I stare in the mirror at the tight black dress hugging my body, the hem cutting off mid thigh, while the spaghetti straps allow me to show off the tattoos covering my arms. The tall, black strappy heels I picked to match gives me a few extra inches, though not enough to stand out. My hair is in loose waves that barely spill over my shoulders, and I chose to wear the same red lipstick I wore on Thanksgiving.
My focus is pulled away when Harry steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on the top of my head. Even with the heels, he's significantly taller than me, and I can't help but chuckle at the height difference.
"Hi," I mutter, placing my hands on his arms to wrap him even tighter around me.
"Hi," he repeats, smirking at me in the mirror. "You look beautiful."
I feel my cheeks flush, and I avert my gaze from his intense eyes to stare at my feet.
"Thank you," I whisper as he leans down to press a kiss on my shoulder, sending a chill down my spine.
"Everything is going to be fine, you know?" He says against my neck.
We're about to leave for The Heat, the first club on the list that Charles is sending us to to scope out, and suffice to say I'm nervous as hell. He lent Harry and I one of his SUVs so Harry's car wouldn't be recognized, along with a small bluetooth earpiece so I can still communicate with Harry while he waits in the car.
At least I won't be completely alone.
I inhale deeply through my nose before exhaling. "I know," I nod, meeting his eyes in the mirror once more.
He offers me a small smile before kissing my cheek; it's a long kiss, like he's afraid to break it.
Maybe I'm afraid for him to break it, too.
"Come on, baby," he says, squeezing me tightly one last time before letting me go to walk towards the door.
• • •
"Do you remember the plan?" Harry asks once we're in the car, driving towards The Heat.
I pick anxiously at my cuticles, careful to avoid the black polish Harry painted on my nails last night.
"When I get inside, order a drink to blend in while I keep an eye out for the owner, and find the best dancer," I sigh, looking at Harry's profile in the driver's seat.
He's focused intently on the road, a crease between his furrowed brows as he pulls the ring in his lip between his teeth. My eyes drift to the dark tattoos covering his neck, tracing each line with my gaze before trailing down the sleeves of his black Bad Omens hoodie to where his tattooed fingers are tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the unknown song playing. I study every angle and curve of his body as if it's the last time I'll ever see him, wanting to soak in the image of the man I lo-
"And?" He asks, briefly flicking his gaze to me.
I blink a few times, tilting my head in confusion. We've gone over this plan countless times; even though there are just a few instructions, he wanted to be sure I was fully prepared for tonight.
"And what?"
"And you stay on the phone with me the entire time," Harry says. "So I know if you need me to come in there to help you."
I smile to myself, shaking my head. "Of course," I chuckle. "How could I forget?"
He smirks. "You'll be in and out," he states. "It'll be a breeze."
I hum, nodding my head as he pulls up to a shabby building on the outskirts of LA. A purple neon sign with the name of the club hangs above the double doors, and a matching sign of a seemingly naked girl flickers to the left of the entrance.
"Hey," Harry coos, gripping the back of my neck to grab my attention. I turn to look at him as he studies my face. "You've got this, princess."
I smile weakly before leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on his lips, careful not to smudge my lipstick. "Where's the bluetooth?" I wonder, looking around between our two seats in search of the device.
Harry reaches into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out the smallest earpiece I've ever seen. My eyes widen. "That's it?" I question, pointing to it as he holds it out to me.
He nods, picking it up from his palm with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. It looks even smaller when it's in his long fingers.
I carefully take it from him, slipping it under my hair to tuck it into my ear.
"Press the button on it," he orders, lifting his hips to pull his phone out of the front pocket of his tight black jeans.
I do as he says, holding down the single button until I hear a high-pitched 'BEEP', and see the screen of his phone light up. An unknown number displays, and he slides the bar at the bottom to answer the call, triggering another sound from the bluetooth. He holds his phone up to speak into it.
"Hello?" His voice echoes through the device in my ear, making me smile. "Can you hear that alright?"
"Yep, loud and clear," I say, pulling my hair over my shoulder to ensure the earpiece won't be seen.
"Alright," he sighs, his eyes locking with mine one last time. "You ready?"
I purse my lips. "I guess I have to be," I breathe.
He chuckles sadly before bringing his hand up to brush away the strands of hair that have fallen onto my forehead. "Like I said, in and out," he repeats his words from a few minutes ago. "I'm going to pull the car to the side of the building, so it's not as obvious."
I nod my head before giving him one last kiss and opening the door to step outside. The crisp, December air hits my bare arms and legs, nearly causing my teeth to chatter as I walk to the front doors. I hold my black clutch tightly in my hand to feel for the small pistol Harry gave me, just in case. I straighten my shoulders, holding my head up high as I step inside the building.
The room is dark, aside from the white spotlights shining on the stage where a dark-haired girl in a black, lacy bra and thong set is dancing, as well as soft yellow lighting above the bar. I watch in awe as she swirls around the silver pole, somehow keeping steady on her tall, red heels.
A few round, metal tables are scattered across the floor in front of the stage, all of them taken by men dressed in suits as they throw money at the dancer. I look at the bar where three more men are standing, their eyes fixated on the blonde woman dressed in a sheer, red teddy as she makes their drinks. She has a bored look on her face, seemingly used to the attention she's receiving.
There's no bouncer near the entrance, but there are a few large men standing by the other doors lining the walls that likely lead to rooms where men can pay for private lap dances.
Or more, I assume.
A lot of these clubs are run by pimps, and I cringe at the thought of these women being forced into sexual acts behind closed doors. I shake my head, attempting to focus on the task at hand.
"Alright?" Harry's voice rings through my ear as I make my way towards the bar.
"Yep," I say quietly, trying not to move my lips too much so as to not bring attention to myself.
"What do you see?" He asks.
"Not much yet," I whisper, glancing around.
I see a few men pulling their focus away from the stage to stare at me, and I feel heat rush to my cheeks with their eyes on me. I clear my throat as I step up to the bar, the woman smiling as she makes her way over to me.
"Hi, hon," she says over the loud music blasting throughout the club. "Here by yourself?"
I smile back at her, nodding. "Just here to check the place out," I say. "Possibly looking for some work."
"Good response," Harry praises, making my heart flutter with pride.
"Well, I'm Amber," the woman introduces herself, placing her hands on the edge of the bar. "Can I get you something to drink while you look around?"
"A martini would be great," I hum, taking a seat on one of round, cushioned bar stools.
She taps the counter once with a flat hand before turning around to make my drink, and I take the opportunity to scan the room. With it being so dark, it's hard to make anyone out, and my eyes strain to pick up on any sight of the owner.
The dancer on the stage finishes her set, and the men cheer as she collects the crumpled money from the floor before stepping off of the platform. I watch carefully as she opens a door to the side of the round stage marked Employees Only, and I make a mental note to keep my eye on it.
"Here you go, hon," Amber says behind me.
I turn back around in my seat to see her sliding the martini glass towards me. "Thank you," I smile, placing my fingers on the clear stem before nodding towards the stage. "Who was that?"
"That's Misty," she responds, leaning on her elbows now resting on the bar. "She's one of the crowd favorites."
I hum, nodding my head as my eyes flicker back to the door. "How many dancers are here tonight?"
"Nine or ten," she shrugs. "With it being Saturday, and all."
"Find out who the best dancer is," Harry says. I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes.
No shit.
"Which one of the girls makes the money here?" I offer, taking a sip of the bitter alcohol.
She pulls her full lips to the side, and looks up at the ceiling in thought. "Probably Catarina," she says finally. "The men love her."
"Is she here tonight?" I ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as I can, despite the nerves coursing through me.
"Sure is, she's here every Saturday." She narrows her eyes at me, and I swallow harshly. "Why?"
I wrack my brain for an answer, my palms beginning to sweat. "Just curious," I clear my throat, averting my gaze to the drink in my hand. "Trying to figure out who my competition would be."
Amber laughs loudly, shaking her head. "I wouldn't worry about that," she states, pushing herself up and away from the bar.
"What do you mean?" I furrow my brows.
"A pretty little thing like you?" She laughs. "Marcus'll love you."
"Marcus?"
"The owner," she says as if it were common sense. "He's always looking for new blood, especially one that looks like you."
I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment before she turns and walks away to help another customer.
"She's not wrong," Harry snickers in my ear.
This time, I do roll my eyes. "Shut up," I chuckle under my breath.
Even in the most stressful situations, Harry has to make a joke. I guess I should be grateful for the lightheartedness.
"You need to find Catarina," he says.
My eyes scan the room again before they land on what looks like a confrontation by the stage door, making me push off from my seat.
A tall man in a black suit is standing in front of a woman wrapped in a long, white, silk robe. They both look pissed off as they scream at each other. I open my clutch to pull out a crumpled ten dollar bill, being careful to avoid the handgun, and leave it on the bar before quietly making my way towards the stage.
I walk slowly, careful not to draw any attention to myself, and pretend to watch the new dancer on the stage. She looks young, can't be older than nineteen, and all she's wearing is a pair of thin, blue underwear, her red hair pulled up into a slicked-back ponytail. My stomach turns as I watch the men in the crowd whistle, throwing money at her. It seems as if they're cheering louder for her, like her age alone is a turn on for them.
Men are disgusting.
"I'm not giving you a choice, Catarina," the man in the suit shouts, pulling my attention away from the stage. "Jim is paying good money for this. You will not make me lose this client."
I stand just a few yards away, both hands on my clutch as I try to listen to their conversation over the noisy club.
"I didn't agree to this shit, Marcus," she fires back, jabbing her pointer finger into his chest. "I'm not a hooker."
"When you're here, you're whoever the hell I want you to be," he says, folding his arms in front of his chest as he stares down at her.
"What's going on?" Harry says. I shush him for the distraction, taking a few more steps towards them.
"You're a fucking pig," Catarina scoffs, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"I'm the pig that pays your bills, bitch," he spits, making my jaw drop.
My heart clenches from hearing the words coming from his mouth. These poor girls having to deal with this is so unfair, so undeserving. Men like this belong in prison.
"Fuck you, Marcus," Catarina shouts, shoving him away with her hand before stomping past him.
I watch her as she storms towards an exit door behind the bar, my eyes flicking back and forth between her and Marcus. He straightens his suit, looking around the room with a grimace before walking through the Employees Only door. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, my brows pinching together as my heart pounds in my chest.
I have to follow her.
I walk quickly towards the exit, not caring if anyone sees me this time. I hear Amber calling after me, telling me I can't go out this way, but I ignore her as I push on the heavy metal door that leads to an alleyway.
I look around until I spot Catarina, leaning against the wall by a dumpster with a cigarette in her hand. She sniffles, and I can faintly see her cheeks shining with tears in the moonlight. Hesitantly, I close the door behind me and step towards her.
"Hey, a- are you alright?" I ask nervously, my teeth beginning to chatter from the breeze hitting my skin.
Her head snaps in my direction, and she wipes her nose with the back of her hand as she looks me up and down. "Who are you?" She sniffs.
"My name's Katie," I introduce myself, placing my hand on my chest as I come to a stop a few feet away from her. "C- Catarina, right?"
She rolls her eyes, and looks away again before taking a long drag of her cigarette, the cherry burning bright red against the darkness. "Why do you care?"
"Katie, what's going on?" Harry demands, his voice sounding panicked now.
I purse my lips, ignoring him. "I just want to make sure you're okay," I say. "I heard what happened back there."
"Great, got strangers eavesdropping on me now," she scoffs, tapping her cigarette with her finger once to ash it.
"No, it's not like that," I shake my head, even though it is exactly like that. "Listen, I-"
"Can you leave me alone?" She groans, glaring at me. "I want to have a pity party in peace."
"You don't have to do that, you know," I offer, taking a few more steps towards her. From here, the smell of the cigarette smoke hits my nose, making my face bunch up in disgust. "You don't have to live like this."
She laughs an emotionless laugh, and looks at me like I'm an idiot. "You gonna pay my bills, then?"
"Katie, answer me," Harry demands, causing irritation to build in my chest.
I understand that he's worried, but he's going to have to stop hovering eventually. I reach my hand up, and under my hair to click the button on the bluetooth, ending my call with Harry. He's going to be pissed, but I can't afford the distraction right now.
I can take care of myself.
"I just mean that there are other options," I explain, rubbing my hand up and down my bare arm to offer myself any warmth I can get.
"Tell that to my lack of a high school diploma, and my three-year-old daughter that has to eat," she says angrily, putting her cigarette out on the wall behind her.
My eyes widen, my stomach dropping at her admission. She has a daughter?
No wonder she's putting up with this bullshit.
She pushes away from the wall, and attempts to walk back inside. I quickly place my hand on her arm to stop her, and she shoots me a glare.
"What the hell?" She says, pulling away from me. "Who are you?"
"L- Look, I know you don't have to trust me," I start, my words sounding rushed and panicked. I swallow thickly before continuing. "But I know somewhere else you can go that won't treat you like- like that."
She looks me up and down, taking in my appearance before her shoulders relax. "Where?"
I feel the anxiety in my abdomen subside, but only slightly. I don't know for sure what working at Charles's club is like, but it can't be any worse than this place.
Right?