Chapter 3
“Roxy!” my boss snaps, startling me out of my dazed state. I must have zoned out again.
“Sorry!” I yelp, getting back to work.
“You’ve been here for almost three months. You’d think you’d pay more attention by now,” he grumbles, but it’s all good-natured. He knows I tend to space out and is just giving me a hard time. I do that a lot. I don’t mean to, but sometimes the noise is so loud that I have to mentally check out.
“Sorry, Paul!” I say again, heading back to the floor. I check on my VIP tables, before assuming my position against the wall as I wait. It’s only ten p.m. Things don’t pick up until about midnight.
“You look gorgeous tonight, Roxy,” the bouncer, Dom, says as I walk past him. I blush, smiling at him. He’s been flirting with me for months now, but let”s just say my last experience with men was enough to scare me off. I know it’s illogical. Not every man I come across can be easily hacked…’cause that”s exactly what happened. Storm hacked Eric. Or me.
He read our messages and got there before Eric could. I ran away last night, and have kept far, far away from Storm. Not that he’s been trying to contact me, but I skipped classes today, just in case.
By some miracle, that fucking stalker hasn’t figured out that I work here yet. So I came in earlier than normal and took an extra shift.
The uniform here is revealing, but not too bad. Sparkly fishnets, a short black skirt, and a platinum silver bikini top. I like to tie my hair up in high pigtails and wear red lipstick when I work. Seems to work for me tip-wise. Not that I need the money, since Papa takes good care of me. Sometimes, I think it’s his way of making up for the guilt he feels over leaving me to be raised by my uncle.
I know he was just doing what he thought was best for me. I don’t blame him…well, maybe a little. I needed him, but he sent me away. He kept Will with him. Why wasn’t I good enough to keep around?
I shake off my morbid thoughts, as a group of eight men walks in off the elevator and sits in my section. I head over, smiling as I approach them. I hand the one that makes eye contact with me the menu and discuss tabletop service. There’s a three hundred dollar minimum to sit in this section. Most of the customers who come to this rooftop bar have no issues reaching that in the first hour.
A few moments later I return to their table, delivering the vodka and rum, along with the ice and mixers, with help from Dom.
I serve each of them individually, and when I turn to the last man at the end, I nearly drop the glass.
“What can I–” My words die on my tongue as Storm stares me down with a blank and unreadable look in his eyes. I drop my gaze to his lap as my heart picks up speed, and it feels like the blood in my veins catches fire. The adrenaline spike makes me dizzy, and I pour him a double shot, add a splash of coke, and practically toss it at him before making my escape.
My mind is reeling, but I have other tables to attend to before I can make an escape to the bathroom. The second I’m sure no one will need me for at least a few minutes, I make a run for the bathroom.
Halfway down the hall, my boss stops me.
“Your new table has requested an at-the-table dance and a private room.” Did I mention I’m a stripper? Oops.
Storm is going to staple me to the wall and use me for dart practice. Fuck, fuck, fuck…
“I need five,” I whisper, and Paul nods. I run to the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. “You got this, bitch. You’re stronger than him. You know seven different men who could make him disappear.” Not that I ever would. I owe him my life. I owe him more… He also ranks higher than five of those seven men…
Last night, I ran for the hills and hid like a coward.
I won’t be a coward tonight.
Lifting my chin, I make my way to the table, avoiding looking at Storm at all costs.
“I heard there’s a birthday boy in need of a dance?” I ask, as I smile seductively at the man in the center of the table. I don’t know who the fuck these men are, or why Storm is with them. And I don’t care. I’m here to dance.
The music in here is loud enough to drown out the thoughts swimming in my head as I climb onto the lap of this stranger and dance to the music the way I was trained. I grab his head between my hands and shake my tits in his face. I grind in his lap, bouncing on his thighs, making sure I don’t rub against anything else.
My g-string matches my top, so when I climb off his lap, I turn around, lift my skirt to reveal the panties, and bend over. I shake my ass for him, and when the song comes to an end, I flee.
“Thank you!” I say, waving the awestruck man goodbye, and don’t spare Storm a single glance.
I run for the back room, tug off my skirt and fishnets, and pull on a skin-tight dress.
It’s red and looks stunning on me.
Heading for the private room, I push the door open and plaster on a fake smile.
“Is it the birthday boy–” My words die on my lips when I see the man sitting on the couch alone. “Fuck no,” I bark, and then make a one-eighty to run away. I tried calling and texting Eric after I got back to my apartment, but he must have blocked me. Probably Storm’s doing.
“I paid. Should I tell your boss, or will you be letting him know?” I ignore the effect his deep voice has on my body.
“Paul doesn’t make us do dances we don’t want to do,” I snap, refusing to turn around even though I’ve stopped walking away.
“What are you going to tell him? He knows exactly who I am. Who I work for. In fact, he knows exactly who your daddy is. Do you really think your father would approve, and what do you think he’d do to Paul when he finds out what he hired you to do here?”
“I’ll quit.”
“Yes, you will. But first, you’ll give me the dance I paid for.”
Fuck, I hate him.