A good night's sleep was vital for my first shift at Club 11, but nervousness kept me awake for most of the night. I tossed and turned in bed until sunrise, the chirping birds outside, onomatopoeically tormenting.
Eventually, I climbed out of bed amid weariness, drank three coffees and scrubbed the flat to stay occupied. If nothing else, it put worries at bay until it was time to put the glad rags on.
I have wanted to get my foot in the door with Club 11 for so long, but now the opportunity has arisen, I am a nervous wreck. It's not only the fact Liam and I will see each other often that had my stomach twisted in knots. It's the job requirement itself. I must dance half-naked in front of libidinous men.
After learning Liam Warren has numerous unreadable physiognomies, I know he's not going to share any details regarding Kathy with me, not that I'm brave enough to interrogate him, but surely, a dancer, barmaid, cleaner or bouncer will remember something—anything that will help me uncover the truth behind my sister's disappearance.
I am not docile enough to probe Liam's loyal subjects straight away. It's going to take some time to befriend them. Earn their trust. I hope someone will mention Kathy without querying or investigating. Well, that's the best-case scenario.
I arrived at Club 11 earlier than expected. I'm not overly eager about strutting around in my underwear, but I wanted to make a good impression. Although Liam reconsidered his uncertainties about hiring me, I know the most challenging part is over. I have an impermanent job role in showing self-worth. Realistically speaking, Liam knows I am incapable of exotic dancing. I mean, my performance in his office was not only embarrassing but downright painful. I lack self-confidence, and I am unglamorous compared to the other women.
I'm still unsure how I managed to pull this off, but I will assume that my arse in his hands clouded his judgement. He's a warm-blooded male. I presented myself in lace underwear. In that heated moment, he overlooked previous reservations.
It wasn't a typical interview—I don't think. He was more concerned with touching me. Not to sound conceited, but his advances would have gone further had I been willing or acted on the gravitational pull that enthralled the sexual air between us.
Tonight, on arrival, it was a surreal moment for me. I omitted the club's queue, as the bouncers were expecting me. I had to sign a few forms before they gave me an employee identification card. One bouncer was kind enough to show me around before shift. It wasn't much of a tour. He half-heartedly pointed out the locker room for designated employees and showed me the bar and toilet facilities, and reminded me that the suites upstairs were off-limits without prior permission from the boss.
I had fifteen minutes before my first shift started, so I surveyed the dancers in the main room, who flawlessly and acrobatically worked those poles to gain male attention and paying clientele. I studied YouTube videos this afternoon to perfect pole dancing, but no amount of studiousness prepared me for such venereal finesse.
Inhaling deeply, I returned to the narrow staff room, dropped my handbag on the wooden bench and did a few breathing exercises. Rather than utilising the locker with my name on it, I stripped into underwear and stuffed belongings behind it as I don't trust people not to go through my bag.
I eyed the door, listening for any advancing footsteps. When assured nobody was near or due to enter, I stood on the bench and searched atop the lockers, tossing old clothes and dusty cosmetics aside. I went through old, discarded garments to find recognisable fabrics, but before I could check inside the unlocked cranes, I overheard footfalls and collapsed on a chair when a male barman strolled inside and entered the small bathroom cubicle. I blinked at his closed door, belatedly discerning our unisex surroundings. Oh, great.
In front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I re-checked my appearance. I opted for red lingerie with black lace trim and a pair of peep-toe heels that belonged to Kathy. I cupped my breasts and tested the weight in my hands, wishing they were bigger. If it weren't mandatory to remove the bra, I'd be stuffing the cups with tissues for developed cleavage. Shaking away negative thoughts, I rolled my shoulders back to release tension. "You can do it."
I exited the staff room and headed down the narrow hallway, only to be stopped by one of the dancers. Of course, she is gorgeous, with vibrant red hair, dazzling blue eyes, and designer shoes that I want to pilfer right from her feet. Her animal print corset adhered to her curvy figure like a glove. I inwardly scolded myself for not buying something so fiercely sexy.
She tucked her phone into her cleavage. "Come with me."
Her radiant confidence had my nerves skyrocketing. Suddenly aware of my unprepossessing image, I pinched my cheeks to add colour and smoothed a hand across my stomach to keep biliousness aside.
"I'm Cherry," she said over one shoulder. "And you are?"
Cherry's the name the men inside the alleyway mentioned last night. "Alexa," I said as she stopped next to a private door. "Where are we going?"
"It appears you already have a fan." She pushed the door open, motioning for me to enter. "He's paid for thirty minutes. A hefty payment, I might add, so don't mess this up, or you'll have me to contend with."
I glanced into the room warily. An older man rested on the leather sofa, one arm curled behind his head, a drink in his other hand, beer belly resting on his thighs. "What must I do?"
"Dance, straddle, shake your arse."
Straddling a man was not part of my job description. I am supposed to be stripping to music out front, not back here with a client. "Mr Warren said I'd be working the cages tonight." Her wicked smirk confirmed my doubts. She is unfriendly. "I wasn't aware I'd be giving private dances on the first shift."
She gave me a flippant hand wave. "Get over it, Alanna."
"Alexa." My arms crossed. "My name's Alexa."
"Whatever." Her hand curled around my elbow as she forced me into the room. "Do not mess up. The boss is already looking for an excuse to fire your useless arse." Her harshness boiled my blood. "I give you a week," were her last words before the door slammed in my face.
For a moment, I just stood there, looking at the door's glossed framework.
How the hell did I manage to irritate someone on my first shift?
"About time, Missy," the client growled behind me. "Come over here and give me that dance."
I'm not sure if I could stomach this.
I turned to face the guy, disgust rooting me on the spot. I watched in dread as he unbuttoned his shirt, displaying his wild, grey chest hair and faded ink.
"Well," he said, irked by my procrastination, "what are you waiting for?" He tapped his thigh as if encouraging a dog to mount him. "Get on."
Curling hair strands behind my ears, I lowered my eyes to the floor and moved towards him. His large hand came to my thigh, and I held my breath, counting inside my head. It's okay. He's not going to hurt me. It's all part of the job.
He helped me straddle him, positioning his folded arms behind his head. His heavy-lidded eyes disrobed the sheer lace on my body. He used cheap cologne to conceal his sweaty odour, but the rancid stench watered my eyes. I raised my chin, studied the wall behind him and rigidly rolled my hips.
His eyes fixated on my non-existent breasts, and a strained growl rattled in the back of his throat. His manhood hardened underneath me, and although I should imagine it's against the rules, he bucked his hips, his manhood prodding my inner thigh. "Stop teasing and get me off."
Oh, the disgusting human. Orgasms and sleazy touching are beneath my paygrade. His hands clasped onto my arse. Jaw locked in place, I shoved his shoulder and tried to climb off his lap. "I am not—"
To my relief, the door opened, and Blond Suit from the coffee shop appeared.
"Get out," the client yelled, his chubby cheeks flaring crimson. "I paid for a private session."
Blond Suit assessed the situation before saying, "Alexa, you have been summoned to Warren's office." He diverted his attention to the guy. "Two hundred extra for touching our merchandise. You know the rules, Hank. Additional trimmings come with the higher paid women, not our newbies."
Higher-paid women?
Additional trimmings?
Did Cherry shove me in here to give this man sexual favours for money? I paled at the dire thought. I have heard many rumours that a prostitution ring is one of many illegitimacies at Club 11.
Hank's face turned beet red. "I barely touched her!"
Blond Suit flashed his perfect white teeth. "Pay the piper motherfucker."
I staggered off the guy's lap, my legs almost buckling from converting into jelly. I'm glad Blond Suit intervened. I didn't want to be in this room, let alone dance for that man.
The Suit extended his hand to the guy. "Give me your wallet."
"No." Hank's jowls jiggled as he shook his head. "I already paid."
My eyes dash between both men.
Blond Suit snatched the wallet from inside the man's suit jacket and extracted wads of twenty-pound notes.
I had expected an altercation, but the guy sits there, watching the Suit help himself to cash.
"For you," the blond said, placing a stack of notes in my hand.
"This is a joke," the guy muttered under his breath.
"Thank you." I stuffed the money into my bra.
Blond Suit's hand went to my lower back as he led me into the hallway. "Nice rack."
I covered my breasts.
"Why are you hiding them from me?" He stood over me, hiking a brow, a toothpick balanced on his lower lip. "You realise the bra must come off tonight in a room full of people, so why are you nervous about me seeing them in lace?"
Blond Suit made a valid point. I lowered my arms. "Does Mr Warren need to see me right this very moment?"
"Yes." He gestured for me to follow. "By the way, the name is Bradley Jones, but nobody calls me that. Brad works, or handsome, or gorgeous..." His full lips pursed. "I can live with sexy."
I smiled. "Good to know."
"It's refreshing, having someone new work here." His tongue swept the toothpick to the corner of his mouth. "Bossman hasn't hired anyone for months." He put a shoulder against Liam's door. Even with a lowered posture, his intimidating and towering presence had me squirming. "I'm still trying to work out why he hired you."
I jerked an unsure shoulder.
"He was adamant after your little meltdown at the coffee shop that he wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot barge pole." His gaze swept over me. "What changed?"
Was it necessary to remind me of my shameful episode? "I guess he changed his mind." Lifting my pride-filled eyes, I placed my hand on my hips. "I can be quite persuasive."
"Yeah?" His bottom lip rolled between his teeth. "I can only imagine."
His suggestiveness burnt my cheeks. "Can you stop looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" he challenged, closing the breathing space between us. I put a hand on his chest, preventing him from moving closer, and his muscles tightened under my touch. He did not budge, though. "Are you talking about all the naughties going through my head and all that malarkey?"
I burst out laughing. "Naughties?"
His knuckles nudged my chin before he opened the office door and headed straight for the minibar. "I found her giving a private dance, working those hips and all that." Pouring himself a drink, he winked at me. "She's a timid little thing, isn't she?"
Brad and I both know I wasn't working shit. I'm probably the worst employee Liam's hired to date. "You wanted to see me."
"What private dance?" Liam ignored me, awaiting Brad's response.
"Cherry chucked Alexa into a private room with Hank."
Liam glanced between us. "I never hired Alexa for exclusive clientele." He knocked back a shot of whisky. "Get Cherry in my office."
Oh, shit. Liam's pissed. If Cherry weren't such a bitch to me, I'd feel bad for her, but why should I? She lied to me. I work for one person, the man standing before me. I'll remember that the next time someone else orders me to do something.
"Alexa." Liam eyed my lace-clad body. "I had time to rethink. You don't fit the criteria. No cages."
"What?" Job dismissal cannot be happening. "That's not fair. I made three hundred pounds shaking my arse. I fit the standards on some level." Okay, so that's a bit of an overstatement. If Brad hadn't entered the room, I wouldn't have made a penny. "Right?"
Brad chuckled into his glass.
"I didn't say life was fair. Besides, you shouldn't have been in that fucking room, to begin with."
"I'm sorry." I don't know why I'm apologising. His employee instructed me to go into that room. "Mr Warren, please?"
"No." Liam stood his ground. "As I said, you do not fit the criteria."
This man is doing a terrible number on my confidence. I have never once claimed to be beautiful, but I didn't think I was ugly, either.
What do those other women have that I don't?
I'd made a massive effort with my look last night, and I purchased new lingerie for this evening. Nothing pleases this man.
"What doesn't fit?" Brad frowned. "Alexa is gorgeous. She has a banging body. I reckon she'll adapt." He nodded his approval. "The men are going to love the whole young-and-innocent look."
Thank you, Brad. I am glad someone sees potential in me.
Liam glared at him, the muscles in his jaw ticking. "Her lack of expertise means she's unprofitable. How can she make me money if she cannot entice customers?"
Even with big hair, a face full of makeup, pretty lace and killer heels, Liam still believes I lack sexual appeal. I rest my hands on my hips, shaking my head. What a fucking asshole. Why beat around the bush? He obviously thinks I am unattractive, so just say the word, Warren. "Mr Warren." I'm back to begging. "I need this job."
Both men looked at me, but Liam was the man to respond, "You're not doing the fucking cages. End of."
There is no more I can do to persuade this man. I did everything in my power to convince him that I am capable, yet he still sees me as a naïve kid who is too incompetent to tempt the male species.
Liam's stare settled on my face. "I assigned you to the main bar instead."
"What?" I asked in perplexity. "The bar? As in pouring alcohol and serving customers?"
He gave me a curt nod.
I remained expressionless, speechless, but I was secretly thrilled. I assumed he was letting me go. If anything, working behind the bar is better for me. It means I still have my foot in the door without the obligations of stripteases or dancing for older men. "So, I have the job?"
Liam's eyes visited the ceiling. "You have the job."
Alexa, why not request a bar position to begin with?
A sigh of relief escaped my lips. "Great!" I said a little too enthusiastically. "Thank you."
"Great!" he repeated sarcastically. "Natalie is expecting you." He pointed to the door. "Leave."
Well, that's my cue to fuck off.
I hesitated by the threshold, held his eyes for a moment and whispered, "Thank you."
Closing the door in my departure, I swept bangs from my face just as Cherry ambled around the hallway corner. "Hey, Alanna." Her smile was bogus. "In the boss' office, already? That's not good." Her gleeful smile stretched. "So, I won't be seeing you again, huh?"
Is that why Cherry put me in the room with Hank? She wanted Liam to fire me. "Why did you lie to me?"
Cherry took her time to respond. "Alanna, you don't belong here. You're out of your depth. It'll be like flogging a dead horse trying to motivate you. I don't have time to cater to your needs."
"Well, you're out of luck." I faced her head-on. "Mr Warren happens to see potential in me. Now, I didn't want to start working here under a cloud as I had no intentions of making enemies. However, I'm not here to make friends, either. So, if you don't like me, that's fine. Let's stay out of each other's way."
Her upper lip curled. "You won't last five minutes."
I didn't respond, nor did I watch her enter Liam's office. I did, however, overhear him shouting, and even though it's childish, I couldn't help but smile. I don't want to fall out with co-workers. I can't afford to deal with scornful women. But I'm not here to put up with people's shit either.
The second I stepped behind the bar, a blond, Junoesque woman approached me. "You must be the new girl. I'm Natalie. Wear black shorts and a white vest on shift. Your heels will do fine." She scrutinised my shoes. "For now. Do not style your hair in braids or ponytails. You must wear your hair down. Be sure to wash your hair daily, too. We don't want you looking all greased-up while serving customers." Flinging long, blonde hair over her shoulder, she hurled the club's uniform at me. "You need to be on your best behaviour."
I held the new clothing to my chest. "Okay."
"And prove loyalty," she added. "We've had girls like you working here before," she said in disdain, "dipping into tills for rent money."
I am not a thief. "Excuse me?" Where the hell is this conversation going? And what is with the bitchiness in this place? Is everyone who works here so judgmental and hostile? "I would never steal."
"There are cameras everywhere." She pointed to the rotating camcorder in the corner, directly in line with the bar. "Mr Warren can see everything from his office."
"Oh," is all I mustered.
"Well, get changed," she ordered, returning to the long line of customers awaiting service.
Inside the staff room, I slipped into the new uniform, checked my hair in the mirror and reapplied makeup before heading back to the bar.
I have never poured a pint in my life, but I used the key fob to log onto the cash register, glanced at the never-ending customers, and yelled, "Next."
Over the next few hours, I proved to be the worst barmaid in history. I take far too long to make drinks. I spilt more draught beer than I supplied. And I have already smashed about seven glasses.
I tried not to notice the camera recording us, though I couldn't help but wonder if Liam was sitting in his office, watching my every move. The concept made me even more uncomfortable, and it certainly didn't help with progression tonight.
"Move over!"
"You're not serving quick enough!"
"Seriously! You will not last two minutes in this place if you don't move your lazy arse!"
"I've no idea why he would hire someone like you. It's pathetic. He feels sorry for you."
The last statement had my eyes rolling.
What is Natalie's problem? She spent the entire night biting off my head like a rabid dog. Did I expect to walk in and make friends instantly? No. However, I did not think making friends would be this difficult. These scornful women have not given me a chance. They prejudged me the second I walked into the building and decided I was not worth getting to know. And I swear they're determined to force Liam's hand, hoping he'll see sense and fire me.
"Two beers," a customer ordered.
I grabbed two-pint glasses and lost one straight to the floor. I inhaled a deep breath to calm myself down before retrieving another glass.
"Anything else?" I finished pouring the beer and grimaced upon seeing more foam in those glasses than alcohol.
I'm shockingly shit at this.
Hesitating with his wallet, the guy stared at the overfilled pint glasses in dissatisfaction.
"I'll cover those," I was quick to assure him. He shouldn't have to pay for such unworthy drinks.
"No. Don't be soft. I can see you're new." Handing me a twenty-pound note, he gave me a warm smile. "Keep the change."
Why can't my co-workers be as friendly as the customers?
"Liam said you can leave now," Natalie informed me as she strolled past with a wine crate.
"Seriously?" My eyes instinctively looked at the camera. "I have another three hours left. Are you sure?"
"Yes, new girl." Opening the chiller, she stockpiled unopened bottles. "Why else would I say it? Fuck off."
"Peace out, bitch," I muttered, leaving the bar.
I changed back into my clothes in the staff room, collected my bag, and headed out front, grateful for the fresh air. I walked to the London Underground to grab a tube. I was exhausted throughout the journey but kept my eyes open until it was my stop.
As I left the train and took my short walk home, I mulled over tonight's antics. It was too busy to even converse with any employees. I hope it's not going to be like that every shift. I don't mind the hustle and bustle, but how am I supposed to find out about Kathy if holding a conversation in that place is almost impossible?
Did I even take a break?
Will those women ever like me?
Quit moaning, Alexa. You wanted the job, well, now you have it.
I reached the flat, unlocked my front door and slammed it behind me.
Working for Liam Warren is going to be a lot harder than I thought.
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