THE BIG MOVE (Miami Hearts Book 2) (4 page)

              I’d done my best, but my reception was lukewarm, at best. Only a few customers had clapped once my routine was done, and even less left me dollars during my performance.

              It was Faith who’d taken me under her wing, demonstrated how to get a bigger bang out of my performances, and loaned me shoes and costumes from her own collection until I could afford to begin my own.

              Without Faith, I wouldn’t have been able to last here at the club. Parker probably would’ve tolerated my presence for as long as my pride held out, but I would’ve eventually slunk off into the darkness, ashamed that I’d failed at dancing for a living. I’d always been a good dancer, back home, loving to spin around the floor of my home in bare feet, Antonio barely able to keep up.

              Now, though, things were much different. Half the customers had gotten to their feet, stomping and clapping to the beat of my song. They whooped as I took the last few feet of stage to the pole at a dead run, grabbing the metal tightly with my hands and using my momentum to swing around it, my legs splayed, until I sank to the ground in a full split. Faith had worked with me so diligently to get me this flexible, enduring my questions and all the extra time it took for me to get this good. She hadn’t been forced to, and she’d had issues of her own she needed to deal with, but she always took a few minutes to show me the ropes.

              Knowing these ropes ensured my survival here.

              I leapt up, still keeping perfect time to the beat of my song, and sashayed around the pole, backing up, bending forward, always keeping the customers guessing about what I would do next, where I would go, and who I might shower my attention on. Many of the dancers ignored the customers who approached the stage to get a closer look at the action, preferring that they get a gander and leave the dollar on the floor. The bouncers enforced a time limit on being able to stand by the stage, which could be extended by another dollar placed on the floor.

              I liked to give everyone a little personalized attention, though. I found being nice and attentive earned more tips than being aloof and unattainable.

              When the first man came dancing up to the stage, I dropped to my knees and pretended to be his dancing partner, swaying my torso and gyrating my shoulders in time with his own moves. This delighted him, and he dropped even more dollars on the stage than I think he planned on dropping. When he reached out to try to touch me, though, I scooted away quickly, pouting and waggling my finger at him. Touching was a no-no. I could touch, but they couldn’t. A bouncer immediately intervened, but he didn’t have to. The customer had gotten my message loud and clear, and dropped a few more dollars on the stage in apology, shrugging and heading back to his seat.

              I gave each customer who took the time and effort to visit me around the stage his own personal dance, showering affectionate kisses blown in his direction. Someone on the outside looking in might believe that I really enjoyed this line of work — being flirtatious and outgoing. In reality, it was just something that needed to be done, something I did for the money and no other reason. I didn’t like being friendly to the men ogling my body — and Antonio had never liked it, either. But necessity meant that I needed this job, and I needed to do well at it to make everything worth it.

              My eyes darted around the edge of the stage. One guy I’d already lavished special attention on was back for more, so I returned. He was good looking — not that it mattered to me — with mahogany skin and a head shaved smooth. He was well dressed for it being the lunch crowd in a button-down shirt, patterned tie, and dark slacks. My observations were more than just idle. If a man was dressed well, maybe he had the money to make my shift even more lucrative. If I could please him, be the type of girl he was looking for to entertain him, I could make some serious profits.

              Then again, I’d been surprised by men with stained and torn T-shirts and oil on their hands. That’s why I tried to be generous to everyone. I could never know when my actions would spark someone else’s sense of generosity.

              “Like what you see?” I shouted over the music, twirling in front of the guy’s face, aware that the sparkly fringes of my costume were dangerously close to slapping him. I shimmied while lunging forward, again coming within a few centimeters of making contact with him before arching my back, away. For his part, he was perfectly behaved, making sure to keep his palms firmly on the edge of the stage even as his fingers twitched, making time with the song. He grinned wide at me, his white teeth flashing in the play of colored lights and darkness in the club.

              The song ended with a flourish, and I winked at him over my shoulder as I made my way back to the stairs.

              “That was Sol, everyone, Sol!” Parker purred. “Show her just how much she got your heart racing. Don’t be shy, now.”

              I left the bouncers to rake up whatever cash had been dropped on stage for me and I headed to the dressing room, revisiting the men who’d patronized me up on stage. This was something Faith had taught me to do, to take special note of the men who were interested in my performance, so I could try to make some more money off of them later. That last gentleman, the one dressed so nicely, was going to be my first stop.

              But right before I reached the dressing room, the very man in question caught up to me, waving at me and getting my attention.

              “Well, hello,” I said, smiling even though I was surprised. I usually went to the dressing room after dancing to get cleaned up, do a costume change, and count my money.

              “I don’t mean to accost you,” the man said. “It’s just … I don’t know how to explain it. You’re gorgeous and you probably get this all the time, but I sort of felt a connection with you when you were dancing. You’re magnetic, and so charming.”

              “Thank you,” I said, smiling back at him. I often got compliments from customers, but they usually consisted of observations along the lines of “nice tits” or “hot ass.”

              “I don’t really do this,” he continued, rubbing his smooth head briefly. “But would you like to have a drink with me, maybe?”

              I found it hard to believe that this man didn’t frequent clubs like this one. He looked like he could certainly afford it.

              “Of course I’ll have a drink with you,” I said warmly. Any of the dancers who got the customers to buy them drinks got a cut of the profits. It could get pretty lucrative. “Have a seat while I powder my nose. I’ll find you.”

              The man looked surprised and pleased. “Excellent. I can’t wait. What can I order you?”

              “A ginger ale would be perfect.” I batted my eyes at him and went to the dressing room just as the bouncer handed me a thick wad of bills. This day was going really well. I’d done amazing for the fact that it was so early in the day. It was funny to imagine that all of the businessmen that frequented the club did so on their lunch breaks. Did any of their coworkers know what was going on?

              “Why’d you order a ginger ale?” another dancer asked as she walked in to the dressing room, apparently having overheard my exchange with the customer. “Don’t you want to get your drink on — and make even more money?”

              “It’s too early for me to start drinking,” I laughed. “I’m working all day, and I don’t want to fall when I go back on stage.”

              “If you play your cards right, maybe you won’t have to go back on that stage at all,” the dancer said, unzipping herself out of her costume and stepping out of it. Her breasts suddenly swinging free did nothing to faze me. I’d been shy, at first, but that was a luxury I had to leave behind me almost immediately. Girls walked around back here in almost nothing all the time.

              “What do you mean?” I asked, finger brushing my hair and spritzing some hairspray in it to help hold the curls.

              “I mean this guy looks nice,” she said, toweling herself off and applying some deodorant. “Maybe you can keep him company all day and get an escorting gig for tonight. Much easier than shaking your ass around the pole, getting sweaty and sore.”

              “I don’t mind shaking it around the pole,” I said. “You really think this guy would go for an escort?”

              “Honey, he’s smitten,” the dancer said. “Go for it.”

              Smitten? That observation usually would’ve worried me. I fully realized that most of my job was all about leading men on, making them believe in the fantasy that I just might want to go home with them. But I always held back — particularly from the escort end of the business — because it made me uncomfortable extending the fantasy out of the club.

              But now, when I needed money the most to help Antonio, I realized that I would do anything to get it — including taking whatever fantasy this customer had in mind as far as he wanted it to go.

              I slipped into a short black dress and reapplied my lipstick before locking eyes with my reflection in the mirror. I could do this. I had to do this. Antonio’s life depended on me getting that money.

              For a half a second, my heart leapt to my throat as I walked out to the club floor. Had my “smitten” customer departed, standing me up after all of that? With Antonio on my mind, I looked harder, scrutinizing every single table.

              Finally, though, and with a sigh of relief, I found him. He was sitting in the VIP area, tucked away into a corner table, away from the prying eyes of everyone else in the club. This was interesting. Parker more or less determined which customers were VIPs, so if he was sitting in that section, I could really be in for a windfall of cash today. I just had to play my cards right.

              I affixed a sexy smirk on my face and walked over to the customer’s table, exaggerating the sway of my hips the minute he looked up and saw me coming. He brightened immediately — probably as much as I had when I’d realized he was seated in the VIP section — and hopped up, eagerly pulling out a chair for me.

              “Such a gentleman,” I said, raising my eyebrows before settling myself in the proffered chair. “Thank you. Your kind is rare these days.”

              “I apologize on behalf of all men,” he said, bowing gallantly before sitting down in his own chair. “Chivalry should never be killed. I don’t care who hates it. I love taking care of women.”

              This was sounding better and better, but I tried to play it cool. Yes, I wanted to catch the big fish, but if you yanked too hard on the pole, it might get spooked and let go of the bait.

              “That’s wonderful to hear,” I said. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. I just needed to slip into something a little more comfortable.”

              I dipped a shoulder, and the strap of my dress drooped down over my arm. The customer had to drag his eyes up back up to my face, and I tried not to laugh at him.

              “Your ginger ale arrived,” he said, coughing a little and scooting the drink toward me. In his rush — nervousness? — he sloshed a bit of the drink on the table and cursed. “Dammit. Sorry. I’m sorry. Did I mention that I’ve never done anything like this before?”

              “You did mention it, yes,” I said, taking the glass from him and sipping on the straw. Really, I’d have preferred water, but soda products and cocktails netted the highest pay. Ginger ale was light, and at least it wouldn’t make me drunk. Plenty of other girls loved to imbibe during their shifts. Parker didn’t mind as long as they could still do their jobs, but I didn’t like the feeling of being out of control in a job that required maximum concentration and coordination. Some dancers would get so wobbly onstage that others would take bets as to whether or not they’d fall during their routine. Falling meant earning Parker’s ire, and no one wanted that.

              “Well, I meant it,” the customer said. “I really don’t want you to think that I’m some weirdo who likes to hang out at these kinds of places in the middle of the day.”

              “What do you mean, ‘these kinds of places’?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Are you ashamed to be here?”

              He cringed and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. God, I’m sorry. I’m just so freaking nervous and you’re so beautiful.”

              I placed my hand over his, making him jump at the suddenness of the contact. His hands were so much bigger than mine, and the difference between our skin colors was intriguing.

              “There’s no reason to be nervous,” I told him, smoothing my fingers over the back of his hand. “We’re two adults in a place designed for adults to enjoy themselves.”

              He leaned close, looking a little worried. “This isn’t a brothel, is it?”

              I couldn’t help it. I burst into laughter. “Of course not!” I exclaimed. “Did you really think it was?”

              “No, no, I’m sorry,” he said, hitting his forehead with the heel of the hand I wasn’t holding. “It was stupid. It’s just that you’re way too hot for me and, I don’t know, maybe I’ve had too much to drink, but I felt like you were kind of coming on to me.”

              I barely managed to avoid rolling my eyes at him. Making men here believe I was coming on to them was part of my job.

              “I’ve offended you,” he said, quickly putting two and two together at my silence. “That is the last thing I wanted to do. I’m an idiot. I just — it’s been a really long time since I’ve been back in the game, okay? It was a whole other decade the last time I was allowed to be even the slightest bit attracted to someone.”