Page 8 of Reclaimed

“Fine. But you each owe me fifty if I fuck her.”

Someone slaps the table and the boisterous hoots sound again.

“That’s my boy!”

“Don’t take no for an answer!”

I shove myself out of the booth. I fight against the urge to glare down each one of those mother fuckers as I cross in front of their table. A pulse throbs in the back of my head as I make my way to the security guard blocking the back hallway.

“I want to buy Stella’s dances tonight.”

The guy looks at me from behind his thick rimmed black glasses. “Only one.”

“I’ll sit for one but I want to pay for them all so she doesn’t see anyone else.”

“The rules say one client equals one dance.”

“This is how it’s going to go. I’m going to hand over my credit card to cover all of her dances tonight and I’m going to sit for one. Everyone gets paid and she can go home early.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You see that table of guys over there?”

He leans around me to glance at the rowdy group. “Yes.”

“They’re planning an attempt to sexually assault her. I’m going to sit for a dance to keep her occupied so she doesn’t have to see you throw their asses out and ban them from ever coming back.”

“Maybe I should throw you out and ban you from ever coming back.”

“She’s my friend. I’ve known her for a long time. I’m going to make a guess that with the crowd she pulls, your boss likes having her here. She brings in a lot of business. One word from me, and she’ll quit on the spot. All those clients that watch her shake her ass will stop coming to the mediocre replacement act.”

His blue gaze is calculating as he stares me down evaluating my bluff. “Give me your credit card.”

I effortlessly hand over the thin plastic just as I feel a presence behind me. The smell of stale whiskey floats over my right shoulder.

“Hurry it up man, I need to buy my boy a lap dance.”

The security guard holds out my card, and I slip it from between his outstretched fingers.

I turn as I slide it back into my wallet, staring down the asshole behind me as I tuck the billfold back into my jeans.

“Sorry man, there’s none left.”

The humor falls from his face as he looks from me to the security guard rising to his feet.

“C’mon, there’s got to be one dance.”

I slap him hard on the shoulder as I pass. “Better luck next time. Or maybe not, if you’re going to joke about putting women in nonconsensual situations.”

“Hey, fuck you!” he shouts as his friend puts a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

I stare him down coldly. “You should be thanking me. I just saved you from winding up in jail.”

“You’re a prick.”

“And you’re a predator.”

I leave him with the security guard and walk to the private room down the hall.

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