Aspiring Nobody

Chapter 7 Out of her depth

ERIN'S POV

Since it's my second trial night at the strip club, I change into the black shorts and stare at my over exposed arse cheeks in the mirror. These shorts are way more revealing than what I wore the first night. I nibble at my lip. I am not the sort of girl who prances around in next to nothing. Fact is, I'll be propositioned the entire night if I go out in the bar wearing these booty shorts.

Either way, there is nothing I can do about it. Best not to let the negative thoughts get the best of me. So I draw in a breath and then exit the change room, striding along the empty hall, trying to ignore what feels like a constant wedgie between my arse cheeks.

I peek out the crack of the staff access door, into the club, which is swarming with men and the odd woman. No other waitress in the bar is wearing the same revealing black booty shorts as me—which makes my calm mood turn foul.

Bloody Joey—how dare he single me out and make me dress like a stripper. If I were interested in becoming a dancer, I would have asked for a stripper's job. Driven by anger, I storm for the bar, passing a bouncer.

"Fuck me! Nice arse — sweetest cheeks I've seen all night!" he grins.

"Stop looking at my arse!" I say, without turning back to him.

I approach April, who is in filling a middy of beer. "Why am I the only one wearing these stripper shorts?"

She looks down at my shorts and shrugs. "Dunno? But I do know you'll get better tips."

I toss my hands in the air. "I'd rather eat a pin sandwich!"

April chuckles.

I grab a tray, ready to get to work, when the crowd roars. My eyes shoot across the room, past the tables, to the stage where Destiny is shaking her melon-sized breast to the crowd.

With my tray in hand, I sidestep a biker who wolf whistles as I pass. I don't belong here. Nor am I anything like these girls. I don't get off on seeing guys drool over me. I'd rather pack boxes in a factory than do this for the next six years.

Later on that night, while unloading dirty glasses from a tray, a gentle tap on my shoulder has me spinning around and expecting another customer. It's April.

April smiles. "Hey, sweetie. How's your night been?"

I shrug.

"Awful night, huh?"

Worst night of my life. "Don't ask."

She gives me a knowing nod. "It gets easier. Oh, Joey wants to see you."

Even though I hate this place, the sudden thought of losing my chance here makes me feel anxious all over again. "He does? Why?"

She shrugs. "No clue." Then she walks away.

Through the dimly lit club, I walk towards the tables. I ignore the strippers working hard to tease the money from the customers wallets. As I pass the table of laughing men, I see Joey sitting at the back of the club, alone. Is he about to dismiss me? Please, not yet. At least give me a week or two here to get some money behind me.

My eyes dart to the bouncer getting in between two men. Then to the second bouncer standing by Joey's table in a stance — legs spread, arms folded across his huge chest as he surveys the club. Joey watches me approach. He sets down his phone on the table and points to the chair opposite him. "Take a seat."

I do, almost sighing in relief to be off my feet.

Joey makes a clicking noise with his tongue. "I'll be straight with you, Erin. I've been observing you most of the night. Watching how you interact with the customers, and how they respond to you. You've got their attention." He rests back in his chair. "You also have mine... how would you feel about making some serious money?"

I am almost afraid to ask how. "What would I have to do?"

His eyes dart to the stage. "Dance for the customers."

Desperate or not, I'm not stupid. And after witnessing firsthand what the strippers must do to please these men, I know I could never do it. "Thanks, but no."

He pulls a face. "No... so soon. You haven't even had time to think it over." He rests his hands flat on the table. "How about this... how about we re-evaluate in a week? No pressure. In the meantime, you'll come back tomorrow night and do what you did tonight?"

I gulp. I have a job. Even if it is a nightmare job, my days of starvation are over. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Joey nods. "You're welcome. But I still want you to think about my offer."

I nod, even though I will not be changing my mind.

"I'm serious. A girl with your looks could make thousands a week, as opposed to the few hundred you'll make waiting tables."

Did he just say thousands?

The next day, I sit at my desk staring at the money I made from working at the club last night. One week of that, and I'll have some saving behind me. Not too much, but it's a start. This time I'll be more careful with my money. Which will mean budgeting and no impulse buying, not unless I have the extra funds to do so? My priority will be to stock my cupboards with food.

Working at the strip club is no dream job but it's a start. At least until I find something more suitable, and by suitable, I mean something that suits me. Something I am not ashamed to tell people about; and within walking distance from campus.

A knock on my door has me hiding the money between two books on my desk, before I make my way to the door. To my surprise, Mr. Styles is standing on the other side, looking tall and proud in a black suit and white shirt. I do my best not to let my chin hit the floor. It's not as if I haven't already noticed how stylish he is; however, seeing him so put together and classy catches me off guard. "Morning, Miss Edberg," he says with a faint smile. "Got a minute?"

I gulp. "You have the bill for your car, I guess?"

"No." He pulls at the collar on his shirt. "I'm here to apologize."

"Again." I mock.

"Yes, again. If you'll let me come in, I'll explain."

That's more than he deserves; I push the door open and he enters, smelling of musk and looking way too classy to be in my room. He stops between the bed and the desk as he looks around the tiny space. "I forgot how small and basic the rooms are," he says as he looks down at the books spread across my bed. "I don't envy you."

"And what is it you don't envy?"

He grins. "Besides this room, this dorm, the whole process ahead of you."

My eyes roll. "How about we get back to why you're here?"

"As you wish." He pulls the desk chair out, sits, and then extends his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. "Ryan and I got into an argument after I left the café the other day." He informs me. "He thinks I'm baiting you for sex — his words — not mine."

Yes, I'm aware. It's one thing to think it, but to accuse Styles of trying to sleep with me, well, that's overstepping the mark. "Sorry. I'll tell Ryan the truth."

He shakes his head, "don't bother."

"But he thinks--"

"I couldn't care less what he thinks."

"But you don't want him thinking... you know?"

"Let him think what he wants. We both know it's not true. I mean, what he's saying is laughable."

Laughable.

That stings. I don't want him to want me. But I have feelings and any form of rejection, even from a man as hard-hearted as him, doesn't feel so great. "Is that why you changed your mind about me working for you?"

"Yes." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Your brother, well, I'm sure we'll resolve this in time. But, as for right now, those statements are my primary concern. I'm hoping whatever differences you and I have — we can put aside to get the statements finished? Will you help me?"