Page 8 of Razor's Edge
Thank you.
Management.
“That’s the worst,” Candy says, scaring the shit out of me.
“You have no fucking idea. I need a job and have no experience but slinging drinks. Even that doesn’t count because I’ve got no proof. Fucking no good assholes.” I’m letting my mouth run away with me.
“Lady, it sounds like you need a little help. Why don’t you come work at the club as a waitress? Mandy got herself knocked-up and quit,” Candy replies, tapping away on her phone.
“Thank you, Candy, but I mean it when I say I’ve got no proof of experience. Maybe we can talk about why one day, but today we can’t. Do you think your club would hire me?” I finish, trying not to get my hopes up.
Do I want to be a waitress? No, not really, but I do want to work. If this is the best start I get, then let’s do it. Candy looks at me with a bright smile, turning her phone for me to see who she’s been talking to.
Candy: Hey, boss man. I have a good friend that needs a job and has waitressed.
Boss Man: Can she do the work? We need someone tonight.
Candy: She’s amazingly sweet and awesome at carrying a tray.
Boss Man: Bring her in tonight, and we’ll see how things go. Candy, you better not be bringing me another crazy.
Candy: No worries, Boss, she is the best.
I jumped up and hugged Candy. “Thank you! Thank you, I won’t let you down.”
“I’ve no doubt about it, girl! This is going to be so fun!”
Since then, I’ve worked seven days a week to avoid Stacy. When I don’t work, I spend time with Vixen going to lunch and hanging around the pool at my complex. I miss Vixen so much, but I can’t be at the club and watch Razor with the bitch. She has tried several times to tell me about him, but I refuse to hear it. I’ve got to move on and make my life without the club. Don’t get me wrong, I miss the club and most of the men in it, my heart can’t take the pain of watching him love someone the way he loved me.
“Earth to Logan. Are you with us?” Candy snaps her fingers in my face.
I swat her hand away, laughing. “I’m here. Just remembering the day you got me this wonderful job.”
“I know, I’m amazing! Thanks for reminding me,” Candy sasses.
I laugh and shake my head. Vixen would love this woman. Maybe next time Vix comes to see me, Candy can come hang out with us. I look myself over one more time before leaving the dressing room and going to the bar. I swipe my card to start my shift when the stage goes dark beforeSorry Not Sorryby Demi Lovato starts and Candy takes the stage.
I don’t strip like Candy, I’m just a waitress, and I’m okay with that. I’ve got no interest in stripping with the scars on my back. The men love Candy, though, and she makes good money. I don’t know her story. She is paying for school, her life, and taking care of her mother, brother, and sister.
Once she is good and started, I start making my rounds, cleaning up the dirties, and seeing if my tables need anything.
I come to a back corner table and trip over my own feet. The man at that table is out of a woman’s wet dream. I’ve never seen him here before because there is no way you could forget a face like that. He is all caramel skin, with medium-length brown hair, not overly muscled but enough to know he can hold his own in a fight. His eyes are so dark I swear I see my reflection in them. We make eye contact, and I’m lost. I make it to his table, but when I do, the spell is broken as the club plunges into darkness.
I clear my throat and shake my head to clear the fog. “Good evening. What can I get started for you?” I finally get out.
The god in a nice suit looks me up and down before speaking, “Gin neat for me. Gentlemen?”
The table is full of good-looking men in suits. None of them hold a candle to the god in front of me, though. I can’t hide the blush that starts at my toes and works its way to my hairline. They all chuckle, but none of them comment on it. The crowd I’m used to would have let everyone know.
They all give me their orders, and I turn, practically sprinting away from them to the bar. I get their drinks, take a deep breath, and channel a mix of Vixen and Candy to get through this without looking like a complete dumbass. At the table, Lionel stands talking to Mister Delicious. It doesn’t look like a particularly friendly conversation, but one thing I learned a long time ago was if it isn’t my business, stay way the fuck out of it! I drop my head, walk over, and pass the drinks without a pause. A warm, rough hand wraps around my wrist as I turn to leave, stopping my escape.
“Don’t run away, little momma. Lionel was just leaving,” Mister Delicious implores, giving me what shockingly looks like puppy dog eyes.
“I need to check my other tables. I’ll be back before that glass in your hand is empty.” I smile.
A look of surprise settles on his fine face for five seconds before it’s gone. He throws his glass of Gin back in one swallow. I can’t help but watch the long column of his throat as he does. His glass doesn’t even hit the table before all the men there follow his lead. All the glasses hit the table with a thud, and Mister Delicious raises an eyebrow in dare.
“Well, it looks like you gentlemen don’t know how to savor the finer things in life. So, while those drinks settle, I’m going to go check on my other tables and bring another round,” I sass, putting all the dirties onto my tray and turning to leave.
