Taking Jana (Paradise South #2) (19 page)

No one ever tells them about a future. In fact, they’re scared shitless into hoping to get through
today.

“Let’s get a new move in before the crowd comes,” Jana said. She’d obviously talked enough for tonight.

*

She worked with them for an hour then let them go back and get ready while she went back to her table to collect her papers.

“You’re pretty different,” Laynie said as she came up behind her. “I mean, I’ve only worked here for a few months, but no one has ever set rules or asked about our goals or anything like that.”

“Do you want to dance for these creeps forever?”

“God no. I want to get out of my dad’s house, away from my brother and his friends”—she looked down—“and make something of myself.” Jana realized with Laynie’s words how too many girls had it far worse than Jana had ever had it. Jana’s father had never lifted a hand to her. No, he acted as if she hadn’t existed at all. And her brother, of course, saw her as a social pariah since his friends had seen her dance and called her out on it. But they’d never touched her. She would have stuck her spiked heels in their chests if they’d tried.

But this girl was obviously trapped; trapped at home and trapped at the club. “You can get out, Laynie. I did it; why the hell couldn’t you?” Jana smiled at the pretty young thing. And Jana believed what she told her. Really. Char had told Jana the same thing. And Jana had gotten out.

Laynie tilted her head to the side as if sizing up Jana’s sincerity or her sanity. The girl’s eyes asked, “Who the fuck
really
gets out of this life?” Because although she was only eighteen, the girl in front of her seemed to know that most dancers usually, and easily, drown in this life. They’d get pushed into the strip club scene at the deep end of the pool to start with—sloppy money, hard drugs, and then lines were easily blurred, and soon there were no lines at all. The back rooms were often a short cry from hooking.

“We’ll see,” Laynie said, her tone sounding older than her years. “For now, just teach me how to make more cash,” she said, back to being a teenager, smacking her pink bubble gum and linking arms with Jana. “I gotta bring home enough to replenish my dad’s stash or I’ll get a bruise that no
cover-up
can hide. No ogler’s gonna wanna see a bruised up little bitch on stage, no matter how hard I work the pole.”

“Sadly, love, they
would
wanna see it. Fucked up as it is, they absolutely would. But I wouldn’t, and I’m the one who counts,” Jana said, lowering her chin to be sure Laynie got her meaning. Jana knew it was best to stay out of these girls’ personal lives, but she wouldn’t goddamn hesitate to send the cops to Laynie’s house if the girl was being hurt, and maybe then the sexual abuse Jana suspected—but who could prove—would end, too. God, this shit was too much, too sick, too painful.

She sighed watching Laynie hop up on stage, look down at Jana and wink. “See ya lata aligata.”

“Have a great night,” Jana said with a smile. Such a sweet kid.

Jana made her way to the upper bar, to her overseeing spot. Strobes and music shot on, a few girls joined Laynie on stage, and the waitresses loaded their trays with shots ready for the doors to open. Jana watched it all happen, while, thank God, she was far from it. Above it. So illusory, though, the superficial distance. It was more bearable for her, yes, but she was also more
guilt-stricken
too––being saved from the stares. And sitting pretty up in the balcony didn’t abate the queasiness sparked by her
ever-vibrant
memory of stage dancing not too long ago. It didn’t really block out the
real-time
,
in-her
-face foul nature of any of it.

She moistened her lips, having forgotten to grab herself some water, then she flipped open the club cell and dialed the number of the first girl in the resume stack.
Water can wait.
Getting more dancers in for the weekend could not.

CHAPTER 27

“
H
ey there, beautiful,”
Johnnie whispered in her ear from behind.

He’d actually missed her. After only being in her vicinity for two nights the weekend before, he’d actually gone through withdrawals. He’d missed her scent, her smile, the quiet warmth in her voice. “Just so you know, I’m keeping the dress at my place in the City as a surprise. I’ll bring you to my place before the show so it doesn’t wrinkle on my drive over.”

She smiled, blushed, and took in a gulp of air at the same time. “Thank you. Very much. I, uh, I can’t wait to see it. But listen, I’ve been staying late with my dad every day. Do you think you could bring the dress with you? I can change at the club or at the apartment. The surprise is less of a thing than you having gotten it for me in the first place. And, of course, taking me to the show! I have never been to Lincoln Center!”

He searched her eyes, seeing the source of her discomfort was coming to his apartment in the City with him. He wouldn’t push or it would all backfire. “Sure. Of course. I’ll bring it to you at the studio. So anyway, how did your week go?”

“Fine. Good. The girls—”

“I meant, more importantly, how is your father?”

“Of course, right. So they finally moved him out of the ICU two days ago. He’ll be under close watch, though, until next Friday. Then home.” She gave him an attempt at a smile, but her wide,
fear-filled
eyes betrayed her.

“Don’t you want your dad out of the hospital?”

“Honestly, it’s almost safer for him to stay in. It’s not cheaper…but it’s safer. My mom is a pushover, and my father is a damn steamroller. I’m worried he’ll be back to his old habits and get sick again. Or worse. Really what he needs is
in-homecare
, but…” She looked away. Definitely hiding her emotion, trying so hard to be strong, but she didn’t have to do that with him. She could crumble, and he’d catch her. He’d sweep her up, take her home, and devour her.

But she stepped away from him and went to sit. Had she read his thoughts, his face? God, was he that transparent? His infatuation had been buried for years, and having her come knocking at his door in such desperation, he really couldn’t expect his passion for her to stay completely in check.

But fucking put it in check, damn it!
He needed to stay conscious of it to keep from scaring her away. It would take time to bring her around, organically, naturally. And he had three months. Plenty of time. But could his
lusting-fucking
-cock wait that long? Not a fucking chance.

Wednesday.
Wednesday he’d get her alone, out of this context, this
neon-lit
tease-of
-
a-whorehouse
that he ran. He’d make her know what she could have. With him.

“Listen, if he needs home care, I can take care of that for y—”

“Please don’t. Don’t even say it. I can’t take your money, not without working for it. The advance was as far as my pride will let me go. God, you’re too generous, Johnnie.”

“Absolutely. No, I understand. Let’s just see what happens then. Wait for him to be released from the hospital.”

“Yes, right.” She shifted in her chair and held her purse close to her, tight to her chest, her perfectly pert breasts.

He came around his desk and sat next to her in the other armchair. Time to change the subject. He smiled at her and said, “So, how did the training and hiring go?”

She angled her body toward him, relaxing into the new topic. “Good. Really good. The girls that are left are working hard. Some have even started choreographing combo routines.”

“Terrific. How many left of the thirty?”

“Fourteen.”

“Wow. So you’ve lined up a bunch more to vet?”

“Well, that’s been a slower process, just haven’t loved the choices in the pile.”

“Just have the remaining girls bring in their friends.” It wasn’t hard. They all had slutty, sexy,
hard-up
losers they associated with. The only hurdle with that route was that the catty little bitches didn’t always want to
help
bring in more competition. They’d love to work every shift. But then he’d be at their mercy. And what if one got hurt or drugged up and tripped out? The key to getting their little whore friends is to incentivize; free drinks or drugs, and they’ll bring dozens of ’em.

God, had Jana been out of the business so long she didn’t remember the ways of the industry? Because he couldn’t run a busy weekend—that should get exponentially busier, fast—with only fourteen girls.

“What do you think?” he asked, getting no response from her.

But Jana only looked down, like she had some reservation. She kept silent.

“Or hey, you can steal a few girls from the competition; the entire avenue is fair game.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll do that.” She perked up. “And I do have a couple of girls coming in from the stack today, but I’ll hit a few of the spots down the avenue on Sunday night.”

“Best to get on it tonight in preparation for tomorrow night’s volume. I’ve never run under twenty girls on a Saturday. Don’t you remember how crazy it got last weekend? And it only stands to get busier after they see what you’ve done with them.” He smiled, taking care to keep a soft tone and intentionally padding her ego.

But it worried him. Had she really planned to lead him into a weekend—busy, busier, or slow as hell—with only fourteen strippers on? He couldn’t fill the stage and the lap dance demand with that. He should have checked in with her earlier in the week about the number of dancers. It was his own fault.

She nodded at him, her eyes slightly morose, but she gave him a subtle smile.

“Good. Let’s grab our table in the mezzanine and watch from up there for a while before you head to the clubs down the way. I can’t wait to see the changes in the girls we have left.”

They walked down from his office and made a beeline to the upper loft. He got her talking about the week to lift her mood. She told him about the dancers who’d stayed and the push back they still gave, but that it was lightening up.

“If they get a bump in their money tonight, I guarantee they’ll be kissing your ass tomorrow.”

“We’ll see about that. Between the training schedule and the new rules I had them sign off on—”

“What? Sign off? New rules for the club?”

“Yeah, a
no-tolerance
policy for drug possession—so far. As far as
use
, I know giving UIs is a whole legal issue, not something I could touch without talking to you first. But I do need them clean and healthy, punctual, and on it, you know? I need them to keep away from that shit.”

He checked himself to be sure he was breathing evenly and shoved his hand into his front pocket to be sure his bag of coke was flat against his leg. She’d implemented what? He damn supplied and used with all the girls in the club.

“Yeah, of course. They need to be focused. I’m, uh, just not sure how well it can be enforced, you know? They’re independent contractors, and we can’t really legally or logistically check what’s in their purses or bags each shift. Plus, they relax up there on stage when they’re—”

“Johnnie, you know you can get in some serious shit if you look the other way. And for the girls, it’s better for them. Staying clean…they stay healthy, they dance better, longer.”

“Their health?”
Fuck their health!
But he caught himself.
Breathe.
“God, you’re right, of course. And that’s better for business.” For his father’s fucking business, that is. Not his underground coke ring, for fuck’s sake. “I know it is. Like I know my investment in you was the best move I could’ve made.”

She was facing him now, eyes searching him, for sincerity.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re right, Jana.”

“Good, I’m so glad you see it the same way. And I had them all sign a statement, so you’re covered, the club is covered, no worries.” She’d had these W9s sign a statement?
Jesus Christ.
His dad would fucking flip if he found out. No records were kept on the strippers. None. Because no taxes were paid on them. Really,
none
. The girls did their own taxes and that was the industry’s way. Only bouncers and bartenders were on the payroll. No fucking dancers! That’s what was reported by the club. And that was all.

He took a deep breath and kept his smile plastered on his face, and he infused as much calm into his expression as he could muster. “Let’s grab a seat, and we can talk more. The place is already filling up. That’s awesome, right?” He ended on as light a note as he could to mask his worry for Jana’s
t-crossing
and
i-dotting
frenzy in week one.

But as he followed her up the stairs, watching her firm ass cheeks wag and tease him with each step, he was immediately hypnotized. So goddamn fine, right in his face. He could pound the fuck out of her right then and there. He wanted to pull her down on his lap and he didn’t care who saw, who watched. Actually, the more fantasizing assholes who watched him fuck her to heaven, the better. Because, fuck them, they couldn’t have her. She was all his. Or would be.

And you know what?
Fuck his father too. Fuck the right paperwork and the wrong rules. His family had so much money they didn’t know what to do with it all. Now it was a matter of showing his father up, making that cocksucker see how he could bring in bigger cash, more than Jake Demonte, king of the clubs, ever could. So what if Johnnie’s cocaine sales wouldn’t be easy and flowing at The Wet Spot now? He’d hit the other clubs’ dancers, which was even better, smarter.

Jana’s way might really be the best way.

*

He pulled Jana’s chair out then sat down across from her. “I trust you, Jana. I know your intentions and your methods are right, businesswise. It’s just my father, and the industry in general…. There has only been one way of doing things, you know? I know you know. But I’m with you, though. I hired you, after all. I’m glad you’ve been making the changes you have been. Keep me posted, but I’ve got your back. I do.”

She looked at him, head cocked to the side, grinning from ear to ear. “I know you have my back, Johnnie.” She let out a giggle like she didn’t have a clue what he was going on about.

God, had he shown no worry, expressed no issue with any of the shit she’d unloaded on him about club business? Had he really thought it all in his head and hid his frustration? Not a sign of it showed through?

Damn, he was good. Better than he thought.

“Good, just making sure. I know your father doesn’t always have
your
back, so I wanted to make sure you know that I do.” He smiled and took her hand in his. “I really do.”

*

She’d never mentioned how her family treated her to Johnnie. She was super conscious of not discussing her parents, her brother, any of it, only the state of her dad’s health. But maybe she had? Her mind had been all over the place, so who knows? She watched Johnnie head to the bar since the bartender and waitresses were obviously slammed, and she turned her attention to the girls on stage. Laynie and Didi were on the poles, and the guys were eating them up. She smiled and looked up at Johnnie as he returned with drinks.

“Should we? I’m supposed to head out to find more girls.”

“Have one or two with me before you head out. I’m going to Merrick again for the week. It’s nice to sit with you when I can.”

Johnnie slammed a double and then another an instant later. He had turned absolutely pale when she mentioned the signed drug statements. She thought he’d be psyched that the girls wouldn’t be putting the business in jeopardy and that they’d be more professional, dance better, and, well, bring in more money for the club. He’d tried to hide his sudden concern, but she could see right through it. Now, after his ‘got your back’ speech, she felt better, like he’d thought it out.

He was more similar to her than she’d thought. He seemed to be living under his father’s shadow, just never good enough. She hardly agreed with her own father’s ways but was torn by loyalty. Johnnie Demonte seemed to have the exact same issue, and now he was taking the risk, going with his gut, going with Jana.

She took one of the two shots, then excused herself, saying she had to use the restroom, but she only wanted to escape the second shot with him. Again, cleaner lines, although the liquid relaxation could have been helpful with her next task. She hated the idea of scouting for girls, let alone stealing them from other clubs. But she’d at least not be roping new ones into the business.

She made her way back to the table a few minutes later, and Johnnie was on the phone. He was speaking in a low voice, his eyes seemed defeated like he was being chastised, a boy in trouble. She stayed back, pretending to take a call herself, then walked away, downstairs, her escape from embarrassing him and from taking that second drink. She wanted to check on the girls anyway and then get out of there. The quicker she hit the other clubs, the quicker she’d be done for the night. The quicker she’d get to sleep.

Chastity, one of the oldest dancers to stay, came up to Jana with a name and number of a friend of hers who’d professionally danced and needed real money. “I’ve made more tonight than over the entire last month.” And then she walked away.

Jana smiled at the passive thank you, then made eye contact with Laynie, who was upside down in an Inverted ‘V’ on the pole, stage left. The girl was glowing, green bills hanging from her
G-string
the whole way around her tight little waist.

Jana didn’t feel the same kinetic energy flow she got when she saved a life in her ER, not by any means, but she did feel a small wave of something good rise up to her cheeks, that the training, that she,
was
making a difference.

She pulled out the phone Johnnie had given her and texted him that she’d see him tomorrow night, that she was heading out to scout for, and to steal, more girls.