Page 41 of Indigo Sky

"Message received," I answered, hoping he could see the sincerity in my gaze.

Saul remained silent for a few moments, and I stayed calm. Slowly sipping my water and never breaking eye contact. Then, finally, he nodded, clapped a hand against my shoulder, and extended his palm.

"Congratulations," he said. "Job's yours."

I grasped his hand in mine, and we shook. "Thank you very much."

"Can you start tonight?"

"Absolutely."

"Wonderful. Now, I have to ask, do you own a suit?"

I didn't, but I lied and said I did, knowing damn well I'd be raiding my father's closet before my first night on the job.

***

Midnight Lotus looked much different at night than it did in the middle of the day. Now, it was more like I remembered it from that night years ago. Dark, the heavy scent of perfume hanging in the air. A crowd of loud, raucous men stood outside, waiting their turn in line, along with a handful of women.

It struck me as strange for so many people to come to a strip club on a Monday night, but, hell, far be it from me to judge. I just wanted the cash.

Saul had told me to meet him at the front door, ready for my trial run.

"You clean up nice, kid," he said, assessing the black suit with a look of appreciation. His eyes landed on the matte-black eyepatch, and he grinned. "Do you always match the patch to the outfit?"

"If I can," I said with a laugh.

The amusement was quick to fade as he turned his attention to the line of patrons standing before us, growing more impatient by the second.

"All right. Let’s see you in action."

So, I worked while Saul kept a watchful eye over the job I was doing. I asked for their IDs, quickly assessed their demeanor while making sure the ID wasn't a fake, and unclipped the velvet rope to let them pass. The line shortened quickly without incident, not a single person needed to be turned away, and when Saul and I were the only people left outside, he patted my shoulder with an approving nod.

"That went smoothly," he said, reading my mind. "Honestly, it usually does. This is a nice place. But that doesn't mean we don't deal with our share of shitheads. Don't get lazy. Stay on guard, and you'll do fine."

"I wasn't worried," I clipped, giving him a cocky half smile.

I was getting comfortable, and I liked him. I wanted him to know he could feel the same without concern, and to my relief, his eyes crinkled with laughter, and a chuckle rumbled through his throat.

"All right. I'm gonna grab something to eat. You good out here?"

"I think I can handle it."

"Cool."

He headed inside, the heavy bass from the music filtering out onto the sidewalk for a moment before the door closed behind him.

And then I was flying solo.

The street was quiet. There were few people to grant admission to. I assumed that had something to do with the time and day. But every one of them was respectful. Nobody gave me an attitude; nobody treated me condescendingly. I couldn't tell if that was due to my position, the suit, the clientele, or all of the above … but I liked it.

I stood with my back to the door, my arms crossed over my front, as two men about my age, both wearing button-downs and ties, came up with their wallets out and ready. I didn't have to ask them to remove their IDs—they already knew—and when I unclipped the velvet rope to let them in, one of the men shook my hand, leaving a few bills flat against my palm.

"Thanks, man. Have a good night," he said before disappearing inside with his friend.

I clenched my hand around the bills, clipped the velvet rope back in place, then peeked at what he'd left behind.

Two twenty-dollar bills. Forty bucks.

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