Page 12 of Rut Bar

My pack of alpha dancers burst onto the stage as the drumming speeds up. The omegas see the itty-bitty leather loincloths and baby oiled muscles and they lose their damn minds. A tall, curvy redhead in a white bridal sash gets jostled to the front of the crowd and Jamie latches onto her, making her his target in the audience.

He stares at her as he dances, his gaze always coming back to her after he’s done with one move before he moves onto the next. When it’s time for his signature move, he drops to the stage right in front of her and moves like he’s fucking the floor.

The play of the stage lights makes his body downright glisten. He’s so oiled up that for a moment I worry one of them is going to slip. It happens sometimes when they do the floor moves. The bride covers her face with her hands, but not her eyes. She’s still looking, and so is Jamie as he works hard to make her feel special on her special night.

Good.The bachelorette package is expensive. Any bride who comes to Rut for her naughty night out gets the VIP treatment.

When he’s done, he pops up and sticks the landing. He sinks back into the pack and I let out an anxious breath. They finish their dance and drop to their knees around him. The light makes his long blond hair gleam like molten gold.

Jamie throws his head back, and the music dims as he lets out a Tarzan yell that shakes the rafters.

There’s absolute silence for a few stunned seconds, and then cheering so loud that my ears ring. A grin splits my face as the dancers parade across the edge of the stage, stopping long enough to accept their tips as patrons shove dollar bills into their loincloths.

When one of the drunk omegas gets too frisky and tries to shove her hand down a loincloth, her friends drag her away to a booth in the back of the club.

I pull my phone from my pocket and send Anthony a text telling him to cut her off. After a moment, he pulls his phone from his back pocket, reads the screen, scans the crowd to find the booth, then looks up at me and nods.

“Wow, they really liked that set,” Brendan says, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yeah, they did. Nate’s a genius. I’m pretty sure that Rut wouldn’t be half as successful as it is if we hadn’t snatched him up. He was working on Broadway before he joined us.”

“How’d you manage that?” he asks.

“His boyfriend landed an acting job, so they moved out here. The bar isn’t far from where they live, so they ended up drinking here occasionally. Sometimes they like to pick up a new friend for the night, you know. He turned my job offer down three times before he finally caved. I give him full artistic control, and he gives me a better routine every month.”

“It seems like this work is a lot more complicated than I thought it would be,” he says.

I glance over my shoulder and smile. “What, you thought it was just G-strings and dollar bills and a little wiggling?”

His face reddens, and my smile grows. “Uh… yeah. Kind of,” he admits. “I’ve never been to a rut bar like this before. I mean, I’ve been to them. When I was younger. Not now. But those were more like…”

“Dive bar sausage fests?” I tease him.

He barks out a laugh, the sound warm and comforting. “Yeah. That’s an apt description. You’ve really built something amazing here.”

Embarrassed but pleased, I duck my head and steal one last glimpse of the crowded club. “We really have.”

I push away from the window and stare at my computer as I try to remember what I was doing before the set started.Right. Paychecks.I pull up the payroll application and make sure it all transferred over to the spreadsheet where I track the business expenses.

“Have a good evening,” Brendan says as he gathers up his things. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

My food is cold by the time I get to eat, but I scarf it down anyway as I take a quick break before looking at the supply order Darlene sent me. The total at the bottom makes me groan, but I know every dollar spent on Nate’s over-the-top costumes comes back to us in drinks and entry fees.

After all, omegas don’t come to Rut for the half-naked alphas. They come for the show. The experience. There’s nothing wrong with good old-fashioned stripping, but this is different. It’s more. Every set doesn’t just tell a story, it sells a dream. A fantasy.

The music cuts off and the lights brighten, and I glance out the office’s vast windows to see the stragglers being ushered out. It’s past the last call, but we still have a half hour to get everyone out so we can close by the ordinance time. Everyone will want their paychecks.

I grab the stack and head downstairs, handing them out one by one as clothed dancers walk past and wish me a good night.

“Go home,” Anthony says to Cassie, one of the other bartenders. “I’ve got this.” He hauls a black bag of trash from the plastic bin and ties it off.

“Are you sure?” Cassie asks, but she’s already taking her black waist apron off and hanging it up on its hook.

“I’m sure. Don’t you have a test tomorrow? Go get some sleep,” he says.

“Thanks,” she says to both him and me as I hand over her paycheck while she grabs her purse.

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