12. The Gift
Chapter 12
The Gift
“ S eriously, Ron? I’m back on the floor again tonight? You promised me I’d be behind the bar.” I scowl with annoyance at the ruddy face of the owner of the strip club. He gives me a lascivious look, from my stupid heels over the barely-there uniform to my breasts, that are hanging on for dear life in this non-existent bra. “You’ll make more money on the floor. Didn’t you say you needed to earn more over the holidays?”
I roll my eyes, knowing full well I’m getting nowhere with him, and as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. I’ll make more money serving the floor, rather than behind the bar tonight. I’ll also get hit on and touched a lot more, too. “Just pretend they’re ants you can crush under the soles of your shoes, Sugar . Grin and bear it, and you’ll make double the tips from the bar tonight; it’s a full house,“ Sasha, one of the other servers, whispers to me while grinning at a customer who is blowing her kisses.
I straighten my shoulders, grab my metal tray off the bar, and head towards my assigned area for the night. There’s a group of six construction workers, still with their neon safety vests on, being loud and rowdy, and enjoying themselves after a shift. Here’s hoping they’re generous tippers. “Evening, gentlemen. What can I get ya?” I cock a hip and force myself to smile, while jutting out my precariously strapped tits. Six pairs of eyes immediately center on them, and my skin crawls with the sensation. Just breathe, you can do this, we need the money.
“Hey, pretty lady. Aren’t you a sight for tired eyes? What’s your name?” A dark-haired, older man questions. I force myself to continue smiling, even though I would love nothing more than to roll my eyes and walk away. Think groceries and rent money, bitch. “Chrissy,” I croak out.
“Chrissy, I think you might be the prettiest girl in this place tonight. Are you dancing too?” One of the others exclaims, his eyes locked in on my breasts, as he runs his tongue over his lips.
Fucking gross. “Nope, just serving. What can I get you all to drink?” They start throwing out their orders, and I make a mental note of them, before heading back to the bar to grab the drinks. Goosebumps rise along my exposed skin, with the feeling of eyes on me. I discreetly look over my shoulder, and catch men from different tables ogling my ass, and have to bite down on my bottom lip to contain the swear words that want to escape. My eyes rise to the center stage, and I watch as Daisy contorts her body around a pole, in nothing but a sparkly red thong, her face entirely at peace as a fucked-up version of ‘Oh Holy Night’ plays. I wish I had her confidence and ‘give no fucks’ attitude, I’d probably be a happier person. Maybe I should down a shot of tequila; it seems to help her get through the night.
After delivering the drinks to that table and pocketing the tips, I turn around and see a man in a dark coat sitting at one of the smaller tables, farther away from the stage in my area. A kernel of excitement fills me, at the prospect of making enough to completely cover rent tonight. Maybe Sasha is right; picture all of them as something I can crush, and keep going. I make my way over to the table, sashaying my hips and plastering a fake smile on my lips. “Hey, what can I get ya,” I question, and the smile falls off my face as I get a good look at who’s sitting at the table. Nic. What. The. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, this day just keeps throwing me curve balls over and over again.
His gray eyes slide over all my exposed skin, with a nonchalant, unimpressed look, before he returns his glance back up to the stage. “She’s really something, ain’t she?” He motions with his chin at Daisy, who’s now doing the splits in mid-air, and only gripping the pole with one hand. A flare of jealousy accosts me, and I have to tamp it down immediately before I embarrass myself. What do I care if he finds my roommate hot? He doesn’t belong to me, even if I saw him first. I remind myself I was a total dick to him the last time I served him, which really he didn’t deserve, and he still tipped me well. “Yeah, she’s amazing. She used to want to be part of Cirque or something when she was younger. Can I get you a drink?”
My eyes move over his tall frame, taking in his dark hair, five o’clock shadow dipped with silver, and the thick muscles across his chest, in the snug-fitting shirt he’s wearing, as he removes his jacket, hangs it off the chair next to him, and sprawls with wide open legs, on the chair that’s far too small to accommodate his large frame. Dark, molten silver eyes meet mine, and the corner of his pink lips lifts. “Are you going to spit in it? ‘Cause I’d rather you didn’t.”
Heat rises on my face with embarrassment; shit, did he see me spit in his food at the diner? “I’ll try not to, no promises though,” I reply as my lips twist into a mischievous smirk. He returns to watching my roommate up on stage, his hands folded on the sticky tabletop, and I catch a glimpse of a black tattoo peeking from below the sleeve of his navy shirt. My mouth waters at the thought of more of them across his golden skin. Get it together, weirdo. He’s obviously not interested in you, and has Daisy in his sights. The thought that he might hit on her, and take her home for the night, has my fingers tightening on the edge of my tray, and the desire to bash it in his face, riling me up. I force myself to take deep, cleansing breaths before I do something guaranteed to get me fired.
“Scotch, neat, no spit, and top shelf.” He dismisses me with a raised dark eyebrow, and I find myself stomping away like a petulant child who has had her toy taken away. Honestly, I’m a mess; what the hell is the matter with me? It’s not like I want the guy for myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him stand up, walk over to the stage, and throw some bills at Daisy, who is now rolling her hips sensually on the stage. She winks back at him and blows him a kiss, as she shakes her ass in his direction. I’ve never wanted to murder my friend before, but right now, I do, and that makes me come to a stop. I can’t be behaving this way. I need to focus on making enough tips to survive the holidays, and not worry about some random guy, regardless of if the fucker is the hottest male I have ever seen, and I want to climb his tall length like a damn tree.
With my internal pep-talk complete, I return to his table with his scotch, sans spit, and place it in front of him. “That’ll be twenty.” I wait as he pulls out a fifty from his wallet and hands it to me. “Keep the change.”
I pocket it quickly, and move on to the next patron trying to get my attention. Soon, I’m running back and forth to the bar, as the club fills up to capacity with men out celebrating the holidays. One of the construction workers snakes his arm around my waist as I’m going by, and tries to pull me into his lap, but I manage to dodge the hold without breaking his jaw. I roll my eyes at his flirty words, promising me a huge tip if I sit on his lap, and elbow him in the chest. My phone vibrates in the pocket of my tiny uniform shorts, and I pull it out to take a look. It’s another text message from an unknown number.
Sweet little temptation, you always look good enough to eat, and I’m positively starving for a taste of you. How about you let me take a bite?
My eyes scan the crowd of men around me, to see if I can spot anyone with their phones out or looking in my direction. This is getting creepier and creepier. The crowd is too thick, and numerous people are holding phones and recording the stage, even though that’s clearly not allowed here. I quickly reply, block the number, and shove the phone back into my shorts, ignoring whoever this stalker wannabe is.
How about I take a blade to your eye socket if you try? Stop fucking messaging me, psycho.
After a while, I head back to Nic’s table, and find one of the blonde strippers sitting across from him in an absurd snowman costume. Who the fuck picks this shit? Her tits look like two snowballs about to explode from the fabric, a sparkly carrot is imprinted on her crotch, and she has a mini black top hat strapped to her hair. I observe as she unabashedly flirts with him, and I release a relieved breath, realizing that it isn’t Daisy. “Hey, doll, can you get me a shot of tequila on his tab?” Terri smirks and winks in my direction. I’m sure she thinks she’s found her meal ticket for the night, but the look of boredom on Nic’s face indicates her assumption is wrong. I don’t want to look too closely at why that makes me unreasonably happy. I wait for a nod, and his motion to bring two of them, before heading to grab them. When I return, he gives me another fifty dollar bill and takes the shot with Terri, who’s now made her way to perch on his knee.
Well, shit, I guess I was wrong. He doesn’t seem to be minding her attention after all. “Hey, Chrissy, table four needs another round,” Sasha calls, as she stops next to me and admires the sight before her with a sigh. “Word of advice, girlie. Stay far away from the ones that are destined to hurt you.” She juts out her chin in Nic’s direction before moving away. I take her words to heart and go about my business, serving the rest of my customers, and ignoring what’s happening at Nic’s table. Obviously, he has a thing for blondes, and right now, I’m kind of glad I’m not one.
I’m taking a quick break at the side of the bar, trying to stretch my tired legs and get blood flowing into my aching toes. I do a quick search of my area, releasing a groan at how busy it still is. Nic’s table is now vacant, the empty glasses left abandoned, and no sight of Terri either. I wonder if she took him to the back area for a private lap dance, or something else. Disappointment and misery war within me, and irritate me because I should know better than to think any guy would choose me over someone sexier, and willing to give it up. Has my nightmarish past not taught me anything? I am never any man’s first choice.
A thought pops into my head and has me instantly stilling. How come Nic didn’t seem surprised to see me working here? Nothing from his demeanor, or the way he interacted with me, gave me reason to believe that he was surprised to see the waitress from the diner also at a strip club ten blocks away. “Hey, Chrissy, the guy from table two said to give this to you before he took off.” Sasha hands me two hundred dollars and gives me a radiant smile. “Guess he was a big spender. Congrats, girlie.”
I pocket the money, even more confused, and put the mystery of why Nic wasn’t surprised to see me here on the back burner. All the money I’ve already earned tonight guarantees I have at least my portion of the rent now. Anything I make from this point forward will go towards groceries, so at least Daisy, Toothless, and I will have food for the holidays. “Hey, Sasha, did he leave with Terri?” I hate the vulnerable tone in my voice, as I bite the inside of my cheek and avoid her eye contact.
“Naw, she’s next up on the stage, he left alone.” He left alone. That shouldn’t please me the way it does, but I can’t help it. He wasn’t interested in Terri, and he left me a huge tip. Who is this guy?