Good Girl(24)

"What?"

"Can't he find women willing to have sex with him for free? Clearly I would. Look at him."

"Well, you know what they say."

"What do they say?"

"Men like that, they're not paying for sex. They're paying for her to leave after."

Wow. That's really sad.

"You know he's gonna want anal, right?" Payton adds.

"I assumed so," I reply with a shrug.

"Don't worry," Payton says breezily. "I'm gonna make you a 'butt stuff' badge."

"You're a good friend."

"I really am," Payton agrees, rattling the ice in her drink.





When we arrive at Double Diamonds and step inside it's not what I expected, not at all. It's as awkward as I'd expected, two women walking into a strip club before noon. We're immediately asked if we'd like applications.

"I'd like to speak to the owner," I reply, doing my best to sound confident.

"Me too," Payton adds and I give her the side eye because I'm not sure if she's supporting me or if she actually wants an application.

It's my lucky day because it turns out that the owner, Vince, is here. And he's willing to give us fifteen minutes.

As we're escorted through the club to Vince's office, I take in my surroundings. I expected it to be dark with an elevated stage in the center of the room outlined with neon lighting. There is a stage, of course. There are three of them, each smaller than I'd envisioned in my mind. The chairs are so much closer to the stages than I'd imagined too. Overall the place feels more like a buffalo wing bar than a house of ill repute. If buffalo wing bars had poles, obviously. There's a pretty blonde dancing for a man sitting alone. He's drinking coffee, his eyes never leaving her body as we pass. I wonder what brought him to a strip club by himself before lunch, but seeing that I'm here for my own nefarious reasons I'm in no position to judge.

Once we're seated in Vince's office, Payton breaks the ice with her signature chitchat while my heart races a million miles an hour. I focus on my surroundings and take a deep breath while I summon the courage to ask what I want to ask. The office has an oddly comforting vibe. Safe. There's not a neon light to be had or needed, as natural sunlight streams in from the oversized windows lining an entire wall. The office décor is nondescript corporate. I'd think I'd just wandered into a law office, if law offices had lobbies with poles in them.

"So, do you have multiple girlfriends?" Payton dives right in with her own agenda after we've been offered coffee by a woman who's got to be in her sixties. I fleetingly wonder if they advertised for that position on a job board or if they promoted her from within.

"Excuse me?" Vince replies, eyebrows raised in question, clearly confused if he's misheard Payton or simply misjudged the audacity she's capable of.

"You know, like Hugh Hefner did?"

"I run a gentleman's club in Vegas, not a lifestyle magazine."

"Same thing. Anyway, do you? Because Rhys is gonna fall in love with Lydia and they'll move in together and yadda yadda yadda. I'll have to get a new roommate and I'm not sure I can be bothered to vet someone new right now. So I'd be open to being girlfriend number three. I don't want to be girlfriend one or two, it sounds like too much responsibility, you know? Also I'd like my own room. Is that how you do it? Do the girlfriends all get their own rooms? That's how Hef did it. Do you have a nice place? Because I'm not sharing you if you live in a shitty condo with coin-operated laundry."

"Are you serious?" Vince narrows his eyes at her, as if he can't tell if Payton is indeed serious or simply fucking with him, and Vince doesn't look like a man used to being fucked with. I find most people have this reaction to her, so I'm used to it. For the record, she's rarely joking when she's saying something ridiculous.

"Serious as a shark," she replies without blinking.

"That's not even a thing." Vince brings a cup of coffee to his lips, eyeing her over the rim. "The saying is 'serious as a heart attack.'"

"Like sharks aren't serious?" She leans forward, her eyes narrowed. "You try swimming with a shark and then tell me how not-serious they are."

"You know he slept with all of them, right?"

"Duh," Payton replies, completely nonplussed about the sleeping arrangements of a man and his multiple girlfriends.

"You're really something, aren't you?" Vince asks, still looking at her as if he's not sure what to make of her.

"I'm a lot of things. It's true." Payton beams as if he's just paid her a compliment. I'm honestly not sure what his feelings are about her because his expression isn't giving away much. But if I had to guess, he's not inviting Payton to be girlfriend number one, two or three anytime soon.

"Vince," I say, squaring my shoulders and interrupting before Payton gets us kicked out. I take a deep breath. I can do this. I can, I can, I can. "I have a proposition for you."

He takes his eyes off of Payton and levels me with the full force of his attention and I have a fleeting worry about who exactly I'm dealing with. He could be a mobster, couldn't he? He owns a strip club—gentleman's club, whatever—in the heart of Las Vegas. He might have ties to organized crime. Or loan sharks or hitmen. I don't know this man or what he's involved in. I doubt he's leading a church youth group on the weekends, I assume that much. And I'm sure he's not someone to mess with. Not that I'm messing with him, I'm not. I'm serious. But it doesn't mean I'm not in way over my head.