Careful What You Kiss For (18 page)

“On it.” What did Gemini the cat know? She wasn’t doing so badly.

Pepper sauntered over to another table, boobs bobbing, while Tensley got busy making the drinks. Terrible Tawny left the stage and two other women took her place, each grabbing a pole to call her own.

A few hours later, Tensley had faked her way through most of the requested drinks, covering her lack of knowledge with generous amounts of alcohol. One customer ordered several rounds of rum and coke. Probably because she made it with two-thirds rum and one-third coke.

The only thing that mattered, though, was getting information for Max — wherever or however she had to do it. As busy as she was, she continued to look around the club, watching for anything that seemed unusual. One problem. She didn’t know what
usual
was here.

“Hey.” Tensley flagged Milo down. “I need a break.”

He hesitated, casting his gaze around the darkness.

“Seriously. I do. Or it’s not going to be pretty.” She raised an eyebrow.

Milo jerked his head. “Go on. I’ll watch the bar.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed her purse before he could change his mind and began weaving her way toward the back of the club, staying close to the walls to be as inconspicuous as possible. Probably didn’t matter, she realized. Who would be looking at her when there were nude and semi-nude women all over the place?

About halfway across the club, she came to a private area lit in blue, with a sultry, slow-moving dancer and a man sitting in the shadows, watching
. Oh hell
. Her stomach knotted at the memory of her and Max, locked into that same horrible, thrilling dance.

She touched her fingers to the wall to steady herself, breathing in the potent scent of lust and sweat mingled with perfume, hating herself for almost,
almost
wishing she was back inside there with Max.

There was so much about this new life she was going to have to forget.

Keep moving, she told herself. Eyes straight ahead. At least she wasn’t attracting attention. All eyes that weren’t riveted on Pepper’s bouncing boobs were focused on the dueling dancers on stage.

No one was guarding the black curtain that shielded the dancers’ dressing room. Tensley reached up to pull it back and slip inside.

She saw that same long green hallway, nicked and bruised by passing cigarettes and careless people. Not far down, the door with the paper gold star. As softly as she could in four-inch stilettos, she crept past the door, glancing behind her every few steps to make sure no one saw or followed her.

On the right, a women’s restroom, where someone had endowed the stick figure on the sign with generous breasts. Next to it, a men’s bathroom with a similar drawn-in enhancement, this time of a penis long enough to do serious damage.

Even the restroom signs in this place were X-rated.

Further down was the exit door she’d opened onto the street after that disastrous time on stage. She took a deep breath, fighting the temptation to slam through it a second time. If she was fast enough, she might be able to outrun this outrageous life and leap back into her new one.

Her brain was a millisecond away from giving the order to hit the door and run when she spotted something she hadn’t seen that night. Another hallway, more dimly lit. She did a Scooby-Doo double-take. This could be important. This could lead to Gary’s office.

Another glance over her shoulder told her no one else was around. Yet.

Tensley crossed quickly into the second hallway, where she spotted two closed doors. Pulse throbbing in her ears, she laid her fingers on the first door, pressing her ear against the wood. Nothing. She tried the knob, but it didn’t turn. Locked.

Then she heard the sound of a male voice, echoing off the walls in the first hallway. With a shudder, she registered who belonged to that half-snarl, half-grunt. Gary. He’d probably been the one who’d drawn the penis on the restroom sign, as some sort of delusional personal marketing campaign.

The voice was coming closer. “I am not gonna tell you again,” Gary said. “Don’t fuck with the business.”

Tensley squinted in the half-light. It was so dark, she couldn’t see if the hallway was a dead end or led somewhere else. She darted away from the first door and on to the second.

She heard another familiar voice. “But Pop,” Razor pleaded. “It was a good idea.”

Relief washed through her when the knob turned in her hand. She opened the door and ducked inside a pitch-black room. Then she closed the door without a sound and leaned her back against it, hands splayed.

Seconds later, she heard the rattle of keys and the sound of someone entering the room next to her. Gary was talking again, but she couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Inch by inch, she scooted her back along the door, feeling with her right hand for the wall. If she could get closer, she should be able to hear.

No wall, yet. She sidled her body closer, leaving the relative safety of the door frame, and stretched her arm full length. Air … air …
there
. A solid surface. She scooted over and put her ear to it.

Gary spoke again, his voice higher, angrier. “That’s what you call a good idea. Putting girls in bikinis in a fucking hardware store?”

Tensley drew her brows together. A guy who ran a strip club had a problem with girls in bikinis?

Razor’s voice also rose. “Brought in more customers in one day than we had all last month.”

“Let me take a guess here, Einstein. You’re thinkin’ those guys are actually coming back once their wives find out what they’ve been lookin’ at in the hardware store.”

That must have stopped Razor, because all she heard was something that sounded like Gary dropping hard into a chair.

It took a minute, but Razor rebounded. “Hell, yes, they’ll be back. Not every guy has a wife and if they do, they’re not gonna tell her. I’m only doin’ this one day a week. Callin’ it Wiggle Wednesdays.”

Even through the wall, Tensley could hear the note of pride in Razor’s voice.

Something slammed together hard. Gary’s fist on the desk? Razor’s head — she hoped not — against the door?

Then she heard Gary’s voice again, lower, more menacing this time. “Listen to me. And listen good. I do not pay you to think of ideas. I do not pay you to put girls in bikinis in my hardware store. Hell, if you weren’t my son, you wouldn’t be there in the first place.”

Sympathy rippled through Tensley. No one deserved to be talked to like that.

Gary went on. “I pay you to show up and make sure the place sells its fucking screws, hammers and nails.”

She heard what sounded like a nervous laugh from Razor. “Speaking of screws, one of the girls had this funny idea for a sign — ”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Gary thundered, hurting even Tensley’s ear. She backed away from the wall.

Razor mumbled something she couldn’t make out, but it sounded apologetic. Tensley leaned in again.

“You want the cops sniffing around the place? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“I made sure it was legal,” Razor offered, but Tensley could practically see him cringing. “And I stopped the guy who was tryin’ to put a tip in Tiffany’s — ”

“Oh, that’s just perfect. You asked somebody if it was legal? Somebody else. But not me. The damn owner of the place.”

Interesting. Gary owned a hardware store.

Razor mumbled something Tensley couldn’t hear. She turned her whole body to the wall where her elbow knocked into something metal and sharp. She stifled a yelp of pain. As she reached out her other hand, to cup her injured elbow, it, too, hit the metal object, knocking something off what had to be a shelf. It fell to the floor with a soft thud.

Silence on the other side of the wall.
Ouch
. She could feel wetness on her skin. Great. Her elbow must be bleeding.

And she smelled soap.

She took a step back in the darkness and slipped on liquid, her feet going out from under her to crash into the metal shelf. Unable to suppress a cry this time, she landed hard on her backside, legs flailing. The shelf hit the floor next, with a screech of rickety metal and thuds of whatever objects it had held.

The soap smell was so strong now, it stung her nostrils.

She coughed and then held her breath, hoping with every part of her being that Gary hadn’t heard the commotion in the room next to him.

The door flung open and an overhead light flipped on, nearly blinding her.

“What the fuck is going on?” Gary roared.

Tensley looked down to see the floor covered with liquid soap, her legs at awkward angles against the wall, her elbow bleeding, and a now-empty metal shelf on the floor beside her.

Razor’s head appeared behind Gary’s, his eyes widening.

Tensley gave him a weak smile and lifted her hand. A blob of soap dripped off her palm and onto the floor.

This was so not how things went on
Law and Order
.

Since no one was talking, Tensley thought she’d better. Gary’s face was growing redder by the minute and he had his jaw clenched so hard, she expected his teeth to begin popping out of his mouth, one by one, like Chiclets gum.

Razor tipped his head, looking perplexed.

“I needed soap,” Tensley said.

It took several seconds for Gary to loosen his jaw enough to answer. “And you didn’t turn on the light because, what? Soap glows in the dark?”

“Good one, Pop,” Razor chortled. Then he stopped, apparently realizing he might be lining up with the wrong team. “I mean, yeah, if you need soap, you’re just gonna go where the soap is and get — ”

Gary reached back to whack him. “Stop talking.”

“Ow.” Razor rubbed the spot on his arm.

Tensley lifted her chin, determined not to let Gary see the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. “I couldn’t find the light switch.”

“I hid it. Because you’re not supposed to be back here.” Gary’s singsong tone of exaggerated patience crawled up Tensley’s spine. “You need something, Milo gets it.” His eyes narrowed. “You know the rules.”

So no one but the bouncer was allowed back here. Why? She held his gaze. “Milo was busy. And I don’t leave a restroom without washing my hands.”

A little tough to pull off righteous indignation when she was sprawled on the floor, covered in liquid soap that wasn’t even the kind that smelled of pomegranates or lemons. Where did Gary buy his soap, Cheap Goo, Inc.?

Gary looked her up and down. Slowly, and with malice laced with lust. “Ri-ii-ght. You wash your hands, your ass, your — ”

“Pop!” Razor interrupted. “That’s my girl.” To his credit, he didn’t shrink away when his father shot him a venomous look.

Tensley’s fear turned to a pulsing anger. That slimeball Gary had no right to look at her like that, as if he —
owned
her. She clenched her slippery fists and forced her voice to remain even. “Speaking of rules, Gary, I saw one of the new dancers out there breaking at least three. You might want to pay some attention to that since you’re not going to need any soap if the cops shut this place down.”

She had no idea what the rules were, but there had to be at least three, just as there had to be at least one new dancer. She crossed her legs as if she had all the time and reason in the world to sit in liquid soap, breathing through her nose in short, sharp bursts.

Gary’s color turned from red to nearly purple. “Which one?”

Oops. Uh … .
“You know damn well which one,” she snapped.

She took satisfaction in the fact that he could barely choke out his next unintelligible words.

He jabbed a finger at her. “You’re paying for this mess.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Things could have gone so much worse for her.

“Get it cleaned up and get outta here,” Gary snarled, turning to leave. “Now.” Next, he jabbed his finger at Razor. “How about you get in there and help her, since she’s your girl.”

Razor lifted his hands in the air. “No problem.”

After his furious father had left the room, Razor closed the door. Then he turned toward her, running a hand through his hair. “What a … .”

“Mess. I know.” Tensley did her best to stand up, but lost the battle, her stilettos slipping and sliding across the floor. After landing hard on her butt again, she wrenched the shoes off one at a time and tossed them across the room to an area where the soap hadn’t traveled yet. “I’m not even sure how to clean it up.”

Razor walked to the edge of the soap lake and reached down with a beefy hand to help her up. He surveyed the situation. “Shelf first.”

He took off his shoes and socks, set them by the door, and waded gingerly into the whitish liquid. “Damn. Who would have thought all of these bottles would bust at once?”

“Not me,” Tensley said with a sigh.

Razor picked up the metal top of the shelf and walked it back upright. The soap began dripping down to each level in trails of cheap cleanliness.

Ever since Tensley could remember, housekeepers had taken care of anything having to do with household order. That included cleaning up messes. She ran a toe through the liquid, watching as it filled right back in again. “What do we use? A broom?”

Razor gave her a doubtful look. “Nah. That’ll make it worse.” He brightened. “Hey, I got an idea. Stay here.”

“Sure thing.” As if she could go anywhere. The stuff was already beginning to harden into a layer of film on her once super-cute jeans. She had a feeling it had gotten into her hair, though she didn’t want to check, and she was pretty sure that, should she try to move, she’d only hammer her bruised backside yet again.

At least she didn’t have to worry about her pride. It was long gone.

Razor returned in a flash, a grin on his face and a bag of kitty litter in his hands. “Your Razorman saves the day,” he announced, dumping the contents of the bag onto the soap. “Tawny thinks nobody knows about that stray cat she takes care of.”

“Tawny takes care of a stray cat. Seriously?” The woman looked like she ate nails for breakfast.

“Don’t tell nobody. She keeps it behind the stage.”

Tensley crossed her fingers over her heart. “I won’t say anything.” About the cat, anyway.