is intimidation, so they make sure to be seen when a guest walks in.
“See ya in a bit.” Dutch musses my hair as he trails after Golden.
I don’t waste time combing my bob down. This is my first chance to do what I came here for, and I only have a few minutes before Dutch or Golden will be back with an ID to run. I grab the tablet that houses the database of guests and get to work. Satyr is nothing if not thorough, so I can filter the list for guests we’ve turned away. I quickly highlight and copy my selection before opening up a blank spreadsheet and pasting the information.
My heart pounds in my chest as I glance up to check and see where my babysitters are. Dutch and Golden are standing in the parlor as Mary goes through her spiel about how things work. Good; that means I have a few more minutes.
I hit print and wait. My leg bounces as the machine comes to life and warms up. I grab the pages the second they spit out, folding and tucking them away into my bag. Once that’s done, it’s just a matter of hiding my trail. I delete the search and close out of the program, which won’t stop someone from seeing what I did if they dug around, but there’s no reason they would, so I’m confident it’s enough. The door to the office opens just as I’m locking the screen and setting the tablet back down.
“Need my services?” I ask, smiling as though I wasn’t just up to no good.
“Yup. Here you go.” Golden hands me the ID, and within seconds, everything anyone could want to know about the man is on the screen in front of me.
“Oh my god. What the fuck?” My eyes widen at what I’m seeing.
“What?” Golden leans over me and is silent as he reads through the information. “How is this man not in prison?”
“He’s a senator, and surprise, surprise, he wasn’t ever convicted. As far as anyone knows, those are just allegations.” I scroll down further, bile burning up my throat.
“No fuckin’ way is he getting near our girls.”
I hand him back the ID. “Don’t go out there guns blazing. You don’t want to make an enemy out of him.”
“I don’t give two shits what this guy thinks of me. He’ll be lucky if he leaves here without his balls being kicked in. Assholes like him deserve to meet the Reaper.”
“That man has more power in his pinkie than the entire club put together. I’m telling you, if you piss him off, he could make your life hell.”
“He’s a senator from Oklahoma or some shit; he doesn’t have any say in Nevada.”
“All political figures are interconnected. Just trust me on this,” I plead.
“So you want me to just let him go back with one of the girls, knowing he’s been abusing his wife for years? And that’s just what we know of. Who knows what he’s done that he’s gotten away with.”
“No,” I say but he doesn’t wait for my answer to storm out of the room.
Chewing on my nails, I watch the camera as it follows him to the front office. He tosses the ID on the desk in front of Mary as she stands to face him. I can’t hear anything, but the more Golden’s mouth moves, the more nervous and worried Mary becomes. She falls back down to her chair and smooths her hands up and down her pressed slacks, and I can practically see her mind moving a million miles a minute. What I explained to Golden is true, and she knows it. After all, I learned it from her.
Mary has an uncanny way of learning all her girls’ strengths and weaknesses, and while she’d never tell a client who to choose, she has steered them in the direction of who she thought they would do best with. Prior to working at the ranch, I was a dancer at a club where the owner cared more about money and less about safety, which meant I was used to dealing with a certain kind of man. The kind of man who didn’t respect boundaries or rules and liked things on the opposite side of vanilla. I quickly learned how to give these men just enough to keep them happy without compromising my safety or well-being.
Mary used that talent, and whenever a powerful man came in, like the one lounging in the parlor now without a care in the world, she would steer them my way. I didn’t mind because they usually had the most money, and they didn’t mind because my small stature and innocent appearance fed into their sick and twisted desires. Plus, I really was good at what I did.
I click the volume icon on the screen showing Golden and Mary so I can hear what’s going on. Already, I know what I’m going to do, but I have to make sure there are no other options before I do it.
“We’re fucked,” Mary says.
“I’ll tell him we don’t have any women free,” Golden offers.
“Clearly, you’ve never met a man who has never been told ‘no’ a day in his life.”
“I could take him out. I’m sure he didn’t tell anyone he was going to a brothel.”
“You’re not really suggesting killing a man in front of me, right?” Mary pins him with a look. Her only stipulation for agreeing to be the madam of the Honey Pot was that the Sons kept all their illegal activities away from her, minus the background checks, because her girls’ safety was priority number one. She’s been in this business since she was a teenager, forced to sell herself on the street. Somehow, she avoided being arrested all these years and doesn’t want her first time to be when she’s so close to retiring.
“We can’t kick him out”—Golden holds up a finger, ticking off a list—“we can’t send him in with any of the girls, and we can’t kill him, so I don’t know what you want me to do here.”
I’m on my feet before I lose my nerve. I owe Mary and the ranch my life. Had she not hired me, I might have been forced to stay at the Thirst Trap with Tinleigh, and we all saw how well that ended for her. What they did to me is nothing compared to what she endured. Had the roles been reversed, I don’t think I’d be alive today. If I can do this one thing for her, I should.
“Let me do it.” The words are out before I can swallow them down and before Golden and Mary realize I’m in the room with them. They both gawk at me as though I grew three heads.
There’s no way they can turn this guy away. He’ll have federal eyes on the club and the ranch before the night is up. Even if everything is on the up and up around here, they could be shut down for weeks or even months for an investigation, and then what? The girls depend on this job for so much more than rent and food; some of them are mothers, some have sick family members who need expensive treatments, and some are in school, bettering their lives.
“Myla, no. No way. Not a chance.” Golden waves his arms. “Not just because it’s wrong, but because Lucky and Tinleigh would kick my ass.”
“You don’t have to tell them. The only person who needs to know is Mary.” I meet her hard gaze and swallow, hoping she can’t see my unease. “I was known for handling men like him.”
“Men like him?” He places his hands on his hips. “I won’t pretend to know what all has happened to you, but I saw you after you were dropped off at the club, and that’s enough to know you can’t do this.”
“Yeah, I can. Plus, you said it yourself, you’re out of options.”
“I don’t want anything to do with this, and I’m going on record as saying this is a bad fuckin’ idea.” He runs a hand through his hair, which falls perfectly back into place.
Mustering every ounce of confidence I have left in me, I stand and turn on my charm. I place my hands on Golden’s chest, pressing my body against his as I gaze up at him. “Oh, come on. It’s just a little sex. There’s nothing to worry about.”
He shakes his head and takes my hands in his, pushing me away. “Don’t do that. Not with me.”
Shame heats my cheeks as he storms out of yet another room. I don’t know why I did that. Golden has been a friend to me. All of the Sons have treated me with nothing but respect. Actually, they’re the first men I’ve ever considered to be my friends, and I went and ruined it. I’m blowing up my life for no reason at all. This wasn’t my problem—not anymore—so why did I decide to place myself in the middle?
I can’t worry about that right now, though, because I can feel Mary’s scrutiny without even looking at her.
“Fiona,” she scolds, and I wince at the name I gave myself to keep a level of privacy while working at the ranch. Seeing my reaction, she corrects herself. “Myla. I’m sorry about that. My mind isn’t what it used to be.”
“I don’t think it’s smart to turn that guy away?—”
“I agree.”
“And I know I was the one who usually took one for the team,” I say, forcing a smile. “So unless you have a better idea, I volunteer as tribute.”
Her lips purse, not buying my dismissal of the seriousness of the issue. “I haven’t found anyone else who’s able to get through a session with those assholes as well as you do. The other girls, they show their fear, and it only feeds the fire, escalating things. But I can’t ask you to do it. Not after everything.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Rigger would be pissed.”
“Don’t tell him. I know I won’t.” I fidget while she paces with a hand covering her forehead as she considers what to do. We both know this is a volatile plan that’s more likely to backfire than go well, yet neither of us is quick to dismiss it. I only hope she thinks fast because my confidence is waning with each passing second.
“Are you sure you can handle it?” she asks.
“Yes.” No.
“Well, you look a mess, so if you’re going to do this, you better ask one of the girls for some help.” She nods to the man on the other side of the bullet-proof glass, who’s seated in the parlor. “I’ll take him to the bar to buy some time.”
“Okay.”
She points a finger at me. “The house isn’t taking half on this one. You’ll get the entire amount.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can.” She walks out, plastering a fake smile on her face, ready to go make nice with the douche.
It only takes fifteen minutes to get me in fighting shape. Dieanna was kind enough to loan me a red slip dress and a pair of heels. I’ve never worn red before because it washed me out, but with my new hair color, I don’t have that problem. As I look myself over in the mirror, I groan at how many years I spent not wearing red. It makes me look seductive and intimidating, and when paired with my round blue eyes, button nose, and pouty lips that give off a youthful innocence, I think the senator will be more than happy with me.
Walking into the bar, I turn off Myla and turn on Fiona. Some sex workers can remain the same person with a client as they are in real life, but a lot of us prefer to keep the two lives separate. Myla pays bills, wakes up with her hair in a rat’s nest, shits, burps, and has opinions. Fiona, however, only exists to please her client. Her pussy is always wet, her asshole is always bleached, and she is excellent at reading body language and listening to cues so she knows exactly how to make a man happy.
I sidle up to him, nodding to Mary as she gives us privacy. Standing with my ankles crossed and my back straight, I say, “Hey there. I’m Fiona.”
“Fiona.” He tries the name out, not bothering to hide his perusal of my body. “Mary was right; you’re exceptional.”
I dip my chin, pretending like his compliment moved me. “Oh, thank you. That’s very kind.”
“Well, I think I’ve waited long enough. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Just one second. We have some boring business stuff to take care of first.” I roll my eyes as I take a seat on a stool. “Tell me what you want and what you like, then I’ll tell you what I will or won’t do.”
His tongue sweeps across his upper teeth, grossing me out. He’s not a bad-looking man. His hair is styled, his face clean-shaven, and he’s wearing a navy polo that’s tucked into his jeans. He clearly works out too, because his arms are defined and his stomach is flat. There’s absolutely nothing outwardly wrong with him; it’s the vibe he gives off. Men might not notice it, but I do, and so would most other women.
“I want to fuck you if that’s what you’re asking,” he says.
“That can be arranged.”
His eyes darken. “I do have some preferences, though.”
Here we go. This is the part where he admits his darkest fantasies. “What kind of preferences?”
“I reserved the classroom because I heard there’s a paddle in there, and your ass would look beautiful glowing red.”
“I can consent to a paddle, but nothing that will leave a mark for more than an hour.”
His lips press together in a flat line, showing his irritation. “What’s the fun in that?”
“Oh, I can be a lot of fun.” I prop my tits up on the table as I lean in.
“What about biting?”
“You want to bite me?”
“Just a few love nibbles. Maybe a gentle slap now and then if the mood strikes.”
“No marks,” I remind him.
“I can live with that.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Anal,” he blurts out.
I already knew he was going to want this. “Alright, but the price goes up with that.”
“I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
“Then we have a deal. Now, let’s get the visual inspection over with so we can play.” I jump off the stool and grab his hand.
I walk him toward the clinic, and once he passes the visual inspection of his junk, I lead him to the classroom, my gut screaming at me not to do this.
Why don’t I ever listen to that bitch? She’s always right.