Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(35)

I hadn’t asked where the dancers kept their keys while working, but I burned with curiosity.

“No, guest dancers don’t use that area.” Dave paused, studying me, then asked, “Have you been inside the dressing room?”

I shook my head.

“It’s not one big room like you might think. There is a shared area where house costumes are kept, a couple of big mirrors, emergency sewing and makeup supplies, that sort of stuff. But that’s not half of it. The whole space is as big as the kitchens, bigger probably. Past the shared area, each of the regular dancers has their own changing room with a door that also locks.”

“Wow.” That seemed like a lot of privacy for people who were mostly naked in a professional capacity.

“For any dancer who isn’t regularly on the schedule, Hank repurposes his office and the office you’re using. He doesn’t want his core dancers to be made uncomfortable by the presence of new people and there’s only so many private rooms with locks back there.”

“Does Hank have his own dressing room?”

“I don’t think so.” Dave scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know, actually. Ask Tina. She’s been here the longest. The offices don’t have the bell system like the main dressing area does, but they have keys, so they’re kept locked during those events that require guest dancers. It’s a whole system and he gets really tense about it.” Dave laughed lightly, giving me the sense he found Hank being tense amusing.

“He’s so exacting about everything,” I commiserated, but I didn’t find Hank being tense amusing. It stressed me out.

“I don’t know.” Dave shrugged. “It makes sense once you get to know how he runs things. He’s strict with the dancers and everyone else. The rules are spelled out, and he never bends them, no matter who asks. At first, I thought it was because he got off on controlling everyone. But once I found out about his history, I think he’s so harsh because he understands the nature of the business? These people who come in here, they’d take advantage of the dancers if they thought they could get away with it. With Hank in charge, they know they can’t, so they don’t even try.”

I cocked my head to the side, studying the barrel-chested bouncer. “You sound like you approve.”

“I do. Makes my job easy, doesn’t it?” Dave walked a few steps backward toward his own car. “This isn’t the first strip club I’ve worked at, but it is by far the safest.”





Tina, Hannah, Hope, Fiona, Jiff, Piper, Everly, Laney, Susannah, April, Kilby, Jenny, Sita, Mary, Brooke, and . . . Emma? Darn it. I couldn’t remember the last one’s name. It was either Emma or Ella and I didn’t want to ask.

Repeating the dancers’ names in my head over and over, I strolled down the hallway mid-afternoon on Thursday and paused at the door leading to the dressing rooms.

I’d taken for granted that Hank possessed a key since he was the owner of the club. But as I hesitated outside the door, my finger hovering above the button that would ring the bell, I questioned whether he had a key at all. I’d never seen him entering the dressing room or hovering anywhere near it.

Then again, according to Dave, Hank was one of the dancers and possibly had his own dressing room inside.

Hmm.

Shaking myself from the irrelevant thought detour, I rang the bell. Then I folded my hands, stepped back, and waited.

“Who is it?” came a voice from beyond the door.

“It’s Charlotte. I—I brought—”

I didn’t get to finish my sentence before the door was pulled open, revealing a tall, lean, tan, platinum blond, white woman with a bold, square jaw and lovely blue-green eyes. “Well, hello! Come on in,” April said, waving me forward with a smile.

When I met April last week, she told me how she was originally from northern California. She’d spent some time in the film industry out there but ultimately preferred a career where she dictated how and when people touched her, and she loved working for herself.

“About that—I brought a fruit tray and it’s in the breakroom. I wanted to say thanks to y’all for the warm welcome and to give you ladies a heads-up that it’s in there.”

“Stay right there,” she told me. So I did. April had this aura about her. Maybe it was her height—three inches taller than my five-foot-ten-inches—or maybe it was the forthright cadence of her voice or the direct way she looked everyone straight in the eye, but when April told you to do something, you did it.

“Hey! Lovelies!” she shouted, turning her head slightly. “Charlotte brought food and it’s in the breakroom. Come and get it!”

A chorus of Awww and Thank you, Charlotte! and Yay! and Food?! I love food! greeted our ears, making April and me laugh.

“Can she bring it back here?” Everly poked her head around the corner and pushed her glasses higher on her nose. Giving me a small wave, she whispered, “I skipped lunch and I’m starving. But I’m trying on new outfits and my shift starts in an hour.” The curvaceous dancer widened her eyes with mock panic. “Do you mind, Charlotte?”

“Not at all. Let me go grab it.” I tossed a thumb over my shoulder.

“Thank you. You’re such a sweetie.” Her sandy-blond head disappeared and I blinked at the spot where she’d been. I’d only ever seen Everly in brightly colored wigs before now.