Masquerade (3 page)

No. The answer came
immediately. Better to take a chance in
Chicago
than to barely exist in
Cape Girardeau
.

Resolutely, Beth pushed
the door open and stepped inside, taking a few seconds for her eyes to adjust
to the darker interior. It was a pleasant surprise to see it was not trashy at
all. Couches sat at juxtapositions, with pillows tossed about. Tall wing-backed
chairs offset the comfort of the couches, all arranged in a sort of organized
disarray. A single spotlight
showcased
an empty stage
at the front surrounded by half-moon couches and tables reminiscent of old-time
Vegas.

No patrons were here
at the moment
, but that wasn’t surprising. It was early yet,
not even dinnertime. A bar filled almost the entire length of one wall and one
lone bartender stood watching her, a bar rag and glass motionless in his hand.

Beth swallowed the walnut-sized
lump in her throat and crossed to where he stood. As she approached, she
realized he wore a mask. It was simple, black, and covered only the top half of
his face. Even in the dim light, though, she could see the blue of his eyes
enhanced by the black of both his hair and the mask.

She’d
only seen eyes that blue once in her life. The image, a flash of bodies entwined,
of hot kisses and fumbling fingers exploring each other, hit her like a brick. Beth
reeled from the heat of the memory and the pain that always sliced through her
afterward. She latched onto the stool in front of her for support.

That heat was what she’d
come here to find.
Not the pain.
Not
the loss.
She wanted to feel a desire to be with someone that overrode
everything else. It would erase the pain. It had to. That, more than anything,
was the reason she now stood inside
Masquerade
.

The bartender glanced
down at his hands as if surprised to find something in them. He wiped the glass
with measured care, eyes on Beth while she tried to regain her equilibrium.
There was something about the man that made her pulse hit supersonic
speed.
The lump was back in Beth’s throat as delicious heat filled her
with cravings she
hadn’t
felt in a long time. His
shoulders rippled against the dark t-shirt as he worked the glass.
And
his hands...
 
 
His long fingers worked the glass like a
caress. A caress she wanted to feel slide over the curves of her body, trail along
the rounded side of her breast, and bathe her nipples in focused attention
until they
were tightly pebbled
and begging for more.
Gliding across her stomach with the touch of a feather, dipping into—

“We don’t open until nine.”
The man’s voice croaked and he cleared it.

The spell broken, Beth
stepped back from the bar on legs that refused to stop wobbling. What had just
happened?
She’d
almost had a wide-awake sex dream
about a complete stranger. She stared at him. It must be the mask, the mystery.
That’s
all. It had to be.

She shook her head and
glanced around. “I’m supposed to meet someone?”

His lips quirked upward
so briefly Beth thought
she’d
imagined it.
“Who?”
His voice was stronger now, deeper, and much sexier as
he asked the simple question. Beth leaned toward him until the bar stopped her,
then
shook her head to clear it.
Get a grip, woman. Stop acting like some lust-filled teenager.

“Umm, well, actually, I’m
not sure. I have a note?”

He leaned on the bar, his
gaze traveling down her body,
then
back up with an
intensity that made her feel sexy even in her disheveled state.

“You probably want to see
Sally.”

“Sally?”

“The
owner.”
He picked up a phone and spoke briefly into it. “She’s expecting
you.”

“She is? She doesn’t even
know my name.” Beth’s eyes widened.

He shrugged. “She knew
you were coming. Have a seat and she’ll be out in a few.”

He moved further down the
bar, placing the goblet in a hanging rack of glassware. He picked up another
glass, but spent more time watching Beth than drying it.

She leaned a hip against
a bar stool and tried to find something to quell her nerves, short of asking
for a shot of anything from one of those bottles lining the back of the bar. What
would she be asked
to do?
And
would it be here? She glanced at the stage. Was this a strip joint? Beth felt
the flush that tinged her cheeks and gulped.
 
She
didn’t
do public
exhibition.

Then she remembered the
rip in her jeans.
Crap.

“Hey,” she called to the
bartender. “Got a bathroom around here?”

“Yup.
Over in that far corner,” he said, pointing behind Beth.

Beth was off the chair
and reaching for her bag, ready to dash for a quick change, when a door at the
far end of the bar opened and a woman who could only be Sally walked out. Taller
than Beth by several inches, buxom was an understatement for her build. She
wore a black corset with red lace overlays designed to show off her, um,
assets.

She walked with a “don’t
mess with me” air that made Beth drop the bag at her side.

“You Beth?”
Even the woman’s voice commanded respect.

Beth gulped. “Yes.”

Sally eyed her from top
to bottom and Beth jumped when the woman reached for the baggy T-shirt she wore,
pulling it tight.

“Not much to you is
there, young’un. Well,” she continued. “You’ll have to do. Come with me.”

No one disobeyed this
woman. That was easy to tell. Beth chose not to be the exception to the rule as
she picked up her bag and followed the owner of
Masquerade
.

Chapter Three

Beth struggled to keep up
with the quick-stepping Sally when she walked past the bar and ducked through a
side door. She clutched her bag and used her other hand to cover the gash in her
jeans as she raced after the woman. Misjudging the width of the door, her
injured elbow hit it with a thunk, bringing immediate tears to her eyes. “Ouch!”

The bartender was at her
side before she could regroup.

“You
all right?”
His voice was as gruff as the concern in his eyes was
serious.

Beth fought to get the
tears under control, the pain to ebb, and get a hold of
herself
.
“I’m—I’m fine. Just a little shook up from an incident.”

“What incident?” he
asked. She
didn’t
understand the focus in his eyes.
Even the mask
couldn’t
hide the emotion there. Why was
he so concerned?

“It’s nothing, really.”
She glanced down the hall to a rapidly disappearing Sally, then back at the
bartender, holding up her suitcase. “Can I leave this with you?”

He looked like he
didn’t
want to let it be, but he dropped his hand. “Sure. I’ll
keep an eye on it.”

Beth mumbled a thank you,
handed him her suitcase, and hurried after Sally down a dimly lit hallway. She
barely saw the woman turn into a side door. When Beth caught up, she found
herself in an office even more ornate than the bar itself, if that were
possible. A deep, red-velvet covered lounger that dredged up the term “fainting
couch”
didn’t
diminish in any way the antique desk
that filled a good portion of the room. Drapes similar to oriental rugs hung
from every bit of wall space. Beth thought it rivaled a Maharaja’s palace.

“Wow,” Beth said.

“If you’re going to live
it, live it all the way,” Sally said with a laugh. “You have any trouble
finding the place?”

“Except
for getting mugged and losing my purse, my money, and my phone?
No. No
trouble.”

“That’s a shame,” Sally
said, then moved one of the curtains aside. Beth saw racks of bagged clothing.
Sally glanced back at her.

“You’re a tiny thing.
Size six, I’d guess?”

“Umm,
yes.”
That’s
not how Steve would have described
her.
He’d
have focused on the extra twenty pounds she
put on during their marriage.

“Good.” She grabbed a
couple bags and thrust them into Beth’s arms. “Here’s your uniform.”

Walking over to her desk,
Sally opened a drawer and pulled out a set of keys with a tag attached. “My
city apartment is empty at the moment, so you can crash there. Address and
alarm code are on the tag. It’s not far.” She also handed Beth some bills. “You’ll
need a little something to get by on since you got robbed.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Take it. Consider it an
advance on your salary.” She
didn’t
give Beth a chance
to refuse as she gave her another once over. “You don’t do any drugs or funny
stuff, do you?”

Beth shook her head.
“Never.”

“All right, then. Report
back here at eight o’clock sharp tonight.”

“B-but—” Everything was
happening so fast, Beth
couldn’t
even figure out what
to ask first. “What am I reporting back here to do?”

“Waitress,
of course.”
Sally waved as if dismissing her.

“I don’t even know why
I’m here.” Beth stopped and lowered her voice to a more normal cadre. “Are you
the person I sent the application to?”

“Hell,
no.
Do I look like a person with the resources to pull something like
this off?” Sally laughed long and hard.

“I don’t understand. I
asked for help, but wasn’t looking for a job.”

“Honey, you just need to
go with the flow for a while. If I know anything about this process, I know
it’ll all make sense in the end.”

Beth glanced at what
appeared to be a rather skimpy outfit. “I’m to wear this? It looks pretty
risqué.”

“Don’t you
worry.
We
don’t
allow any funny
business here. Masquerade is all about stepping into a different identity, but
it only goes so far. None of our girls provide extra
services
if you know what I mean.” Sally rummaged through paperwork
on her desk,
then
looked up. “I only have one rule.
No fooling around with the guests
or
the employees.
It means instant dismissal if you do. Got
that?”

Beth swallowed a gulp and
nodded her head. “How long will I be here?”

“As
long as it takes.”
Sally eyed her up and down. “I don’t think that will
be long,” she said, picking up a file folder. “Now, shoo. And close the door as
you leave.”

Beth turned to leave,
wondering what
she’d
gotten herself into.

“Hang on. How’d those
jeans get ripped?”

Beth clapped a hand over
her butt and wanted to hide behind one of the drapes in Sally’s office.
She’d
completely forgotten. “I am so sorry,” she said,
stuttering. “The mugger threw me to the ground, and they got ripped.”

“That shouldn’t have
happened.” Sally frowned.
“You all right?”

“I think so.
Except for my wounded pride.”
And
a five inch rip in my new way-over-my-budget jeans.

“Okay, then,” Sally said.
“But honey? If I were you, I wouldn’t go out in public with that nice ass of
yours hanging out for everyone’s view.”

Beth backed out into the
hall, certain all her cheeks were the same deep scarlet as Sally’s couch. Once
the door closed, she leaned against the wall, needing the support.
She’d
just interviewed for a job she hadn’t applied for and
didn’t know if she wanted, in ass-displaying jeans.

What had she been
thinking, coming here? Everything possible had gone wrong, and she still had no
clue what was happening. Maybe she could call her friend Tina from work, borrow
the money for a ticket home, and get the heck out of
Chicago
. Go back to her apartment, sparsely
filled with scraped together furniture over the past year since Steve took
everything with him when he moved out. Go back to the town she loved that now seemed
tinged with the memory that she was incapable of making a relationship work.

Except Beth
didn’t
want to return to that.
Not
anymore.
Looking at the keys and uniform in her hand, she straightened,
gathering her courage. She had no clue what would happen here at Club
Masquerade, but this appeared to be part of what her benefactor had planned for
her, and she was going to see it through.

This was her fresh start.
No more old memories, painful or otherwise.
A new beginning.

Although, she wondered as
she walked back into the bar, how she would meet someone who could teach her
how to be a good lover when she
couldn’t
mess around
with clients or employees. Beth had no clues to guide her.

“Are you really all
right?”

Beth jumped a couple feet
at the question. Had the bartender been waiting for her? She turned to see him
standing beside the door and, in the process, once again hit her elbow on the
bar.
“Owww!”

“Let me take a look,” he
said with a gentle tug of her other arm. He pulled her to where the lighting
was better and looked at her elbow, frowning. “You’re all scraped up and
bleeding. What the hell happened?”

Beth tried to get a look
at the injury, but
couldn’t
turn her arm enough. She
hadn’t
felt a thing except when she’d hit it, but an ache
was setting in that got her attention. She winced as she straightened the arm. “Some
guy in a ski mask knocked me to the ground at the train station and took off
with my purse.”