Page 14 of Queen Of Clubs

I did find out that after around age twenty-five the center encourages you to meet with potential packs even if you've shown no interest in doing so beforehand.

That's not something I’m going to worry about, though; I’ll be long gone by then, building a new life for myself where I don’t need any alphas to depend on.

The only thing about staying in Vegas is I’d be an hour’s walk away from Charles and Karen.

At first, that’s what worried me, but Charles and Karen hardly leave their house. I don’t think they would be coming to the strip. This place is massive, and it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Plus, they don’t have the money to hire anyone to search for me if they wanted to.

I don’t think they would even suspect me staying here. They knew how badly I wanted to get far, far away from that house—from this town, from this state.

“You don’t have to choose now, you know.” Tara, a sweet twenty-one-year-old omega tells me. “Why not get a job first, work, and save up? Then, if you don’t see yourself staying in Vegas or the center, you have enough to start a new life.”

She’s right. I only have a few hundred bucks left. Enough to get me a ticket out of here and maybe a few nights at a shitty motel. That's not enough. I’d be living on the streets within a week.

“You’re right,” I sigh, leaning back in my seat as we eat our dinner together. “But there’s not exactly a lot of options here for jobs that omegas can do safely. I’m not looking to become a prostitute—no hate to the women who choose that life—and I don’t really have any interest in becoming a showgirl. I don’t mind the singing or the stage, but I’m not really into all that big and flashy stuff. And the hours for that job would be backbreaking.”

She chews on her lip before tucking a piece of her black hair behind her ear and leaning forward. “What if I knew a place that hires omegas only?”

“What's the catch?” I narrow my eyes in suspicion.

“It’s a job you might expect for being near the strip. There’s gambling, drinking, and dancing. And some of the omegas, ah... sleep with the clients for money.”

My brows jump. “So, a sex club?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s far more classier than a sex club. The members are all rich alphas looking to piss away money and have a good time. They vet their clients well, and the girls are not forced to sleep with anyone if that’s not what they choose. The pay is crazy good. You're not twenty-one yet, so being a bartender is off the table, but you would do well as a dancer or a waitress. You're fucking stunning, Jade, just what they would be looking for.”

A small blush takes over my cheeks at her compliment. I’ve only ever gotten them from the guys or creepy ogling men. “Do you work there?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “But my sister does. She’s been working there for a few years. She’s been trying to get me to as well, but I like my job.” She gives me a shy smile.

Tara is a preschool teacher at one of the centers a few blocks over. “And I can’t sing or dance to save my life. I’d be dropping trays of food and drinks every damn time, and I don’t know anything about making drinks. That job would not be for me.” She sticks her hand in her pocket and pulls out a card. “Here. If you’re interested.”

I take it from her and read the card, The High Roller.

“If you go, ask for the manager, Travis or Leisha, tell them Lola’s little sister, Tara, sent you.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Thanks.”

We change the subject, but I can’t stop thinking about the card I placed in my pocket.

When I get back to my room, I sit on my bed and stare at it for a long time. I could go, and at least check the place out. What could it hurt? If Tara was right and the money is good, why not? It could help set me up with a stable life.

“Fuck it.” I toss the card onto the bed and strip out of my clothes, heading for the bathroom.

After I’m showered, I dry my hair and do it up in loose flowing curls. I change into the best outfit I have. Cute black jeans, a maroon crop-top, and some ballet flats.

While I have asked for a few new things, I don’t feel right asking for much. Not when the center is already doing so much for me.

Once I throw on mascara, eyeliner, and some ruby-red lipstick, I head out, leaving the center for the first time.

I have my purse with me, but I only brought a twenty. In one hand, I have my phone, with the GPS set to the club, and in the other, I’m clutching one of the safety defense keychains that the center gives all the omegas.

Highly aware of my soundings, I walk down the strip. Bright lights, big buildings, and hundreds of people are all around me, but being out in the open feels more safe than being confined on a bus or cab.

The club is about a ten-minute walk, so I’m there in no time. The GPS leads me to a flashy looking place. Big gold doors where two knights in armor stand next to it. Looking up, I see the words “The High Roller.”

Taking a deep breath, I tell myself, “Here goes nothing.”

Chapter 5

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