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

I had been doing in the hotel room. The only difference was I hadn’t been in my bra and panties. Squaring my shoulders, I walked up to her.

“Can I buy fifteen minutes of your time?” I asked.

“First time in a strip club, honey?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I’m not looking for a lap dance. I wanted to ask you some questions.”

She looked me up and down. “Most guys like a little jiggle in the wiggle. But you have good muscle tone.”

I was ridiculously pleased by that. “I’m a dancer, too,” I said.

Glancing around the empty club, she sighed. “I can spare the time. It’s a hundred dollars and a two-drink minimum.”

I tanked the wine I was drinking. “Does that count?”

“No.”

Shrugging, I said, “Okay, let’s go.” Reaching into my purse, I pulled out a bill and handed it to her. The expense report from this trip was going to be a hoot. I tried to imagine my mother’s face when she saw line item: Stripper-VIP dance. Hey, she’d said not to blow it all in the casino. There was nothing in her warning about exotic dancers. Bribes would also be an equally amusing entry on the ledger. I’d have to give it more thought and get creative to save my mother from having an aneurysm.

She tucked it into her bra. “I’m Cookie.”

“Jackie,” I said, following her into a ten-by-ten foot room.

“Two drinks,” she reminded me. “Thirty bucks.”

“Jeez.” I coughed, but quickly recovered when she glared. “What would you like to drink?” I asked.

Cookie considered it for a minute. “Rum and Diet Coke.”

“Get two. With Bacardi.”

“Big spender,” she said. “Most of the guys go for the well booze.”

Placing a hand on my stomach, I grimaced. “Life’s too short to drink cheap rum.”

“I can get you top shelf,” she said hopefully. “It’s just a little extra.”

“Bacardi is fine.”

She came back with two iced-filled glasses. Each was garnished with a cherry. “You’re not going to believe who’s out there,” she said.

“Who?” I asked.

“Chance Bateman. He’s an Australian soccer player.”

“Yeah?” Smiling, I remembered that Lisa had had a crush on him. There had been a poster of him in her bedroom. “I don’t suppose this girl is with him?” I showed her Lisa’s headshot.

Cookie squinted at the picture and snorted. “She wishes. No, it’s a bachelor party. They were here last night too, but they left early. So we’ve got to make this quick. I need to be part of that action. They tip large and are real easy on the eyes. Do you want me to take my top off?” she asked, sipping on her drink.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m looking for my sister Lisa. She worked as a bartender here about a month and a half ago.” I handed her the picture so she could get a better look.

“Oh, that bitch.” Cookie sat down and crossed her legs. She took a deep pull from the drink.

Yeah, that was Lisa. I waited for an elaboration, but Cookie just frowned at her glass.

“I hate that they water the drinks down,” she said.

“I figured they’d overpour to get the customers to spend more freely.”

“Exactly.” Cookie pointed a long red nail at me. “But that’s not until later when the guys with the deep pockets come in.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Ten minutes, unless you want to pay for extra time.”

“Do you know where Lisa is now?”

Cocking her head, Cookie frowned. “I think she went over to Dalton’s on Flamingo Road.”

“Dalton’s?” I searched on my phone. “It’s another strip bar.” And it didn’t look half as upscale as this one. “Why did she go there?”

“Because she bombed her first night on the pole and Nick wouldn’t let her back on stage.”

I blinked at Cookie in disbelief. “The pole?”

Putting her drink down, Cookie walked over to the stripper pole in the room and did a graceful, lovely circle around it. Coming to a stop, she said, “Your sister was a shitty stripper.”

Miles Carvello

I watched Chance doing his Magic Mike impersonation up on the stage and couldn’t decide if I should hustle him off or take blackmail pictures on my phone. It was the second night of his friend’s bachelor party and they were bar hopping all over the place. They’d just cruised in from the Spearmint Rhino crocked out of their minds.

Highway raised his eyebrow at me, and I shook my head. Chance was attracting a crowd that was throwing money and buying drinks. After the fiasco last night with the frat boy fight, I was willing to let Chance entertain the masses while my girls made some real coin on lap dances and private shows.

I saw out of the corner of my eye that a woman was approaching me hesitantly. I was prepared to ward off a horny pass from a customer. I could see how watching Chance could work some women up. But when I turned, I knew right away that this chick was in the wrong place.

She had short blond hair and a killer body that was covered in a bland dress. She moved like a dancer, but was out of her element in the strip club. When she saw me watching her, she stumbled and then blushed. When was the last time I saw someone blush? Definitely not around here. But then Chance’s gyrations caught her attention. Her jaw dropped and she stopped dead in her tracks to goggle at him.

That pissed me off for some reason. I wasn’t the greatest looking guy in the world, but I wasn’t about to get upstaged by a pretty boy Aussie. I got between her and the stage. She had to crane her neck to look up at me.

“Can I help you, Miss?” I asked.

“Is that Chance Bateman?”

“You watch Australian football?” I scoffed in disbelief.

“No, but my sister bought a calendar with him and his teammates on it.” She tried to crane her neck around me, but I moved with her. “Let’s just say February was a popular month in our house.