Chapter 15 #2
Disappointing him is the last thing I want to do. If he’s appalled at the idea of me dancing again, I might actually consider not accepting the job.
But the money…
I curse inwardly as I pull into the lot. First things first. If I walk in and the place makes me feel sick like that dive in LA did, I’ll just walk back out, and the whole debate will be a nonstarter.
“One day at a time,” I murmur to myself.
Trixie’s Tavern isn’t open to the public right now, so there are plenty of places to park. I turn off the ignition on Rico’s car and take a second to simply breathe, gripping the steering wheel as I inhale and exhale. Klaus lets out a little yowl and nudges me with his big nose.
“I hear you, buddy,” I tell him with a weak laugh. “Nothing’ll ever change if I just stay here. Shall we go see if you can come in with me?”
He barks properly at being asked a question. Obviously, he thinks he should be allowed everywhere. Time to find out if the feeling’s mutual with whoever I’m meeting through those doors.
I whisper a quick prayer then finally get my ass out the car.
The email said to come through the front entrance rather than anything out back, so I only hesitate a second before pushing the glass door inward to escape the heat.
There’s a booth where I guess someone takes payment and checks IDs, and enough space for a couple of bouncers, but it looks strangely empty in the daylight.
There’s a corridor to my left with a sign for the hotel reception, but I’m immediately amused by the saloon gates in front of me that presumably lead to the bar area.
Music is playing loud enough that I can tell it’s more than just background noise, but definitely not at the decibel level I’d expect from a club packed with people.
I look down at Klaus who smiles up and me and butts his head against my calf. “Yeah, yeah, bossy pants,” I mutter, secretly grateful for his encouragement.
We make our way into the main room, letting the half-doors swing behind us.
And I freeze.
The house lights are dimmed as half a dozen guys in regular clothes rehearse a routine on stage. But my attention is immediately drawn to how the bar is lit up so prettily with all the liquor bottles on display under spotlights.
I can’t do this.
This was a mistake.
I clutch my chest, feeling like not enough air is getting into my lungs as I back away.
I was an idiot the think this was a good idea.
It doesn’t matter that my heart aches with longing at seeing the guys having fun under the warm lights, remembering what it felt like on the good nights where you made the bride-to-be or birthday girl feel like a superstar just by looking her way.
This is a disaster waiting to happen. A trick, a trapdoor, a sea of temptation dressed up with cherries and little umbrellas and—
Whatever I reverse into not only makes me jump a foot in the air but also clatters to ground with a metallic clang that cuts above the pop song currently reverberating through the speakers.
It’s a rope stand that bounces on the floor as I wince and jerk my head to see if anyone else heard above the baseline.
Of course they did.
A couple of the dancers snap their heads my way, but then a shadowy figure rises from a chair I didn’t even see in front of the stage.
The music cuts. The house lights come up. Mortification rushes through me…
Until I look at the smiling woman peering my way.
“Why, hey there, sugar!” she cries in a thick southern accent. She covers her eyes from the overhead lights with one hand and waves at me with the other. “You must be Jesse, huh?”
She’s a little over five foot if I had to guess, decked out in a triple leopard print outfit with knee high denim boots that boost her an extra few inches higher.
In theory, I’d argue the look was tacky AF, but on her is cute as hell.
Blond curls tumble around her shoulders and every inch of her seems to shimmer as she skuttles over my way.
Large earrings shaped like cassette tapes swings from her lobes and the scent of candy floss drifts with her as she nears.
My chest is still rising and falling as I try and get a proper breath in, but her energy is infectious, giving me a sliver of courage. Also, I feel a firm, furry weight pressing against the backs of my legs, reminding me that no matter what, I’m not alone.
“Jesse, yes,” I manage to croak. “Hi.”
She snatches up my hand and pumps it firmly.
Her long nails also have leopard print on, and her dozens of gold bangles clink together like tinkling bells.
“I’m Trixie, sugar, and I’m so excited to meet you.
” She releases me and wolf-whistles at the dancers on stage who have stared talking among themselves.
“Y’all take fifteen, okay? Hydrate. And Lucas?
Be a darlin’ and run that new section with Riley so he’s all caught up with y’all.
Mama’s gonna talk with the new kid a minute. ”
The men remind me of a puppy pile as they grin, laugh and wave as they hop off the stage and disperse, leaving me with this very enthusiastic lady.
The fact that she called me the new kid kind of implies I already have the job, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.
Especially as I’m still reeling from the strong reaction I had walking in here.
“Ma’am,” I say, instinctively mirroring her accent and tipping my imaginary hat like a reflex. I guess I can’t run out now, although it doesn’t feel like my panic attack is receding much.
Immediately, she narrows her eyes at me, emphasizing the few lines she has around the edges. “Oh, darlin’. Are you okay? And who’s this magnificent creature, hmm?”
She dives down and smooshes her face against Klaus’s, completely without fear. He yaps and dances on his feet, wagging his tail in delight.
“He’s allowed?” I force myself to ask.
Trixie stands back up, her make-up still perfect despite rubbing Klaus’s fur into it.
“Service dogs are welcome when we’re open,” she informs me earnestly.
“But when it’s just family durin’ the day, I say that’s fine.
I’m the boss, after all!” She laughs heartily, and I find myself smiling faintly with her.
My heartrate is slowing a little, I think.
“Shall we take a pew on the boards, sweetie?” she asks me. “Can I get you some water? You look a little spooked.”
I’d be embarrassed about my stupid gremlins still causing me trouble, but I’m so touched by her kindness, I just find myself nodding.
Wordlessly, she leads me by the elbow to perch on the edge of the stage, Klaus sitting by my feet, and she’s back in a flash with some cold water in a glass complete with ice and a slice of lime.
“Don’t be nervous,” she says brightly as she drops to sit beside me. “You’re gorgeous, and your muscle tone is insane, so I already have a hunch that you’ll be just fine. Your application said you’ve been dancin’ for years, so I assume you have an itty bit of rhythm in those hips.”
“Um, yeah, I think so,” I say, taking a gulp of water and letting its coolness rinse through me.
Breathe, just breathe.
I glance back at the bar and try and weigh up if it’s worth me wasting Trixie’s time. But as I’m nibbling my lip, I feel her hand slip over my knee and squeeze, making me look back at her.
“You’ve been through it, huh?”
I gaze down at my water. If I admit she’s right, will that harm my chances of getting hired? Or does she deserve to know the truth?
If I’ve learned anything since I started taking my recovery seriously, it’s that honesty is always the best policy.
“I’m four months sober,” I rasp, shame burning through me.
Except Trixie shakes my leg and squeals in delight.
“Really? That’s fantastic! Oh, hon. I’m so proud of you.
Now I can see why you’re frettin’, but would it help to know that I have a strict no drinkin’ policy for everyone who works here?
From me to my boys to my gals that keep the Tavern spick and span.
While you’re on my clock, you’re sober as a judge. ”
A nervous, shaky laugh falls out of me, and I blink back tears as I look at her. “That’s good to know, yeah. Thank you.”
“Obviously, our guests do drink, though,” she says seriously. “Some of them…a lot. Is that gonna be a problem for you, sweetie?”
I swallow and consider it before answering. “I’m not sure,” I say truthfully. “But I know rules help me and I don’t like letting people down. So that could make it easier on me. I might not know until we reach that point, though.”
“All righty, then.” She slaps my thigh and grins at me. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But you won’t get a lick of judgement from me or any of my boys, you here me? We accept all kinds of kinds around here. That’s pretty much why I came out west and started this silly dream of mine.”
My hands are more steady now and my heart feels less like a galloping horse. “It looks great from what I’ve seen,” I tell her earnestly. Kitsch, perhaps. Definitely fun and cute. But that doesn’t mean silly to me.
“It’s taken a lot of elbow grease and cussin’ to get it this shiny, I’ll say.” She whistles and jumps to her feet. “Would y’all like a tour? We can gab on the way.”
“That sounds great.”