Chapter Four
Serenity
‘You’re a little late tonight, sugar,’ Misty comments as I enter the dressing room at Surly’s, having changed back into my ordinary clothes.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, out of breath, going straight over to the hanging rail and pulling off my jacket. ‘I had to stay late to sign my contract and pose for group photos.’
‘Oooh, a contract, that sounds mighty important.’
I go over to my mirror and kick off my shoes, tonight’s outfit on a hanger looped over my fingers. I drop my shoulders. ‘There’s a clause that says I can’t bring the Mutineers brand into disrepute.’
Misty raises her brow. Tonight, she’s a blonde in black leather hot pants and long gloves. ‘Good lord, it’s just a football team. I’d argue half the players bring that brand into disrepute most nights of the week.’
‘Guess they hold us ladies to a different standard.’
Now she’s rolling her eyes. ‘Ain’t that always the way?’
Dancing on stage hits different tonight.
The moves are the same, so is the crowd, but while normally I can ignore those eyes on me, I feel like, tonight, everybody knows.
They know I’m the same girl, who on Thursday night, is gonna make her maiden performance as a law-abiding, rule-following, wholesome cheerleader on the sacred field at Danube Stadium for the opening game of the Mutineers pre-season.
How did I possibly ever think I could get away with living this double life?
Under the red lights, nerves cut through me, my palms sweaty against the pole as I cling to it.
After, I head straight to the office, wrenching ten and twenty-dollar bills from the rim of my boots.
‘You doin’ alright, Ren?’ Jaxon asks me once the door is closed.
I give him a once over. He’s wearing a suit tonight. The realization is a gut punch. ‘Please don’t tell me—’
Jaxon grits his teeth, offers me a shrug. ‘Boss man’s in town.’
He’s referring to Kale McCoy, proprietor of Surly’s. ‘Just in town or heading this way?’
Jaxon looks at his watch. ‘As in heading this way any moment.’
My heart hammering, I quickly count the last of my dollar bills and hand them over to Jaxon so I can make myself scarce.
Jaxon takes my money, walks it over to the desk. ‘Got a tip off today, Ren. Heard we got a bunch of NFL players coming here tomorrow night to let loose for a pre-season party.’
This time, my eyes go wide. ‘NFL?’
‘Heard they all Mutineers players. Want me to switch your shift?’
I can’t even form a response. All I can do is nod my head. ‘Please,’ I manage in a whisper, turning and heading for the door.
‘Thought you might say that.’
My fingers go to the handle. I thrust it open, glancing back to acknowledge Jaxon before slamming straight into the hardest wall.
I don’t even have to look up to know who I’ve just walked into.
‘Woah, darlin’,’ a low tone echoes, and I’d know the voice anywhere, because it sends chills down my spine. Kale grabs one of my wrists and I flinch. ‘What’s the hurry?’
With his body, he eases me back inside the office and closes the door.
‘Evening, Mr McCoy,’ I hear Jaxon say, though Kale’s gaze hasn’t shifted away from mine. The more he leans forward, the further back I go. He’s chewing gum and I can smell the remains of cigarettes on his breath.
‘You staying on top of that logbook?’ Kale asks Jaxon.
‘You mean, for Serenity? Yes, sir.’
‘Good,’ Kale says, then looks me up and down. ‘Ren’s still my prettiest girl, wouldn’t you agree?’
Jaxon doesn’t answer straight away. ‘Yes, sir. Absolutely.’
Kale reaches out and cups my chin. When I try to turn my head, he grips me harder, forcing me to face him.
He’s a heavy-set man, and his face is always moist with a layer of sweat.
‘I got a job for you, sweetheart. And he expects the best, so I’m gonna give him the best I have to offer.
So, when I say, you’re to go give him some sugar. Surly’s rules.’
I gulp. Surly’s rules refers to a private dance for a client – usually one of Kale’s associates – where there is no security or chaperone present, and the dancer must strip down, fully naked.
What makes it more unbearable is that the no-touching rule becomes ancient history.
I’ve done it once before, and it was enough to know that I never wanted to do it again.
‘I don’t want to,’ I say, and I’m betrayed by the tremor in my voice, because he knows I’m afraid.
His mouth is set in a grim line. ‘It’s a gift, darlin’; it ain’t up to you. Don’t be shy now.’
I try to stand my ground. ‘Then I want Hurley present throughout.’
Kale clicks his tongue. He bears down on me, forcing me back. ‘You know better than to make demands of me, Serenity. I seem to remember I’m the one bailing you out here. So, pucker up. Get your pretty ass out there and show my buddy a good time.’
Inside, the lights are low. Lower than usual, a lot of neon blues and deep purples. In some way, I’m grateful, because my face won’t be so visible. I’m wearing a wavy, dark brown wig, with bangs. Hurley is nowhere to be seen either. Apart from the client, I’m on my own.
‘Remember,’ Kale had hissed at me before he’d slapped me on the behind and shoved me inside the room, ‘Surly’s rules.’
My mouth has gone dry. Us girls call this the Throne Room, because it contains a high-backed chair covered in red velvet with a gold trim. The man I’m dancing for is already sat down. Even seated, he appears tall. He wears jeans and a fitted cotton polo, brown shoes and a dark baseball cap.
I walk over to the sound system. I try to send my thoughts to the usual mundane places, but I can feel his gaze on my back.
‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’ he asks, and I’m struck by how deep his tone of voice is. He’s local too, a Texan, possibly from Canyon.
I keep facing away from him. ‘Brandy,’ I say, using my stage name.
I hear him chuckle. ‘Oh, it’s like that now, is it? I mean your real name.’
‘My name is Brandy Velvet.’
‘Then turn around, Brandy Velvet, so I can look at you.’
I do as I’m asked.
‘We don’t need no music,’ he says. ‘Come closer.’
I take a tentative step forward. Does he want me to dance in silence?
‘Raise your eyes to me, honey.’
It takes me a moment to look at him. I can still hear the music from outside in the main bar area thumping through the walls, one of the girls up on stage. The man’s face is still in shadow underneath his cap. All I can see is the shape of his chin.
‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-two.’
‘How long you been a dancer?’
This feels strange to me. We never talk to the clients if we’re performing for them. Not when we’re up on stage, either. Only occasionally if we’re serving drinks. ‘Since I was eighteen.’
‘Go on, then. Gimme a little twirl.’
It occurs to me that maybe he’s shy. Or embarrassed. Though he sounds sure of himself. I turn all the way around slowly, and when I’m done, I think I hear him sigh.
‘Kale was right about you, Brandy,’ he says on an exhale.
‘You want me to dance for you?’ I ask with my heart thumping in my chest.
Another moment passes before he replies. ‘How about we skip to the part when you undress for me?’
I stiffen. Okay, so he’s definitely not shy.
‘Nice and slow,’ he instructs. ‘Start with them boots.’
I’m not used to this. There’s no music and ordinarily, my boots remain on for the duration.
In my head, I try to figure out how I’m gonna keep things sexy, though a quieter voice asks why I even have to.
Stepping forward, closer to him, I lift my leg and place my heel on the top of his thigh, bending my knee.
I never need to remind myself that I’m doing this for the sole reason of paying off my father’s debt.
‘Help a girl out?’ I say.
Taking his time, he lowers each zipper one at a time.
Straightening, I swallow a lump in my throat and step out my boots.
Sliding them out of the way, I reach around to my back and unclasp the corset, allowing it to fall away.
As I do so, I hear him inhale through his nose.
He adjusts his position on the throne, resting his ankle on his knee, leaning back a little.
I try to control my breathing. I don’t know whether it’s better or worse that I can’t see his whole face.
‘Keep goin’,’ he says.
Raising my hands, I grip the hemline of my panties.
‘Slowly,’ he reminds me.
Hooking my thumbs inside, I peel the material away, my heart in my throat. This is how I felt last time. Standing in front of a stranger, exposed and vulnerable and just wanting to run.
When the material reaches my thighs, I let it drop to my ankles. I step out of my panties and with my toe, glide them toward my boots.
His breathing is deeper. So loud he’s like a bull and I can tell that the sight of me naked has got him excited.
‘Come over here,’ he says.
I take a single step forward.
‘Closer,’ he hums.
I take one more step, willing this moment to be over.
‘You’re beautiful. You got a guy waitin’ on you at home?’
‘No.’
‘That just Brandy answerin’, or the real you?’
‘I don’t have a boyfriend, no.’
‘If I was your boyfriend, I’d never let you outside the house.’
I stay quiet, questioning what he wants my response to be.
‘Turn around,’ he says.
I do as I’m told. Tears prick my eyes. I want this to end.
I flinch as his hand grazes my hips. He tugs me backward, and within a moment I’m in his lap, facing away from him.
‘Mmm,’ he hums quietly as his palms snake from my hips up to my rib cage, and a moment later, cup my breasts, squeezing the nipples between his fingers. I feel his reaction under my thighs. I close my eyes as his fingers mould and squeeze my skin.
‘No enhancement,’ he comments in my ear. ‘I would have sworn they would be. Makes you even more irresistible.’
His breath rasps against my ear, the sensation giving me chills. When his teeth nip my earlobe, it’s enough to send a tear sliding down my cheek.
His hands are on the move again, sliding down the plains of my belly and coming to rest on the tops of my legs. I glance down. His fingers are long, his palms moist against my skin. Then he does something I don’t expect, he pushes at the inside of my thighs, willing them to part.
The urge to run is almost overwhelming, but I’ve seen evidence of what happens to people who defy Kale McCoy. And so I let it happen.
My entire body tenses as the same long fingers trail a path along my flesh, inching toward my most intimate part.
I squirm, then, because fear takes over me, my ass grinding into him.
As I do, I feel him tense up, his nails digging into my thighs.
Then he hunches over me as a low, guttural groan escapes his lips.
I remain still for a moment and he’s breathless, but his fingers have come to a halt.
In the next moment, he pushes me off his lap.
‘Thank you, Brandy, you can go now,’ he says in an even tone.
I get dressed faster than I’ve ever done in my entire life.