Page 13 of Love In The Shadows

Richie was sitting in the same place he’d occupied the night before, a cigar in his hand. Across from him a new guy I’d never seen. Dark suit, black-rimmed glasses, and a hell of a lot of suspicions.

It didn’t feel right—I didn’t feel right.

Richie chuckled as I strode across the room. “What’s the matter with you, Starr? You look like you just saw a fuckin’ ghost.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tori

It was odd how I could be smack dab in the middle of Hollywood’s hottest underground club, surrounded by so many people, and still feel so incredibly alone. There wasn’t another feeling quite like being in the middle of a crowd—yet aching with loneliness. But that was my daily reality, ever since I moved to the Los Angeles area almost a year ago.

You’d think by now I’d be well-adjusted and happy, living it up and enjoying the new opportunities I’d found along the way.

Yeah, not so much.

Still, being at work was better than being home alone in my tiny apartment that barely had enough room to turn around. West L.A. rental prices were enough to make your eyes bleed.

Working the bar at Parkston’s was a better paying job than most other bars in Hollywood. Parkston’s was very exclusive and only allowed members who were of a certain…caliber. Meaning, flush. And, given the nature of the club, most of the men—and some of the women—who came in were more than willing to hand over wads of cash and flash their black AMEX cards to show their appreciation of my assets.

At least I didn’t have to take my damn clothes off. Sure, working in a sex club required a certain dress code, but all the important bits were covered. Reed and Paige Parkston kept things classy. There were no stripper poles, go-go cages, or pools of jello. It was a stark contrast to the last place I worked.

When I left Kentucky, I worked at a little hole-in-the-wall bar in downtown Los Angeles. One day, the owner—a real shithead—decided he was losing too much money and gave the place a facelift. Which included—you guessed it: jello pools, stripper poles, and a lot of strobe lights.

He said I didn’t have to strip—although I was a professional dancer. But when my income shrank even further than what it had been before the remodel, I took to the stage one night to make a little extra cash. I began my descent down a slippery slope into a life I hated.

Then Reed and Paige found me, two knights in shining armor with white horses to boot. I didn’t know what they were doing at a skanky L.A. nightclub, but it didn’t matter. I was just thankful they showed up. After I served them drinks, before taking the stage for my turn, we got to talking. By the end of the night, they offered me a job.

At first, I didn’t know what kind of club they ran, but after a little word of mouth research, I discovered that Parkston’s On the Hill was a sex club for millionaires—and billionaires. So, two days after that, I called them, ready to back out of their offer—imagining the worst. But Paige convinced me to at least come by and see for myself what it was all about.

By the end of that first night, I was sold. Thanks to the power of the numbers they were willing to offer as my base salary, not including tips.

Yeah, Reed and Paige were my kinky guardian angels.

“Hey, girl!”

I turned at Paige’s warm, sunshine voice as she sauntered into the back room. Paige was in a good mood. I could see it in her eyes. She and Reed had probably just finished up a little party for two in a private room. I grinned at her and cocked my head. “Having a good night?”

Paige giggled and brushed her golden curls away from her face, revealing slightly flushed cheeks. “I’m pleading the fifth.”

I laughed and looked back down at the paperwork in front of me, shaking my head slightly. I’d never met a married couple that got it on as much as they did. “You two are too much.”

Paige laughed and sat at the desk on the other side of the room. The back office was primarily where they worked on payroll, HR matters, and making business-related phone calls they didn’t want to have out on the floor.

Over the eight months I worked at Parkston’s, I went from starting as a weekend bartender to the weekend manager. The position came with a higher paycheck but also a lot of additional responsibilities. As a result, I frequently used the office to get some peace and quiet when placing orders, going over night tallies, or counting the till. It was a busy Saturday night, but things were starting to wind down, so I’d left Sydney in charge of the bar and returned to the office.

“Whatcha working on over there?”

I spun around in the office chair to face Paige. “The receipts from tonight’s orders. Looks like Richie Dalton was throwing another party in his private room.”

“Aha.” Paige nodded and leaned back in her chair, fiddling with a sleek ballpoint pen. “That’s every weekend for the last three months or so, isn’t it?”

I grabbed the tablet from the desk and flipped through the electronic registries. I consulted it carefully, wanting to make sure I was giving Paige the correct information. She was one of the sweetest people I’d ever met. Still, she also gave off an air of authority that made me double-check everything to make sure I was spot on before answering her questions.

“Yeah…almost four months.” I set the tablet aside. “What does he do again?”

Richie Dalton dropped some serious cash at the club. Lately, he reserved his own room, and a crowd of interesting characters came and went from the private gatherings. I knew what went on inside the walls of the red room since I’d ventured in a few times, but I avoided spending any time in the VIP rooms so I wouldn’t be mistaken for one of the entertainers. Something about Richie Dalton gave me pause, and while I was curious, there was something else that told me to keep my distance.

“He says he’s in the art business, but I don’t know if I buy that. He just doesn’t look like an art guy. Usually, they’re more…oh…I don’t know…metro. You know what I mean?”

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