9. Vanessa #2
“No, Vanessa,” he says in that scary low voice he uses when his rage is bubbling just below the surface.
“You don’t get to make demands of how I use you.
You work for me. Your family has a roof over their heads because of me.
Your mother and sister aren’t working like you because of me. You don’t call the shots here.”
I blow out a breath, my cheeks aching from trying so hard to keep my smile. “What would you like me to do, then?”
“Be my eyes and ears. I have another little assurance in place just in case, but I need to know everything you see and hear about any business. I can’t be everywhere all at once. So handling the Black Roses is your job.”
“Little assurance? Is there someone close to the club reporting back to you?” That makes me nervous. If Russ has another set of eyes and ears in the clubhouse, then what are they telling him about me?
“You don’t need to worry about it.” He leans back in his seat and takes a sip from his beer. “Now why don’t you be a good little girl and do your job. You get paid with VIP dances, don’t you?”
“Yeah?” Does this sick fuck actually want me to strip for him in a private room?
“Great. Carl here needs a little attention,” he says, nodding toward a man to his left.
I turn to look at the man in question—who has a giant scar running down the length of his face.
He’s staring at me like a fucking creep, and when he licks his lips while his gaze runs over me, I want to empty the contents of my stomach.
You get a sense about people in this job, and I’m not getting any good feelings about this guy.
“I have to go on in a few minutes. I don’t have time for a VIP dance.”
Russ leans toward me, but doesn’t touch me, just places his face way too close for comfort in front of mine.
“I told you to take Carl back to the VIP room, so that’s exactly what you’re going to do.
I have shit to do tonight that doesn’t include watching a bunch of bitches shake their asses for money.
Carl wants a dance from you, so you’re going to dance for him. ”
I plaster on a fake-as-hell smile, my gaze darting around the club.
My eyes lock with Jason, one of our security guards, and I give him a smile so he thinks everything is A-OK at the table when it absolutely is not.
I wouldn’t put it past Russ to make some stupid scene if he doesn’t get his way, then leave me to clean up the mess.
I stand from the chair and hold out my hand for Carl. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”
The man stands and slips his damp palm into mine.
Fucking gross.
I lead him back to a room and over to the couch before turning on some random music. I’m one hundred percent only in here to appease Russ because he’s a fucking psychopath. I couldn’t care less about acting like I care at all about showing Carl a good time or making a big tip.
When the music is playing, I get on the small stage and start dancing to the beat. I’m trying to keep a neutral expression on my face rather than showing the disgust I feel.
“I can watch you dance on the pole out there. I want a lap dance. Up close and personal.”
Stepping off the mini-stage, I make my way over and begin moving my body to the beat of the bass coming through the speakers.
“Closer,” Carl says, reaching out to grab my hips.
I quickly step back and give him a hard look. “No touching. Sit on your hands if you need to.”
“Russ won’t like that.”
I quirk a brow and wait for him to comply. When he does, I take a step forward.
“At least act like you’re into it. Isn’t that what strippers are supposed to do?” he whines.
I inhale a breath and count to three in my head before I straddle his lap and turn my back to him. I hear him humming his approval behind me, but thankfully he doesn’t try to touch me again.
“Russ showed me a picture of your mom. She’s a fine-looking lady, even for someone her age. I see where you get your good looks from,” he says quietly behind me. Quiet enough to not have the cameras pick up on what he’s saying.
“Thanks, I guess,” I reply.
“I saw your little sister, too. Now, I’m not saying I’m one of those weirdos who like little kids, but I know some who are. It would be a shame if one of them started sniffing around your mom’s apartment.”
I stop moving, and he tuts his disapproval. “Keep moving, Vanessa. We wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re uncomfortable in here. How would you explain that to the biker you’ve been fucking?”
I resume my movements but keep my mouth shut.
“Do what Russ tells you, and I’ll make sure my friends with more…depraved tastes, shall we say, stay clear of your mom and sister. Decide you can run and disappear? Well, don’t think for a second Russ won’t find you. That my friends and I won’t find you.”
I’m going to be sick. My blood pressure is at an all-time high, and I think I might pass out.
Because if there’s one thing I know about Russ, it’s that he doesn’t make empty threats.
And I can tell from how easily Carl is threatening my family as though he’s commenting on the weather that he’s not one to make them either.
“Do you understand, Vanessa?”
“Yes,” I hiss out as the song comes to an end and stand. “It’s time for me to get ready for my set,” I say with a tight smile.
“It was nice meeting you,” Carl says, standing from the couch. “I’ll be seeing you.”
Fuck, I hope not.
I open the door and lead Carl back out to the main room of the club.
“How did it go?” Russ asks, and Carl smirks at him.
“Your sister has a great rack.”
“Step,” I clarify. “I need to get back to work.”
I turn on my sky-high heels and briskly make my way back to the dressing room. Only a few girls are in here since we’re so damn busy.
One of the girls looks at me through her reflection in the mirror as she finishes applying her lip gloss. “You okay?” Her brows dip, and I catch sight of myself in her mirror. I’m pale with a crazed look in my eyes.
“Fine. I think I need to eat something,” I answer, even though food is the furthest thing from my mind.
She stands from her seat and smiles, then points to the small vanity. “There’s some candy in the top drawer. Help yourself,” she says and heads out the door.
That leaves me and two other dancers who are busy changing their outfits, having just come off stage from a duo performance.
I walk toward the bathroom in the back of the room, grabbing a pillow from the couch as I pass it.
When I’m behind the closed door, I lean against the wood and hold the pillow against my face.
Then I let out an angry, painful scream into it.
I take a long breath in and do it again.
I scream because if I don’t, I’m liable to break down into tears.
Then I do it one more time for good measure.
After grabbing a few paper towels and wetting them with cold water before holding them to my face for a little relief, I head back into the dressing room.
I don’t look at anyone as I make my way to my little station and start fixing my makeup.
No one asks me again if everything is okay, so I have no clue if they heard me screaming like a lunatic into a pillow.
My makeup isn’t too messed up, and I’m finished and changed into my outfit for my next stage performance in less than ten minutes.
I’m dreading going back out there, dreading seeing Russ and his friends and having to put a smile on my face when all I really want to do is break a bottle over that asshole’s head.
I don’t have that option, so I simply walk back out and stand next to the DJ booth for a moment before she announces me, and once again, I plaster a fake smile on my face and walk out to my music.
The fog machines are on full blast, which is a good thing considering my eyes are probably about as dead as I feel inside right now.
I chance a glance toward the table Russ was occupying and find it empty.
Looking around the rest of the club, I don’t see him or the other three guys.
He might have left me to my work, but their threats are still living loudly in my head.
I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do to get out of this, but I think I might need to come up with a plan B.
And it’s going to need to include some protection from a man who hopefully won’t hate me when everything comes to light.