Slade (The Protectors #6)(61)

Chapter 18

“I’m Cherry.” The beautiful redhead grinned, and then flipped her red hair. “I know, not very original, but the men love it. So, is Lola your stage name?”

Jill nodded. “Not very original.” She scrunched her nose with a smile.

“It’s fine,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “Most of these men don’t care what our names are anyway, but if they like you, then they request you by name.”

Jill sat on a small stool, setting her bag down. “So how does this work exactly?” When Cherry looked over at her, Jill cleared her throat. “I’ve worked at some pretty shitty clubs, nothing compared to this.”

Cherry nodded. “It’s very different. Unless you have a request right away from a regular, you get assigned. Men will either request you to dance on their table or Hicks will assign you a table.”

“Hicks?” Jill asked, her eyes roaming around watching the women get ready and wondered if she should also. Talk about feeling out of place. This was so far from her comfort zone, Jill felt like she was having an out-of-body experience.

“Yeah, you’ll meet him.” Cherry frowned, rolling fishnet stockings up her legs. “He’s okay, but likes to touch.”

“I thought no one was allowed to touch us.” Jill frowned, not liking this at all. If someone actually touched her, she would have to keep control by not kicking his ass.

Cherry laughed. “We have security out there.” She nodded her head the way Jill had come in. “But back here, we fend for ourselves with some of the staff. Though Hicks might not mess with you.”

“Yeah, well, I hope not.” Jill stood back up, nervous energy flowing through her body.

“Hey, Pixie!” Cherry yelled.

A pretty girl with long blonde hair turned, her golden eyes glowed. “What?”

“Hicks bother you anymore?” Cherry turned, focusing on adjusting her boobs.

“Not since I threatened to tear his throat out.” Pixie smiled, baring sharp fangs.

All the women laughed and Pixie winked. “You’ll be fine, breed, just flash him some fang. He’ll leave you alone.”

Jill gave a shaky laugh.

“You’ll be fine,” Cherry grinned. “Just don’t get caught back here alone. Now, get changed. We’re about ready to go on.”

Her stomach pitched violently and she prayed to God she didn’t vomit again. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Back there, honey, but hurry.” Cherry fluffed her hair. “Hailey hates when we go on stage late.”

Jill nodded, hurrying toward the bathroom, trying not to kill herself with her damn high heels. Why women wore the damn things was beyond her. She was going to burn them as soon as she was finished with this job and enjoy every minute of it. Once inside, she locked the door and wobbled to the sink to glare into the mirror, her stomach pitching violently.

“Jill, you okay?” Sloan’s voice sounded in her ear.

Before Jill could say anything, nausea hit her hard and she turned, running to the toilet. The groans sounding off in her ear let her know they were getting an awesome look and audio of her vomiting. Once she was finished, she went to the sink, rinsed her mouth out before checking her makeup.

“Jill…” This time it was Slade’s voice.

“I’m fine.” Jill smoothed her hair down, unbuttoned her blouse and began to undress.

“Well, I’d just like to say I’m glad I missed that little performance with the toilet bowl on the monitor, yet still, it sounded absolutely disgusting.” Sid’s voice filled her ear.

“Hey, Sid.” Jill kept her voice low.

“Yeah, hon.” Sid’s voice turned serious as if he was there if she needed him.

“Shut the f*ck up.” The laughter made her feel better, as if they were in the room and everything was going to be okay. “And, Sloan, I want a raise…a big one when I start getting paid.”

Laughter echoed in her ear as she opened the door and walked out. More women, who Jill figured had been out the front dancing when she came in, filled the back dressing room. A large man stood in the middle holding a sheet of paper, his eyes scanning the women.

“Hot damn, Lola.” Cherry pulled her over after Jill shoved her clothes in her bag. “I love that outfit. Where’d you get it and what colors did it come in.”

“You can talk girl crap after your shift, Cherry.” The man had walked up, his eyes checking Jill out as if she was his next snack. “Who are you?”

“Lola.” Jill kept her voice firm. She knew this guy’s type. He fed on the weak.

His eyes grossly ran over her body again before searching his paper. “You take table six. Everybody else has their regulars except for Monica who is at table three, and Pepper you’re at table eight.”

“Ah, sorry about your luck.” A woman, with short black hair patted her on the arm. “He’s in rare form tonight.”

“George?” Cherry frowned, shaking her head. “Well, hey, he might be good for your first night to break you in. He doesn’t demand much other than talking.”

“Talking?” Jill acted like the newbie she was. “We didn’t do much talking with the customers at the other clubs I’ve worked for.”