Page 14 of Auctioned Surrender

Chapter 10

Bryanna

I walk off stage and behind the curtains before taking the small silky robe from one of the hooks on the wall. I slip into it and fasten the belt as I make my way down the back hall. I’m heading toward the dressing room, hoping to run into Layla, when I’m suddenly pulled by strong arms into an alcove and pushed against a wall, coming face-to-face with the big boss.

“Where the hell were you?”

I’ve always known it was a possibility, but no one has gotten physical with me before. I swallow down the lump in my throat and try to stay the fear that seems to have overtaken my body and has turned my legs to jelly. If they think I ran, all of my suffering will be for naught, so I rely on my tough girl act.

“I don’t know exactly. I don’t remember anything after the waxing parlor. I woke up, and some sick son of a bitch had me all tied up. He untied me to go to the bathroom and then left me that way when he went to shower thinking I’d gone to sleep. I made it out of that place with my life due to sheer dumb luck!”

“Good thing you did, too! I’m tired of babysitting your ass and listening to Layla mother you. Tomorrow night can’t get here soon enough for me!” the boss exclaims before walking away with his right-hand man.

As much as I try, I can’t help the tears. I give myself a little time, but only a few minutes. I need to make the club some money tonight or I may learn the hard way just how rough that man can really be, because Layla can only protect me from so much. I take a deep breath, calming myself for the rest of the night as I head toward the dressing room.

I’m almost to the doorwhen the strangest sensation comes over me, and my entire body tingles with an exciting little current. It’s the same feeling I get every time Damian is near. I know he’s not anywhere close, but I spin around anyway, searching the hallway, and sigh heavily, realizing it’s just a cruel and disappointing illusion. Why would Damian even think to come after me? He tried to help me, and I stole from him, and then left the safety he provided.

I walk into the dressing room, and the girls are all getting ready for their shows. I’m planning to repay favors tonight, because dancing for me last night probably cost them an hour doing something else that would have brought them a lot more money, and many of them have huge debts to pay to the bosses.

“So, who do I owe next? There’s a ton of men out there with dance cards just waiting to be filled up.” They can’t take these dance cards, our code name for a quick lay, if they’re on the dance floor. “Come on, at least four of you must have taken my dances last night. That means I’m going all night. Tell me when,” I say.

“Layla told us the bosses put you off the schedule. That’s not your fault, but if you really don’t mind, you could take my 6 p.m. tomorrow. I have an offer that will pay a lot more than that,” Tiarra says, not even glancing up while continuing to put her makeup on at the mirror.

“I think something’s happening tomorrow night, but I’m not sure what time. If I’m here, I’ll gladly take your place,” I say, looking from one of the girls to the other.

“I filled in for you last night, but you don’t have to dance if you don’t want. I know you’re new, and this has to be hard for you,” Mikah says, walking toward me in her red see-through corset and stick heels.

“I’m happy to fill in for you. When do you go on?” I ask the voluptuous blonde.

“I have two more shows tonight. I’m up next, and you just came off, so I’ll do this one if you take the next one,” says the soft-spoken blonde. “I’m not sure what happened last night, but it’s very nice of you to offer to do the sessions. I’ll let them know before I hit the stage that they’re calling you for a couple spots,” she says, hugging me close.

“You’re very welcome. Happen to know where Layla is?”

She shakes her head. “No. Come to think of it, I saw her dancing and then talking to some good-looking guy on the floor, but I haven’t seen her since.”

Mikah walks out of the room, and Liza spins from the mirror she’s been looking at and glares at me with bloodshot eyes. “You know what you cost us last night?”

I shake my head, because I don’t have a clue what she pulls in.

She pretends to spit into the air before turning back to the mirror.

I’ve done everything anyone has asked me to do, and nothing, at least intentional, to deserve this much of her wrath. “What did I cost you?” I ask, sincerely wanting to make things right.

“They originally had you scheduled for back-to-back dances at the end of the night because some of us had better offers. I drew the short straw and got stuck dancing the whole hour of prime time for a fraction of what I could have brought in, having to cover for you. The little bosses may have called you off, but the big bosses still expect the same damn cut from the rest ofus,” she huffs, turning back to the mirror to paint her lips bright pink.

“I don’t have money to compensate you, but if you’re scheduled to go on tonight, I can take your dances so you can do whatever you want.”

Her troubled eyes capture mine in the mirror, and her brows raise in surprise. “Are you serious? You’re protected. The men can’t touch you without the boss’s say so,” she says, watching me in the mirror.

“I always pay my debts, no matter what. Tell me what time, and then have the switch arranged. I’ll take your place on the floor, and you lose the attitude.”

She gives me the onceover and then nods. “Alright, if you take my ten and ten-thirty shifts tonight, we call it even. I should be able to make up most of the money with a few of my regulars.”

I’m now committed from nine thirty until eleven straight, but I can do this. Hours of yoga and dance classes will sustain me, and I need to do this. “Take care of the switch, and consider it done,” I say, heading toward the costume closet on the far side of the room to rummage through options for the night.

I slide into my next costume and step into the insanely high red stick heels that will most certainly be a challenge, but I vow to conquer them just like the other girls have. The sexy little red g-string is a perfect fit. I take hold of the minuscule triangular-fashioned top that is fully intended to show more of my breasts than it covers, pulling the little straps across my shoulders. The image in the mirror looks way too exposed, but I now have a debt to pay. I finish a few touch-up swipes to my makeup, apply a final coat of glossy red lipstick, and I’m ready.

I walk down the hall that takes me to the stage entrance, waiting at the curtain for the dramatic-looking smoke to fill the dance area. When it does, I take a moment, inhale a deep breath,and count the beats for my cue, and then strut onto the stage as I’ve been trained to do.

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