Page 10 of Crushed
But like Iris said, I just needed to go slower. I couldn’t get ahead of myself.
The two women linked arms and turned to me. “You want to get a drink with us?” Iris asked. “I’m sure someone is buying. Especially for you.”
I was grateful for the invitation, though I couldn’t tell if she meant that someone would buy me a drink because I was new, or because they wanted to see the trainwreck up close. But Cormac was still casting his gaze on me, and I knew that if everyone was in the lounge, that this would be the best opportunity I had to talk to him alone.
“Thanks anyway,” I said. “I’ll see you guys later.”
I made my way towards Cormac. Though he had been in the club the day before, I hadn’t been able to introduce myself since he was always talking to someone else. It was luck that he was there tonight, and unlucky that he had seen me screw up so badly. So much for seduction when your target was afraid you’d burn him.
Or maybe it was a good talking point? I could only hope.
I went to the bar and ordered a drink. Turning my back to him, I pretended to be occupied. I untied the loose low bun at the nape of my neck and brushed the hair off of my shoulders. A dark figure appeared in my peripheral vision.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I wrinkled my brows. That wasn’t a pickup line I was used to, but I could roll with it. I gave him the biggest grin I could manage. Most men fell victim to smiles like that. It was biological.
“Hi,” I said. I held out a hand. “I’m Scarlett. I’m—”
“The server who nearly lit the building on fire.”
I looked down, glancing at my empty hand, still waiting for his. He wouldn’t shake my hand?
My face blazed in embarrassment. “Stage, maybe,” I said, trying to keep the enthusiasm up. “I don’t think I would’ve burned down the building though.”
He reached over and shook my hand slowly. “Cormac,” he said.
He put his glass on the bar, leaned against the edge, and touched his fingertips together. I arched my back, pushing out my breasts. Even though I had never posed like this with other targets, Dahlia insisted that I do this.Cleavage, she had instructed.Cleavage!But it seemed more like something a rooster would do in a hen house.
“It’s my first day,” I offered.
“You were here yesterday,” he said. “Tonight was your first time performing. It was not your first night serving.”
His words were cool, as if he was peering at me from beyond a window, judging the way I moved, from the safety behind glass. He had noticed me yesterday then. That was good.
“You don’t belong here,” he said.
A flash of heat rolled through me, but I silently counted to ten, letting it subside. You had to be careful in these situations. The way I reacted would ultimately dictate how the rest of our exchanges went. He didn’t know what my job really was, and he never would, as long as I acted my way through it.
I straightened, cutting the chicken pose. “Excuse me?” I asked.
“There’s something off about you.” His lips pressed into a fine line. “You’re not like the other servers.”
“But I am an entertainment server, like they are.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”
I glanced around. What did he mean? But then it dawned on me. Dahlia had mentioned that most of the women working at the Dahlia District had debts that they were paying off. I should’ve come up with a believable backstory. I should’ve asked Iris why she was here before I even stepped onto the floor. How had I forgotten the basic questions for my cover?
“I’m paying off a debt,” I said.
“For what?”
“I lost a lot of money on a bad loan.” That made more sense than car or student loans, didn’t it? A bad loan was vague enough.
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
