Emily scurried into the locker room at the last moment, already pulling off her shirt to reveal the bejewelled red bra beneath.
"Jesus, Em, you're on in three minutes," Jordan called out from her spot in front of the mirror where she was putting on lipstick.
"I know, I know," she replied, stripping out of her jeans. "I was on my way out the door, but then Jayde started crying and it was a whole thing..."
Jordan snorted with laughter. "And that's why I don't have kids."
Emily just rolled her eyes, elbowed her way in front of the mirror, messing up her hair. From outside the door, the DJ began playing her song. "Fuck..." she muttered.
"Gentleman, let's welcome to the stage the one, the only, Ruby!" the DJ announced.
Emily plastered on a smile, burst through the stage entrance onto the stage, blowing a kiss to one of her regulars in the front row.
Finishing a lap dance, Emily counted out the wad of bills stuffed into her bra. "Fucking cheapskate," she muttered under her breath. Approaching the bar, she slapped her palms down on the surface. "Tequila," she demanded.
As she tossed back the shot, someone approached beside her. "That stuff will rot your gut, you know?"
She looked up sharply. "I don't recall asking for your opinion," she snapped. "Who are you anyway?"
"Derek Morgan," he introduced. "I'm the new bouncer."
She took another shot. "Let me give you some advice: keep your hands off the girls and out of the cash drawer and you'll be fine. Even better if you stay out of my business."
He held up his hands in self-defence. "Message received," he said. "I prefer pleasure to business anyway..." He tipped her a wink.
She scoffed. "Listen, Derek Morgan, I hear a lot of lines, but that was one of the worst."
"Was it at least charmingly awful?" he asked.
Fixing him with a pointed look, she said, "I know what you're trying to do and it isn't going to work."
"And what is it I'm trying to do?" he taunted.
She huffed, annoyed. "I don't date bouncers," she said flatly. "So, you can stop trying. It's not going to happen."
For a few moments, he seemed dumbfounded by her biting refusal, but didn't seem able to tell her so. He was saved the trouble, though, when Rossi sauntered over. "I don't recall scheduling you for a break, Em, and there are plenty of horny guys eager for company out there, so get your ass back out on the floor. And would it kill you to smile?"
"Yes, Boss," she said, plastering on a fake smile.
As she strutted off, Derek made no secret of staring at her ass.
"Am I paying you to ogle my girls and sit on your ass?" Rossi asked, turning to Derek with a raised brow. "Get back to work or you'll need to start paying me."
"Duly noted," Derek said, tossing back the last sip of his beer, then returning to his post. In his pocket, his phone buzzed, probably a text from his mother. She had no idea where he was right now – how could he tell her that he was bouncing skeezy pervs at a strip club when they got a little too handsy with the girls?
Fran would have had a heart attack if he told her the truth. Especially since she was half of the reason he was there in the first place.
Six months ago, Fran had been in a serious car accident and the medical bills were mounting. She needed a spinal surgery in a few months and Derek had no idea how to pay for it...so, he'd taken the bouncer job.
The other reason was also a secret from his mother. His ultimate goal was to open his own club and Rossi ran the best club in three states: the best dancers, the best drinks, and the best reputation. He figured where better to learn the secrets of the trade than right from the source?