Page 45 of Plum

He takes me by the elbow and hustles me to the back. His fingers dig into my skin. Now that he’s close, I can smell bourbon. He’s had a glass or two. How long was he here before he came over?

Cue and Forty are talkin’ to some customers by the stage. They clock what’s happening, and they don’t seem concerned.

Austin’s at the door. There’s a prospect bar backing tonight, and Nickel’s somewhere around. If I holler, they’ll come running.

Maybe I should call for Cue. But then maybe Adam will tell Cue that I ripped him off. Cue don’t tolerate his girls running game on the customers, and he’d see it that way. As I’m dithering, Adam’s ushering me to the way back.

When we’re almost there, Danielle catches my eye. She raises her eyebrows. I glance up at Adam. I know when a man is dangerously angry. I was raised up around junkies, criminals, and bikers. People who don’t give a fuck. Adam don’t seem dangerous to me. Honestly, the closer I look, the more miserable he seems. Tormented.

Is this his pride talking?

What if he’s holding on to me so tight ‘cause he missed me, too? I can’t believe it, but the thought warms my belly and gives me courage.

“Stop, would you. It hurts.” I yank my arm forward.

He looks kind of stupefied, and he lets me go.

I give Danielle a little shake of the head. Shit. I hope I don’t live to regret this.

“Which one?” Adam’s face is hard again when we reach the back, all business.

Nickel’s propped on a stool, bird-dogging. “You good?” he grunts. He don’t even seem to recognize Adam from the other night, or he don’t care. Nickel’s got his own shit going on.

Adam don’t know that, so he tenses even more.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Here.” I hustle Adam into a corner room, a different one from the last time. This one has fake velvet benches built into the wall. There’s a small disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

Adam takes his jacket off, unbuttons his collar, and sits back, all cocky business man, leg crossed at the knee, arm draped along the back of the bench. His phone dangles from his hand.

“What’s going on?” I stand in front of him, arms folded.

“This is a strip club. You’re a stripper,” he says. “Dance.”

His face is brewing up a storm. Come to think of it, I ain’t never seen a man this intense who wasn’t about to blow. Shivers race down my spine. Maybe I am being stupid here. Seeing what I want to see. Strike that. I’m definitely being stupid.

“Are you waiting for something?” He cocks his head. Asshole.

“Listen. I get that you’re mad.” I aim for a reasonable, calming tone of voice, but God didn’t make me that way. I sound snotty. I own that.

“Yeah? You ever get robbed you while you slept?”

I suck in a deep breath. That stung, more than it should, but it ain’t untrue. My stomach drops, but I don’t let it show. I need to smooth this over. I don’t need to be bringing trouble to work.

And if I’m being honest, his shitty attitude is getting to me. Makes me itchy. Unsteady. Kind of like when I do something that pisses or Heavy Cue off. Like I’m mad, but I also don’t like that I’m makin’ him mad, either.

“I told you I can get the bottle. I don’t even really know why I took it.” That’s the truth. It felt like I was squaring something up, getting even somehow, but that don’t really make sense. I just did it.

“I’m not interested in why you took it. You made yourself clear. You’re the pro. I’m the customer. This is business. So here we are. You’re on the clock, Plum. I’m paid up. Dance.”

Why is he so intent on rubbing my face in this shit? He damn well knows where he met me.

“That’s right. So,customer, you gonna tell me what you’re lookin’ for?”

“I trust you know your job.”

Oh, this guy. He’s got a mean streak a mile wide. And I thought the stepbrother was the piece of work. I’m swiftly caring less and less that I pissed this guy off.

“Why don’t you tell me what you like?” I smile real fake.

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