Chapter 4
“Ow!” Nell cringed away, raising her hand towards her bloody forehead. “You said you wanted to help. That doesn’t feel like helping.”
“It feels like cleaning the wound, you idiot.” Harper dabbed the wet cloth against the cut. “Now sit still.”
Nell grimaced but did as she was told, letting Harper push back her curls so she could get a better look at the injury.
“How bad is it?” Nell said, wincing. “Please don’t tell me I’ll need stitches. I can’t afford a trip to the emergency room right now.”
The wound had looked like a doctor’s visit would be necessary, but closer inspection showed it was just a tiny scratch near her hairline. Head wounds looked scarier than they were.
It wasn’t the first time Nell had been dragged into the staff room because a sudden injury needed fixing. She possessed the same level of grace as a drunk newborn deer.
“No stitches. If I keep pressure on it, it’ll stop bleeding soon.” Harper gave her a long look. “This is what happens when you wear heels more than a couple inches high.”
“My heels weren’t the problem. Those guys were. When they start fighting, I’m not the one who’s supposed to get them to stop hitting each other. Colton didn’t even interfere until I was already bleeding.” Nell sighed. “I’m so sick of him. I thought Patricia was hiring a new bouncer.”
“Well, Darryl is a dick. He probably put a stop to it, like he does most of her suggestions.”
Though Harper wasn’t one for giving creepy-ass Colton any kind of slack, the confrontation hadn’t been that serious.
The injury didn’t come from a direct assault but from Nell trying to calm down two men who didn’t want to be calmed down and then tripping over her own feet in the process. They’d dealt with worse.
Nell nudged Harper’s knee. “Hey? You okay?”
“You’re bleeding, and you’re asking if I’m okay?”
“It looked like you disappeared for a second. What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” Harper managed a smile. “It’s just been a while since I did this. I’m rusty.”
Nell smiled, too, as weakly as Harper imagined her own looked.
Nell was part of why they’d left Shreveport a year prior.
Her last boyfriend had a rotten temper, culminating in a lot of broken drywall and a restraining order the cops didn’t bother enforcing.
She’d kept to the story that he’d never hit her, despite the bruises she’d been wearing, but he’d done something.
Something bad enough that she’d sworn off dating after getting away from him, stating that she wouldn’t start again until she learned how to pick better people.
But that was just one reason they’d left. Felicia’s—the club they’d all worked at—burning down was another. Adding in a healthy dose of grief, combined with an encroaching army of lawyers, and they’d all wanted to get out of Louisiana.
It just sucked that this was where they ended up.
“You should go home. Unfray your nerves somewhere an audience isn’t watching,” Harper said.
Nell inspected herself in the vanity mirror. The cut had stopped bleeding, leaving only a small red mark, but it was still visible.
“I can’t. My car broke down, and I need this shift to pay for repairs.”
Harper picked a few stained bills out of her bag. “How much? I can front you what you need so—”
“No, you can’t. You have an apartment deposit to save up for. I’m fine, besides.”
Nell ruffled up her thick curls, covering the tiny injury. Even if they hadn’t, her hair was so lustrous that most people would be too busy staring at it to notice anything else.
It didn’t come cheap either. Harper had witnessed Nell’s hair routine, and though the results were to die for, she would take that grave option over the numerous steps involved with producing those damn curls.
“See? Good as new.” Nell put on a sweet smile, batting her eyes. Her expression softened from teasing to sincere when she gave Harper a gentle shove. “Go. You don’t need to worry. I’ll just fix my makeup and then I’ll be good as new.”
Her cheery tone didn’t invite argument. And she did seem fine. Harper had seen her when she was actually rattled, and it didn’t involve this level of irritation in her eyes as she started dabbing concealer on her forehead.
“Then you better hurry. Otherwise, I’m stealing all your regulars.” Harper dotted a kiss on Nell’s cheek, getting a playful scowl in return as she ducked out of the breakroom.
Worrying about Nell had been the norm just a year before. She’d needed it then. But all the worry she’d produced needed somewhere else to go, and since Patricia was an expert in deflecting it, Harper made a prime target.
It had been easier when Evie was around. She could shoulder some of the attention. And pinpoint the exact reason someone was acting off. No one could hide anything from Evie.
Harper had to stop at the entrance to the club floor. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing down the pressure that had come dangerously close to producing tears.
She shouldn’t think of Evie. Even though it was hard not to do so. Most nights Harper had spent in places like the Lucky Penny, she’d had a show of Evie twirling around a pole, playing in her periphery. If there was a stage in the room, Evie had owned it.
Harper took a deep breath, putting on a flirtatious smile as she stepped into the smoke-filled clubroom. Those thoughts couldn’t be entertained if you were looking to earn money, and she needed money.
Going by how empty the place was, finding it would be difficult. But she didn’t back down from a challenge, and if anyone could wring cash out of the sparse clientele, it was pretty little Aurora.
That was something universal about working this scene, regardless of how shitty a location you were in. You learned your strengths and faults very quickly, and you had to figure out how to turn them into profitable tools just as fast.
On paper, the work was simple: take off your clothes while men throw bills at you. But anyone could do that. What turned a dancer from eye candy to apex predator was their ability to find the men who would throw the most bills.
Harper looked around, not seeing much unclaimed prey.
A man was hiding out in the corner, intent on gawking rather than buying, and a trucker-looking guy was in a nearby booth, staring blankly at nothing.
A regular of one of the other girls. Not only would he deny Harper’s advances, but if she tried to go for him anyway, she’d also piss off the woman he’d come to see.
Then Harper spotted potential. A young man in a cheap suit was standing a few feet from the entrance. He was clutching a beer glass, sneaking a glance whenever a dancer walked by. Shy. Inexperienced.
Perfect.
Opening her robe, she sauntered across the room to stand a few feet from him. She put on a bored expression, pretending to look around and being unimpressed by what she was seeing. When she was sure he had spotted her—and that he was doing more than just glance—she gave him a sweet smile.
“Hey there, handsome.” She moved over next to him, resting her eyes on his lips. “I’m Aurora. What’s your name?”
The man’s eyes had gotten progressively wider as she closed in.
“T-Tyler.”
“Tyler…” She brushed a finger over his arm and leaned closer, bringing her lingerie-covered body only inches from his. “You look tense, Tyler. Sitting with me for a song or two might help you relax.”
“Uh…” He was gawking right at her chest. “I haven’t… I don’t know…”
“First time?”
He nodded. The poor boy was all red in the face.
“I’ll go easy on you,” Harper whispered, taking Tyler’s hand in hers. “Besides, I’m bored. And you look like a lot of fun.”
In reality, Tyler looked like he was about to pass out. But he let himself be pulled away from the wall and towards one of the unclaimed couches.
Harper smirked. It really was too easy sometimes.
Like most dancers, she knew what archetype she presented.
She was petite, deceptively sweet-looking, and had mastered the art of sending fuck-me-eyes to people she didn’t find the least bit attractive.
Those looks let the man she’d targeted imagine her acting like a wildcat in the bedroom, while her innocent appearance made him believe she was in this line of work for him and him alone.
It was perfect for guys like Tyler. Men who told themselves they were doing a good deed by paying for her company, because now sweet Aurora got to dance for them instead of some other mean man.
As expected, she had Tyler’s attention for longer than ‘a song or two.’ Harper was living proof that strip club ATMs were dangerous, and Tyler made more than one trip to the machine before he left, grinning like an idiot and with his shirt soaked in sweat.
She hadn’t done anything more than tease him, but she’d done it effectively enough that it made a dent in her expenses.
But it wasn’t a big dent. After Darryl’s cut and paying for the water-damaged studio she was stuck with until the end of the month, her earnings were negligible.
Pulling her robe around herself, she headed for the corner bar. Given the steady flow of traffic going in that direction, Patricia had replaced one of the useless people on payroll.
Harper rolled her eyes. Of course Darryl prioritized the bar. A lot of his profits came through his alcohol license.
Keeping her scowl in check, she eased onto a barstool. “Hey, can I get—”
Her tongue froze. All of her froze, including her limbs, gaze, and even her breath as the bartender turned her way. Revealing delicate features and gorgeous golden-black eyes.
Maya smiled. And it was just as voice-stealing as the first time Harper saw it.
“Hey, Harper.”
Harper kept staring. And Maya kept smiling. When Harper realized her jaw had actually dropped, she clamped her mouth shut so hard her teeth clattered.
“What are you… You’re here. Why are you here?”
“I’m working. This is my first shift. Pretty quick turnaround, too, since my interview was only a couple of nights ago.”