Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel by Jamie Schmidt (the reading list .TXT) 📗

Was this chick for real? “Are you crazy? No.”

“Why?”

“Because you work your ass off in this job. If you’re going to do it, you’re going to do it right. Your hustle, your tips.” What kind of exotic dancer gives away money? One who has no idea what it’s like. “You’re going to earn that money. It’s yours. Sure, if you want to tip a few bucks a night to the people who help you like the DJ and the bus staff, that’s fine. But no one has the right to that tip money aside from you.”

“So are you going to put me on the schedule? If I can get one of the dancers to hire me under their business license, that is. And if I can convince you I’m not going to faint dead away?”

“That’s a lot of ifs.”

All my dancers were independent business owners. The fifty percent profit split was basically the rent I charged them to dance at Dalton’s. I had no doubt that one of them would take a flat nightly fee in exchange for hiring Jackie on as an employee. I had a lot of doubts that they would claim her on taxes or do any official paperwork. But Dalton’s was in the clear either way.

“This is a bad fucking idea,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because it’s messy and complicated. You won’t last one night.”

“How long did Lisa last?”

“She was so fucking bad, I don’t even remember.”

“I’m better,” Jackie said, but suddenly she didn’t sound so sure.

It threw me. She was balls-on, full speed ahead, but when her sister was mentioned it threw her. I definitely didn’t need the baggage she was carrying. There was one way to stop this out-of-control train wreck. I’d show her what working the VIP room was all about.

“Let’s see what you got.” I plopped down on the couch. “Strip.”

Jackie froze, her eyes going wide. “So you want me to audition for a part in your show?”

This was going to be fun. I hoped she didn’t storm out and would allow me to buy her dinner after this. “I don’t have a show. I’ve got six-hour slots to fill. The bra has got to go, though.”

“That could work out. I could look for Lisa during the day, and strip at night.”

The crazy chick was considering it and I couldn’t believe she wasn’t telling me to go to hell.

“Don’t you think this is a big sacrifice that you’re making for your sister?”

“This isn’t even in the top ten of things I’ve sacrificed for Lisa.”

“Why?”

Jackie sighed. “You and my therapist ask the same questions.”

“Your therapist owns a titty bar?”

“She could with the money she’s made off my family.”

“Fair enough.” I supposed I didn’t have a leg to stand on. I was obsessive about my uncle’s murder to the point I’d built a club on top of the ruins of his and worked day and night until it was just as successful as the old place had been. I had done it all to attract the same people who’d approached my uncle. I wanted to know what had been worth killing him and burning his club to the ground. I would do anything for that knowledge. I’d take off my clothes and wiggle my ass if I thought it would get me clues.

“Do you want me to get totally naked?” Jackie asked, breaking me out of my brooding thoughts.

Fuck yeah. “Topless is fine,” I said, clearing my throat. “Unless you’ve got a G-string in that suitcase of a purse.”

“You should see my dance bag.” Jackie rolled her neck and shoulders. “I wasn’t planning on auditioning today.”

“This isn’t an audition as much as a seduction. Not so much a dance as it is being a salesperson, and the commodity you’re selling is your time.”

She nodded. “I got it. So if I convince you I’d be a good exotic dancer, you’ll let me hang around and ask questions?”

“As long as you work your shift like the other girls and don’t piss off my customers.” It would never happen, but I was going to have fun watching Jackie’s attempt.

“You got a deal,” she said, stretching her leg flat up the pole.

My cock twitched. I should stop her. “Music on,” I said instead, activating another system command. “Play ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me,’ by Def Leppard.”

The room flooded with the opening lyrics and thundered through the soundproofed room. Jackie narrowed her eyes.

“I looked you up,” I said. “You’re an entertainment agent. You’re a classically trained dancer. This isn’t the Nutcracker Suite. You’d be a gorgeous ballerina, but my clients aren’t that cultured.”

“Music stop,” she said.

The sound quit immediately. I tried not to gloat and started to get up. “I wish you luck finding your sister.”

“How about something from this century?” Jackie cracked her knuckles and barked out, “Computer, play ‘No’ by Meghan Trainor.”

I barked out a laugh and sat back down. But she wiped the smile off my face when, during the premusic part of the song, she deliberately undid the clasp of her bra and shrugged it slowly off one shoulder then the other. Holy shit, she was serious.

“Jackie are you sober?” I swallowed hard as I caught a glimpse of the top of a dusky pink nipple.

“What happens in Vegas,” she said, continuing the slow tease with her bra as she strutted around the room. The entire time she held my eyes in a defiant challenge. My mouth went dry when her bra hit the floor. Her back was to me and she gave me a come-hither look over her shoulder. The sweet line of her back made my fingers itch to touch her.

When the music started, her body pulsed to the music. She lazily twirled around the pole, using it as a prop rather than climbing it. Classically trained or not, she knew how to move her ass and hips. Her natural tits moved up and down to the beat and I couldn’t stop the stupid grin that