Page 32 of Bossy Ex's Brother

“Like?”

“Okay, so it’s like this.” I saw the glint of excitement in her eyes as she gestured with her hands while explaining her ideas. “The gist of it is we need to change our entire front-facing branding. Or maybe not change it entirely, but shift it ever so slightly. Currently, we’re branded to invite the type of people who don’t buy expensive drinks, or if they do, they think they can do whatever they want to our staff and get away with it.”

“I wouldn’t say all that—” Brandon started, but she shot him a look, and he fell silent.

“More than that,” she explained. “This place is packed every night, but according to our books, we’re not making nearly what we should be. This confirms that we’re attracting the wrong clients. The key to attracting the right ones is to adjust our branding to make Diamond into a place that’s a little more exclusive. That way, when people come here, they know they have to be on their best behavior. This ties in neatly with the new behavioral policy.”

“A behavioral policy?” I asked, not sure what that had to do with the new entertainment options she was talking about.

“Yes. For current clients, we have to show them that, while we’re willing to offer them titillating entertainment, we mean business and won’t tolerate any nastiness.” She glanced between Brandon and me and must have noted the doubt on our faces because she added, “All the upscale clubs have one.”

“You want an upscale club in Glenfield?” Brandon sounded disbelieving. I had to agree with his sentiment. While we weren’t the worst neighborhood in the city, there wasn’t that much upscale about Glenfield. It was strictly working class, with the occasional student who wandered out of Center City.

“Yes,” Jane said. “Or something close to that. I mean, it’s one thing to consider your location, but the neighborhood isn’t necessarily bad, and the bar is situated close enough to downtown to claim affiliation and attract some clients. Plus, the decor is nice.”

I’d done most of the interior decorating in this place, and I was pretty proud of it.

“All we need now,” she continued, “is a little more marketing and presenting the best version of ourselves. Also, displaying that we have only the best staff, which shows in how we treat said staff. Clients will then understand that our staff are all held to a high standard, but they’re also to be respected.”

“And you’re talking about the strippers?” I asked.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Yes. They’re staff, too, aren’t they?”

“So you want a new policy stating that clientele can’t touch the dancers? To raise their worth in the customer’s eye and, in turn, raise our club’s reputation?” I pondered, still not sure I was getting her meaning. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Well…a stripped-down version of it, but yes.”

I sighed, considering it. It wasn’t that it was a bad plan per se, but it would be difficult to get people on board with it. And I wasn’t just talking about the customers. Our strippers were known for being raunchy, and it was why they were so well paid. A lot of them would likely be resistant to the idea that their clients couldn’t touch them because it would likely reduce their tips.

“I’m not restricting the dancers or anything like that,” Jane added as though reading my mind. “They can perform however they want. They get to decide their relationship with each client, and the rules are mostly for the customers. However, each offense can be reviewed on a case-by-case basis to see if the dancer wanted the contact. Security will be prepped on it.”

That was slightly better, but I still didn’t know if it would work. It all sounded too complicated.

Then again, crazier things have happened.

I turned to Brandon. “Call the meeting.”

A few minutes later, the team of 20-odd members was packed into one of the back rooms, listening to Jane give them her whole spiel. I could already sense the doubt on some of their faces. They stared at her in a combination of confusion and doubt. And some weren’t paying attention at all, or rather, they were only paying attention to the wrong things.

I saw a few of the guards nudge themselves and leer. They instantly stopped when they met my gaze. I wasn’t sure what expression I was making, but they immediately looked awayand didn’t attempt to look directly at Jane anymore. Good. If I sensed any more disrespect from them, their heads would swiftly meet the side of the table.

Jane seemed oblivious to the looks as well as the scoffs of some of the dancers. She stood with her back straight, her voice unwavering and steadfast as she gave the presentation. And I have to say it was kinda convincing—not the plan itself but the confidence in her voice. She would have made an exceptional con woman—she had a way of instilling confidence and making you believe in her even when you weren’t sure what she was saying.

Pretty soon, it was time to open the floor to some questions.

May, one of the dancers, raised her hand in the air and said, “Um, that’s all well and good, but how are we going to get our tips if we don’t let them touch us?”

“Customers pay before they enter a room, and it is distributed between the dancers in that room. Those costs will be higher because the perceived value is higher, and you won’t need a tip. You’re there to dance, and that’s it. Sure, you can get as raunchy as you want, but it would help if you put a little creativity in there as well. That way, you don’t have to solely rely on being as explicit as possible.”

“I used to be a ballet dancer.” Another girl we called Tiny piped up. “I can add that to my routine….”

“You gotta make it sexy, though,” one of the waiters called out. “No one’s coming in to watch the snowflake.”

“It’s swan lake, moron.”

“This is a fucking stupid idea,” Stella, one of our oldest dancers, said, crossing her arms. She was one of the women who’d been glaring at Jane the entire time.

Jane met her gaze unflinchingly.

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