Page 45 of Strip Search

Chapter Thirteen

Jackie Mitchell

I woke up this morning hugging a pasta bowl instead of a muscled bouncer with crazy hot tattoos. Fumbling for my phone, I saw it was past noon New York time, but still too early Las Vegas time to see Miles. I was ridiculously pleased to see he had texted last night and didn’t blow me off. It was probably for the best that I had gotten a good night’s sleep, even though my dreams left me feeling restless and needy. Maybe I could convince Miles to have another quickie in his office before we headed out to Pahrump.

Speaking of brothels, Darcy didn’t check in. I hoped that meant that they were having a good time. I also hoped that the bridegroom remained loyal to his bride. If I ever got engaged, there wouldn’t be any chicken ranches in my husband-to-be’s future. I might let him go to a strip club—if he let me dance in it.

Giggling to myself, I threw back the covers—mindful of the pasta bowls—and found that I was only slightly sore. Of course, the last thing my body wanted to do was dance. But I needed to get used to the idea of dancing every day, so I did some warmup exercises before doing my stripper routine that I had planned out. I never got to do my last two songs. Keeping with the Broadway theme, I had planned to do “You Can’t Stop the Beat” fromHairsprayand “One Night in Bangkok” from Chess. My costumes were so cute too. I wondered if Miles would change his mind about me dancing in the club and just let me just dance on stage and keep the tips, but not have to work the room.

Of course, that’s what the other dancers had hated about Lisa. So maybe I should just stick to dancing in my hotel room for now. I flipped open my laptop to finish answering the pressing e-mails that I had blown off yesterday. Making myself a pot of coffee with the tiny machine in the room, I yawned.

My job was dull.

There. I admitted it. When I was in Manhattan, at least I could use the excuse that the city was exciting, and I was meeting and greeting directors and choreographers for new shows. It was fun to pitch my clients to them, even though I felt a twinge of jealousy when they got the contracts. The majority of my job, though, was reviewing contracts and researching opportunities for other people. I couldn’t be too upset. I was making fifteen percent, but I’d rather be up on the stage.

For shits and giggles, I went online to the Las Vegas classifieds to see if there were any auditions this week. I didn’t find any. I should have taken that as a sign, but instead I called my office back in New York. It didn’t matter that it was a Saturday morning, the office never closed on the weekend.

“Zimmerman Agency,” Mags, our receptionist said.

“Hi, Mags, it’s me checking in from Sin City.”

“We got two feet of snow dumped on us. Calling to rub it in?”

I hadn’t been, but I pulled back the drape and gazed out into the sun and palm trees. I was glad I wasn’t in New York. “Looks like it’s going to hit ninety degrees today before noon.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait!” I leaned against the window, looking down at the Strip. It wasn’t even noon yet, but there were still people out there hustling and working. It reminded me of New York. “I was wondering, do we have any connections out here? In the back of my mind I thought there was a production company that had been farming for showgirls a couple of years back. But I can’tremember the name, otherwise I’d search it myself. Can you ask around and get back to me?”

“What’s in it for me?” she teased.

“What do you want?” I said with a smile.

“I want you to put ten dollars on black twenty-two on the roulette table. If you win, we split it fifty-fifty.”

“You’re on.”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Take all the time that you need.” It was a silly idea anyway. Even if Mags found someone, I didn’t have a client here. It was a long shot that Lisa would have tried to hook up with the same company. Of course, I wasn’t asking on behalf of Lisa or my clients. I was thinking about what Miles had said and the remnants of my fantasy last night. Did I have what it took to ace an audition in a town where no one knew who I was?

Mags had hung up, but I still had the phone in my ear and was still looking out onto the busy street below. I could live here. It was warm and the city was exciting. I liked who I was in this place. And it was conveniently far away from my parents.

Feeling a little guilty about not calling him before now, I dialed my dad’s number.

“Did you go broke?” was the first thing he said when he picked up.

“I haven’t even stepped foot in a casino.”

He made a disgusted sound. “You’re wasting your life.”

Unlike my mother, he was actually teasing me, and it made me smile. “Are you doing okay?”

“Your mother narced on me, didn’t she? It was one beer.”

“Just one?” I asked quietly.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

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