Things We Do in the Dark(72)

Fleur, one of the VIP cocktail waitresses, brought over a tray of shots.

“You ordered ten?” one of the guys said. His expression was glazed as he watched Fleur place them on the table, his words heavy and slurred. “But there’s only eight of us.” Thersh only eight of ush.

“That’s because these two are for the ladies.” Jack—or was it Jake?—handed Joey and Fleur their own shots, and then he looked around the table with a grin. “Bottoms up, motherfuckers.”

Joey exchanged a look with Fleur, who shrugged and slammed hers back like it was nothing. Joey followed suit, the liquid searing its way down the back of her throat. She found whiskey revolting. The taste and smell reminded her of Tito Micky.

But those were Joey’s memories, and Joey wasn’t here tonight.

She leaned over Jack-or-Jake, her barely covered breasts right in his face. “How about a private dance while we’re waiting for your friend?” she said into his ear.

“Not so fast, baby,” he said with a grin. “I want to see what I’m getting first.”

He pulled out his wallet and made a big show of extracting a twenty. Every group had a guy who wanted to show off to his buddies. She picked up the twenty and cocked an eyebrow.

“Sweetie, this won’t even get my dress off.”

All the guys at the table laughed as Joey held his gaze. It was an unspoken challenge, and they all knew it.

He replaced the twenty with a fifty. “What does this buy me?”

She smiled at him just as the song changed. Prince’s “Kiss” started playing, which was perfect, because not only was the song the exact right tempo, it was only three and a half minutes long.

Showtime.

Keeping her eyes on Jack-or-Jake, she began moving her body. She knew she wasn’t the best dancer—Cherry had said as much during her audition—but she’d worked hard to improve over the past year. In any case, it didn’t matter all that much. There were naked women all over the club, and any of them could move just fine. The thing that made it special—the thing that made the customer want more—was how you made him feel.

And that was Ruby’s specialty.

The hoots and cheers of the guys at the table were loud at first, but they got further away as Ruby took over. Joey’s mind began to drift. She reminded herself to try Mae again on her break, assuming she even got a break tonight. Cherry had been made aware of the locker break-in but had declined to call the cops, not wanting to scare off the customers on a big money night. She felt Jack-or-Jake’s hand on her thigh and absently moved it away. Nice try, asshole. Not for fifty bucks.

She peeled off her dress, placing the gold fabric around his neck like a scarf while his buddies cheered. Her bikini top came off next, and she tossed it onto the table, where three of the guys immediately grabbed for it. Then she picked up the last whiskey shot, the one that was meant for the guy who was getting married tomorrow who wasn’t even here. She poured it over her breasts, rubbing the liquid into her bare nipples.

“Oh my God,” she heard someone say. “That’s so fucking hot.”

She looked into Jack-or-Jake’s eyes, allowing her tongue to trace the contours of her top lip. His pupils were fully dilated, and they looked like raisins, which reminded her that she needed to go grocery shopping. She stepped out of her G-string and was now fully nude except for her necklace and heels. She could see Jack-or-Jake’s erection straining against the crotch of his jeans, and she turned around so she didn’t have to look at it. Slowly—because everything had to be done slowly—she bent all the way forward until her hair touched the floor and she could grab her ankles. She sighed with pleasure as the pendant from her necklace hit her chin; this was such a good hamstring stretch. At Cherry’s suggestion, she’d taken up yoga to improve her strength and flexibility, and it was amazing how many stripper moves were actually yoga moves. Right now she was practicing prasarita padottanasana, or wide-legged forward fold—except she was naked, with her ass in someone’s face.

Behind her, she could feel Jack-or-Jake’s hands lightly touching her butt, but this time she decided to allow it, since the Prince song was about to end. The more turned on he was, the more he’d want to go private. She began to roll herself back up again, engaging both her legs and core to keep the movements sensual. This was a hard enough move on a mat in yoga class, let alone on a hard floor, with a whiskey shot in her, wearing stilettos.

As soon as she straightened up fully, she saw him.

He was coming out of the hallway where the bathrooms were, as tall and lean as ever, same familiar gait, blue Nokia cell phone in one hand. Even in the dim light, she could tell he looked different. The twists were gone, the goatee was gone; he was clean-shaven now, with a simple fade. The shorter hair made his face look more chiseled. The glasses were new as well, rectangular-framed and stylish.

But it was unmistakably, undeniably Drew.

Her first instinct was to run, duck, or throw herself under the table, basically anything so he wouldn’t see her. But her feet wouldn’t step forward, her head wouldn’t turn away, her hands wouldn’t cover her face. All she could do was stand there, naked, her breasts still moist from the whiskey, utterly frozen.

And then he saw her.

Recognition bloomed on his face as his gaze darted from her eyes to her breasts to her crotch to the new tattoo on her thigh he was seeing for the first time, and then back up again. Recognition turned into shock, and shocked morphed into confusion. If a hole were to suddenly open up in the floor, she would have gladly dropped into it. Because anything was better than the way Drew was looking at her right now.