Page 28 of Between Never and Forever
Fifteen minutes later,I leave the dressing room wearing sweats and a tank with my face scrubbed clean, and I run smack into Mack.
“Boyfriends aren’t allowed if they can’t behave themselves,” she says. “You know the rules.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just an idiot.”
She smiles. “He know that?”
“That he’s not my boyfriend, or that he’s an idiot?” I give her a sly grin. “He probably knows both.”
Mack shakes her head with a sigh, lifting her eyes to the ceiling.
“You girls are turning me gray.”
I snort a laugh. Mack is only in her early thirties, and there’s not a gray hair on her head. She looks back at me with an arched brow.
“You’re off until Monday.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she holds up a palm.
“It’s not a punishment. Red told me about your shows. I don’t want you to worry about pulling doubles. You can make the hours up next week.”
“Really?” My smile must cover my entire face because her lips curve slightly in return. “Thank you.”
She nods, then turns to leave.
“Remember us when you’re famous,” she calls over her shoulder before heading around the corner and back into her office.
There’s a bounce to my step as I walk to the Pen. It’s a storage room that we use to hold drunk assholes before the cops come cart them off. It cracks me up that Levi ended up in there. First the strip club, then the lap dance, and now the Perv Pen.
What a day for good old Levi Cooper.
I wipe my face of any expression before I swing the door open, and it’s difficult as hell not to bust out laughing when I see Levi slouched in a metal folding chair, holding an ice pack on his face. His eyes jump to me immediately, but I settle mine on Red.
“I got it from here, Red.”
He nods without saying anything. Then he pushes himself away from the wall where he was leaning, gives me a wink, and walks out the door. It’s not until the door clicks shut behind me that I let my attention drift to Levi.
He’s glaring daggers at me, and my head jerks back on instinct.
“What?” I spit out.
“Vixen Viper?”
“We have to have a stage pseudonym.” I shrug. “It’s better than Candi or Cookie or Cupcake. At least a viper isn’t easily consumed.”
He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t say anything else about my name. He just cocks his head slightly to the side and keeps his eyes narrowed on me. I put my hands on my hips and glare back until he decides to speak again.
“You’re a stripper.”
Andthereis the patronizing tone I didn’t miss.
“Dancer,” I correct, and he scoffs.
“Half-naked dancer.”
“It’s my job.”
“This isn’t ajob. It’s ajoke.”
