Page 45 of Beautiful Scars

He's gotta be desperate. He'd never offer all that if he weren't. I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. It’s hard for me to say no to Benny when he gets that pleading tone in his voice. He has donea lot for me. I don't know where I'd be without him. I feel like I owe him. He doesn't ask for favors often, and truthfully I could use the cash. It’s only one shift, right?

“C’mon, Angel. Help me out? These guys could be good for business.”

I force a light laugh. “Fine, Benny. But, I expect a drink waiting for me when I get there.”

“That’s my girl. You’re a lifesaver, Angel, really. I owe you.” He chuckles, clearly relieved. "Be here no later than eight."

After he hangs up, I sit for a moment, letting the silence close back in around me. It's uncomfortable. It's crazy to me how rattled a dream can still make me. Not to mention how hard it can be to shake it off.

I let out a long breath, forcing myself to pull it together, then push myself off the bed, and head into the bathroom for a quick shower. I wiggle my toes against the cool tile under my feet and stare into the mirror. I look awful. The lack of sleep is starting to catch up with me.

I've had seven years to practice keeping my shit together, and I do an okay job, mostly, but lately things are slipping through the cracks. Maybe it's the anniversary of that night coming up. Maybe it's something else. Either way, I can't afford to let it show. Not tonight. Not in the VIP room.

“You’ve got this,” I whisper to myself as I step under the hot water. It's a well-worn lie wrapped up in a few shaky syllables. It's not the worst one I've told myself lately. Not by a long shot. I'm glad I don't have time to second-guess it tonight.

Twenty minutes later, I'm heading to the closet, grabbing my work clothes and shoes, and tossing them into my bag with my makeup. I grab my keys and toss my phone into my purse and force myself to stop and take a deep, calming breath before I open the door.

It's still hard. You'd think after all this time, I'd be more grounded in my life here. I'd be comfortable with who I am now and it wouldn't take so much effort to live it out every day. I mean it shouldfeellike my life, but it never does. It still feels so unnatural. Walking out my front door as Angel and stepping into the carefully curated version of her life feels as strange to me now as it did the first time I did it.

Figures.I'montime,but the guys were early. I had just enough time to make a quick stop by the bar, knock back my drink, get the preference list and details from Benny, and get my ass over to the lounge. The two massive men standing outside the door, one on each side, instantly calm my nerves. They break into smiles as I approach, and I can't help but smile back.

They look tough—all hard edges and seriousness—I've seen them drag plenty of guys out the back, but to me, they've never been anything but sweet and kind. Jade used to scold me for tipping them out so well every night. I give them at least double what they get from the other girls. I can’t help it. It never made sense to me to cheap out on the guys who've proved they'll be there to save your ass if you need it.

It took a awhile but she finally gave up trying to talk sense into me.

I admit I feel better about tonight knowing they're the ones watching out for me.

"Hey Jake. Hey Eddie," I nod, as I stop in front of the door and adjust the ribbons in my hair. "How's it looking for tonight?"

"Should be a pretty easy night. It's a small group. Benny sent Jade in to cover the bar for you until you got here, so it's the two of you. And the dancers, of course."

"Of course," I say the words, only slightly regretting the snark that comes with them. It's not that I have an issue with anyone here directly, it's more the issue they seem to have with me. It's like high school all over again most of the time. It's taken me years to learn to ignore it and let it go.

I grab the handle of the door, close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"You're good Angel. We got you," Jake leans over and whispers. "You're gonna kill it tonight."

Those words were the boost of confidence I seemed to need. I pull the handle, throw the door open wide and step into the dimly lit lounge. The door closes behind me and the relentless thump of bass and heavy beats flooding the floor of the main bar and stages, softens into something silkier, softer. Low, seductive rhythms pulse hypnotically, just loud enough to force conversation close in. It's a completely different world on this side of the doors.

Dark leather couches and armchairs line the space, arranged around small glass tables. There are a few small stages lining the far wall—all fixed with color changing LED lights and shiny chrome poles stretching up to the ceiling.

I count seven men scattered around the room. They're sitting comfortably with the kind of confidence that comes with serious money. And power. I stride over and come to stand beside one of the couches.

"Good evening, gentlemen," I say in my sweetest, flirty voice. "My name is Angel, and I'll be taking care of you tonight."

Seven sets of eyes land on me, almost in unison, all of them appraising me. I offer them my widest, brightest smile and give them plenty of time to drink in the view. This is probably the only time tonight that I'll have all of their attention to myself and attention equals money, so I do my best to make sure I leave a lasting impression.

“Angel, huh?” The man closest to me leans forward, his lips quirking into a lazy, lopsided grin. He’s broad-shouldered and rugged looking with a deep voice that matches his rough exterior. “Fitting. I'm Zane. Call me Z.”

He offers his hand, and I shake it lightly, keeping my smile firm. His eyes linger a second too long on mine before he sits back and drapes his arm over the back of the couch.

“And I’m Colt.” The voice comes from a man planted in one of the overstuffed armchairs. He barely spares me a glance. Jade, who is supposed to be behind the bar, is sitting on the arm of his chair, leaning against the back instead. Her fingers rest on his shoulder.

Good thing it's a small group because the smirk on her face tells me she's found her home for the night. His hand absently trails up and down her thigh, clearly more interested in her than my introduction.

"That's Chase over there," Zane gestures lazily to a guy practically drooling over a redhead's routine. "Next to him is Jayce." Both men barely acknowledge the introduction, transfixed by the show.

"Ty's the quiet one," Colt adds, nodding toward a brooding figure in the corner who lifts his glass in silent greeting.

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