Chapter 48 Camden
FORTY-EIGHT
CAMDEN
Thanks to my sister and her friends, it didn’t take long to find the club where Kacie works.
“Do not get yourself arrested again,” Cora says as we pull up to the club.
She refused to let me come alone, and after what I’ve put her through this week, I knew better than to argue.
“I promise. I just want to talk to her.”
My sister arches a brow. “And if she refuses to speak with you?”
“Fine. You can come in. But stay at the bar. If I throw hands, you can step in, but I need to do this myself.”
With a roll of her eyes, she opens the car door.
“And don’t talk to anyone,” I add.
Over the roof of the car, she gives me an are you fucking out of your mind? look. “Cam, I used to dance for a living. I can handle any person in this bar. Promise.”
Of course she can. That doesn’t mean I like it. I hate that she worked in a place like this. Just as much as I hate that Savannah currently is inside, maybe on that stage now. Just the thought has me hustling to the door.
By the time the bouncers let us in, my heart is pounding so loud I can barely hear the music. It’s dark in here. The walkways are lit, as is the bar and the stage, but the main area has very few overhead lights on.
The smell of booze and cheap perfume hits hard, making my stomach roll. Savannah does not belong in a place like this.
Fortunately, the woman on the stage is unfamiliar. Maybe Savannah is just bartending.
“I’ll grab drinks and keep a look out for her,” Cora says, grasping my arm. “And remember, don’t get arrested.”
“I won’t,” I promise. My head is on straight now. For the first time, it’s crystal clear just how much my fuck-up has cost Savannah. She’s working here because of me. I can’t hurt her again. I need to get this right.
The woman wearing nothing but a G-string crawls across the stage and kneels on the edge. Men lean forward and push dollar bills into the string she holds open. The nausea in my gut builds. Not Savannah. But I need to find her.
The music cuts out, and the woman on stage stands and collects the money the men in the audience have thrown at her.
It’s demeaning, the way she’s forced to collect it all in front of them while almost naked.
Fuck. I hate that I’ve been to places like this dozens of times and never considered the perspective of the women here to make a living.
Hell, I hired strippers for my Christmas party.
The same party where I met Savannah. I have no room to judge, and yet here I am, a huge fucking hypocrite, ready to rip out the eyes of every man in this room if they’ve gotten so much as a peek of Savannah.
The next woman saunters out, a new song beginning. At the sight of dark hair, I breathe a sigh of relief. Not Savannah. Though I do recognize her. This is Kacie. Savannah showed me pictures one night last week. I was curious, and Savannah had fun with it.
She stands in front of the pole, and when the light hits her, she flips upside down.
The crowd of men goes wild. Since I’m guaranteed a few more minutes before the next act, I need to fucking look for Savannah in earnest.
I catch a server’s eye, and when she smiles, I crook a finger, gesturing her over.
“Hey, sugar,” she says. “What can I get you?”
“The manager, please.”
Her smile falls. “Everything okay?”
Nodding, I pull my wallet out. With a fifty held between us, I say, “Just get me the manager. Everything is fine.”
She slips the money into her bra and smiles again. “Will do.”
I search for Cora, on high alert. Fuck. How is it that the two most important women in my life are in a dark room filled with horny men?
When I find my sister seated at the bar like she said she’d be, with a soda in front of her, watching the show, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Heard you were asking for me.” The man approaching me is dressed in a suit and has slicked-back hair. Stereotypical seedy club manager.
“I’m looking for Savannah.”
The man’s eyes flash in recognition, but he covers it up quickly with a cough. “We don’t give out dancer’s real names.”
“I don’t need you to give me her real name, I know it. I just need you to find her for me.”
He chuckles. “Listen, man, if you’re her boyfriend and you just found out about this, I understand it can be a shock, but the girls are safe here. You can talk to her when her shift is over.”
My anger flares to life, my vision darkening. “She’s not doing a shift,” I growl. I yank out my wallet again and count out ten one-hundred-dollar bills. “This is yours if you go back to that little room and tell her that she can go home.”
He scoffs, his slicked hair reflecting the colored lights from the stage. “She’s not going to just leave. She needs the money.”
I close my eyes and breathe, ignoring the way the place smells.
Fuck. Get it together, man.
When my anger has dissipated a little, I pin him with a look and flash him my wallet. “Fine. There’s another ten in it for you if you make sure she’s not on stage and send her to a private room.”
“Private rooms are fifteen hundred.”
“Ten grand. You and Savannah can split it. I’m sure she’ll agree to that. Tell her she’s got a private client and then disappear. Understood?”
He swallows thickly, surveying me. “You’re not gonna hurt her, right?”
I reel back. “What? No. I just want to talk to her.”
“You’re going to pay ten grand to talk to her?”
“Yeah.” I’d pay a hell of a lot more than that, but I know this ass is gonna want to keep at least half of it for himself, and I’m not feeling that generous.
This way, at least Savannah will have enough to pay her rent and then some.
More than anything, I want her to come home with me tonight and never leave again, but knowing my girl, this isn’t gonna be that easy.
“Damn, you must really love her.”
I run a hand through my hair. “You have no idea.”