Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“For what?”
She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “That’s personal.”
This woman was here for the wrong reasons.
Suddenly, he was feeling generous. “Look, if you need some scratch... a loan...”
Her eyes flicked back up to him. “No, no loan. I’m already in debt because of...”
“’Cause of what?”
She swallowed hard. “Nothing.”
“Ain’t nothin’.”
She sucked in a breath. “Just forget it. I’m sure there are other clubs in the area who will give me a chance.”
Though he needed fresh faces and fresh bodies to bring in new clientele, and to keep the regulars coming back, he didn’t need any right now and he was sure he would regret his next decision.
When she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist. “Hold up.”
She stared at where he held her, her wrist looking tiny in his hand. He loosened his grip slightly since he didn’t want the bulky rings on his fingers to bruise her, but not enough where she could slip away.
“What’s your name?”
“What?”
“Your name. What’s your name?” Dawg barked.
“E-Emma.”
He already knew her real name; she had told him it on the phone. “No. Your stage name.”
The confusion on her face was another telling sign that she didn’t belong in his club, or even on a stage. And certainly not naked in front of a crowd of men, for fuck’s sake.
“Em...” She hesitated. Then with a look of understanding, she began again, “Em... Ember!”
Ember. Fitting for that flame inside her. “Better. Can’t have a kiddie-garden teacher named Emma on my fuckin’ stage.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re going to give me a shot?”
Fuck. His big dumb ass was going to regret this. “Gonna give you an audition. Nothin’ more ‘til I see what you can do.”
Relief crossed her face, and it made him shake his head.
He was such a fucking sucker.
He released her wrist. “Got an outfit you need to change into?” He jerked his chin toward the back of the club. “Dressin’ room’s in the back.”
She glanced down at what she was wearing again. As if she didn’t find anything wrong with that shit she covered herself up with from neck to toe. She could be going door to door, preaching religious shit and handing out pamphlets, dressed like that.
“I’m wearing it.”
His lips twitched. Sure she was. “Got you. Wearin’ it underneath that getup.”
Her mouth opened, then it snapped shut. Right.
“I-I have to dance for my audition?”
His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “No, you’re gonna hand me your fuckin’ resume an’ I’m gonna look it over... Of fuckin’ course you gotta dance. Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” He turned on his heels and ducked behind the bar.
Normally on busy nights he had a DJ playing. During the day and on slow nights, he just used the high-tech sound system that was wired throughout the club. Each VIP room had their own smaller system, so the girls could pick whatever music they wanted for private dances. Then there was also a room off the main stage area for private parties, VIPs and special traveling entertainment troupes. It was a smaller version of the main club area, with its own stage and a bar.
He had to admit that his club was the shit and the nicest in the greater Pittsburgh area, if he said so himself.
He glanced at the woman who remained frozen in place near the entrance. “What music?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you wanna dance to?”
She blinked at him.
“Ah, fuck. You don’t have a routine ready an’ a song picked out?” Of course not. All the red flags in his head were whipping in the wind.
“Should I have?”
This whole thing was going to be a disaster. He should just chase her out of there and stop wasting both of their time.
But he couldn’t. He was dying to see what was underneath that virgin-like outfit of hers. If she had potential, he could get one of his seasoned dancers to give her a few pointers.
Yep, that’s what he told himself. Had nothing to do with him wanting to check her out for himself. Fuck no. She didn’t make him curious at all.
“Rock? Country? R&B? What?” he prodded.
When she didn’t answer, he scrolled through his music and found a song that worked well to get his girls moving on stage. He set up the track and, grabbing the remote, headed down the long, narrow stage that was dead center in the main club area. It had a pole, from stage to ceiling, on each end and the bar was attached to the end closest to the entrance.
He settled his bulk into one of the low, vinyl club chairs that sat directly in front of one of the poles. He wanted a good seat and a very clear view.
He glanced her way. “Need help gettin’ up on stage?” He jerked his chin toward the steps. “Stairs are down on this end.”