A Billionaire Gentleman (The Holden Brothers Book 1) Page 3

  Even though Sanders claimed the girls who chatted with patrons got bigger tips, I had no intention of mingling. It might hurt my individual tips, but it was safer than giving anyone even a hint that I’d be romantically interested. I was done with men.

  “New girl?” The massive man straightened and flicked his cigarette to the ground before grinding it out with his heel. His voice was softer than I would’ve imagined.

  “Yes,” I said, holding out my ID. “Sofi Stafford.”

  He studied it for a moment before handing it back to me. I hoped that meant he was always careful about who he let inside. “I’m Bruce. The other guy on this door is Paulo. You’ll want to have your ID for both of us for a couple days. We’re usually pretty good with names and faces, but we like to be sure. If you have any drastic changes to your person, we’ll want to see your ID again.”

  It took me a minute to realize that “drastic changes” probably referred more to plastic surgery than it did to a new haircut or dye job. The dancers here didn’t strip all the way down, but from what I’d seen last night, a boob job wouldn’t exactly be useless here.

  At least that was one thing I didn’t need to worry about. I wouldn’t have any problems filling out the costumes. I’d always been what my mom had called “top-heavy,” but after getting pregnant, I’d filled out even more. Mead used to say that if I’d gotten a tummy tuck after Dallas had been born, my figure would’ve been perfect. Fortunately, I’d seen women of all sizes and shapes on stage yesterday, so I doubted anyone would mind the few stretch marks low on my belly.

  “The door takes you into a short hallway,” Bruce said. “First door on the left is Sanders’s office. Second and third doors are the bathrooms. First door on the right is the dressing room and backstage. Second is the main floor.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled and hoped he couldn’t see how nervous I was. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but my confidence in my ability to judge characters had been pretty decimated by how wrong I’d been about Mead. It’d be better if I didn’t show any weakness.

  He held the door for me, and I stepped into the club. I was fifteen minutes earlier than what Sanders had told me, not wanting to risk being late on my first day. He’d given me a schedule of what to expect tonight, and I ran through the mental list one more time. I’d only be on stage for a handful of sets tonight, and always in the background, part of a chorus, so if I made any mistakes, they’d be more easily covered.

  The simplest of the routines, I didn’t even need practice. That would come tomorrow. The biggest thing I needed to learn tonight, Sanders had said, was dealing with costumes and costume changes.

  Women’s voices came from behind the door Bruce had said led to the dressing room and backstage. I willed myself to calm before opening the door and stepping inside. Talk dropped off as all eyes turned toward me. If I suddenly found myself naked, I could chalk this up as one of my worst nightmares and go home.

  “Hi.” I gave a feeble wave.

  A few of the women nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to whatever they’d been doing when I’d first walked in. Others looked me over the same way a head cheerleader looked at a new girl. Well, not all head cheerleaders, but all the ones at my high school had been that way.

  A few smiled, including one tall, athletically thin woman who looked like she was probably close to ten years older than me. Strawberry blonde waves, bright green eyes, and the sort of grace that came only from a true dancer, I had no doubt she was the star.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m Pasha Gumenick.”

  “Sofi Strafford.”

  “Let’s get you to your costumes.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I followed her. I was anxious about wearing so little, but I’d push through it. The one thing I couldn’t just grit my teeth and get through was figuring out how to put on some of the outfits I’d seen last night.

  “Each one of us has a section,” Pasha explained. “Anytime you get a new costume, it’ll be in your section. You’re starting in the background of a couple of the group numbers with the less elaborate costumes.”

  She said “less elaborate,” but I thought “less material” was probably more accurate. Three of them were literally the skimpiest of the costumes I’d seen last night. The fourth wasn’t much better. Technically, they all covered the essentials, but not by much. Then there were the heels.

  At five feet nine inches in flats, I wasn’t a short woman, but these would put me over six feet by a couple inches. Fortunately, I had confidence in my ability to move in heels. At least enough to do the simple steps I’d be doing tonight. After that, I’d have to see.

  The only positive thing I could say about these costumes was that none of them had the tall, feathered headpieces that the others did. Two had two gold circlets with shiny jewels, but those wouldn’t affect my balance or how I held my head. They’d probably be the easiest things I had to put on.

  “The group numbers you’re in have a couple other routines between them, so you won’t have to rush to change,” Pasha continued. “Piece of advice, though. Don’t linger. As soon as a number is done, come here and change in a specific order. After a while, it’ll be as much muscle memory as the routines themselves. If you take your time, it’ll be harder to move faster.”

  I managed a tentative smile. “Makes sense. Thank you.”

  “I have a while before I’m on. Why don’t you try these on, and we’ll see how well they fit.” She reached for one of the costumes. “Sanders is usually pretty good at sizing up dancers and hiring ones who’ll fit what we have available.”

  How about that, I thought wryly. I’d gotten this job because the dancer whose place I’d taken was around the same build as me. Hardly a surprise once I thought about it. I mean, this wasn’t exactly the sort of job that’d be impressed by my two years at the University of Nevada Las Vegas.

  Not that my less-than-extensive college career would’ve impressed anyone.

  “We leave our costumes here every night, and there’s someone who’ll dry-clean them. If there’s any alterations that need done, just write a note and pin it to the costume. If a costume gets stained or ripped, the replacement or repair comes out of our paycheck, unless a customer is responsible for the damage. That doesn’t happen often, though. Between Sanders and security, we rarely have problems.

  I nodded, remembering Sanders telling me the same things. It was nice to hear it from one of the dancers, though. It meant that my gut instinct about the manager was probably right. I could trust him. Well, I could trust him when it came to the job, anyway.

  “Are you going to change?” Pasha asked.

  I looked around for a changing room or a screen before suddenly realizing that other women were getting in and out of costumes right where they stood, chatting as if they did this every day. Which they did. Heat flooded my face, and I hated that Pasha could see that I definitely wasn’t as cool about all of this as I was trying to seem.

  “Get on with it. You don’t have anything different than we do.” A brunette catty-cornered from where I stood sneered at me. She was pretty, about my height though thinner, but her blue-green eyes were hard, glinting with something I could only describe as malice.

  “Fuck off, Alexys.” Pasha raised her middle finger without looking at the other woman. “Not everyone is used to taking off their clothes in front of other people.”

  I wasn’t going to let Alexys scare me off, but I still couldn’t bring myself to completely strip right there, talking to Pasha while I did it. As a sort of compromise, I turned toward the wall where my costumes were hanging and gritted my teeth. I could do this.

  As if sensing that I needed to feel like everyone wasn’t watching me, Pasha started talking again. “Any tips from group numbers are divided between the performers, but any solo acts you do, you get all the tips. Don’t let any of the girls tell you any different.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shooting Alexys a dirty look. At least I already k
new who the playground bully was here. I’d avoid her as much as possible, but just like school bullies, adult ones didn’t always let the prey practice avoidance. I’d dealt with them before, though, and I could do it again.

  “Sanders calls us showgirls, but the term burlesque dancers is a better description. Not exactly family friendly, but too many clothes to really be strippers.” Her voice had a hint of humor.

  I nodded to say I understood. My hands shook, and I didn’t trust my voice to stay steady. This was all getting far too real.

  “I know Sanders gave you the company lines about how there’s no nudity and no sex, but you don’t strike me as a naïve person, so you know there’s usually a workaround at places like this. Here, it’s the private dances. If someone requests us specifically, we have to do it, but if it’s a general request, you can pass a guest off to someone else. Most of us don’t because we get a percentage of every dance we do.”

  Pasha took my shoulders and turned me toward her, fingers tucking and pulling at different parts of my body with the sort of detached movements that told me she did this a lot.

  “Private dances don’t include nudity,” she went on, “but guests can request it for an additional cost, but it’s ultimately up to you. Technically, they’re supposed to keep their hands to themselves, but unless someone is trying to force you into sex, it’s a good idea to just let it go. As for ‘extra’ services…take them as cash for whatever the customer is willing to pay. We give the club a ‘bonus’ of twenty-five percent for that since it’s on their time, but we don’t have to claim it on taxes, that sort of thing. The club covers its ass and keeps down turnover at the same time.”

  I thanked her for the information but didn’t add that I wouldn’t need it. The dances I could handle, but I wasn’t about to do the other stuff. That was a line I wouldn’t cross. But I wasn’t going to look down on anyone else who chose to do it. I knew, better than most, how life could throw one hell of a curveball and change everything.

  “Excuse me,” I mumbled as I rushed through the dressing room, praying I didn’t turn an ankle in these shoes.

  I’d done it. Routine number one in a costume that was more revealing than any bathing suit I’d ever owned. I’d kept my head up and smiled until past the point where my cheeks ached. It’d been a relief to realize that the stage lights kept me from actually seeing the audience, and the music had drowned out all but the loudest customers. I’d almost been able to pretend we were just rehearsing.

  The steps had been as simple as they’d seemed, but I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to stay in sync with a group of other women. I’d managed it, though, and since no one had yelled at me, I was going to take it as a win.

  None of that, however, kept me from running into the performer bathroom to throw up.

  I didn’t have much to lose, but it still felt horrible. Once I was sure I was done, I came out to find everyone’s eyes on me. They didn’t even try to pretend they weren’t looking. In their eyes, I saw everything from sympathy to downright disdain.

  “Your nerves will ease up after a while,” Pasha said. “Best cure for stage fright is to push through.”

  I didn’t tell her that it wasn’t exactly stage fright that had made me puke. Sure, the idea of public speaking or performing in the theater made me nauseous, but I’d managed to get through both of those in high school. This was about sex, and I’d never been comfortable with that.

  “She’s wrong,” Alexys said as she tossed her sequined top onto a nearby chair. She turned toward me, not seeming to care that she was now wearing only a tiny thong. “The best cure is to quit. If you can’t handle that, you’re going to freak out when you actually have to do something difficult.”

  Surprisingly, it was Alexys’s words that had me squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin. “You have no idea what I can handle. This isn’t even a blip on my radar.”

  I stalked back to my area, gritting my teeth at the whispers behind me. I didn’t try to hear what they were saying because none of it mattered. I’d suffer any amount of embarrassment or nerves, or whatever came my way if it meant I got my son back. He was worth whatever the cost was to me.

  Six

  Deklin

  I’d gotten the assignment on Saturday, and now it was Thursday and finally time to get started.

  The Kanes had gotten in yesterday, but they hadn’t wanted me to meet them at the airport. Dad had been a little annoyed at that, but I figured they probably just wanted a day to acclimate to being back in Houston again. They’d asked for a slow start today too, so I’d spent the morning going over the property list with Dad.

  Again.

  Like I didn’t have the ability to read the files he’d given me on Monday.

  How would I ever convince them that I could be trusted with a normal workload if no one would give me the chance to show what I could do? It was bad enough that my own family didn’t see me as capable, but to not even let me have the same responsibilities as a non-family employee was humiliating.

  As the driver slowed at the second red light we’d hit, I went back over what I knew. Ronall and Aurelia Kane were old family friends of my dad’s, which meant they were probably both in their fifties, unless Ronall had done the same thing as Grandad and married someone younger than him.

  Dad hadn’t mentioned any kids and none of the files had any notes about school districts or anything else kid related. That meant their kids were either adults like my brothers and me, or they didn’t have any at all.

  I was glad for that. I had no idea how I’d be with kids. I hadn’t had any opportunities to be around any since I was one, and figuring out that I was bad with them while trying to find a home for their family wouldn’t have made a positive impression. I wasn’t quite as charming as Damon, but I could handle a couple our dad’s age.

  We pulled up in front of the Hilton, and I told the driver to wait while I went inside to get our clients. I felt like an idiot as soon as the words left my mouth, like I was trying to prove that I really was a Holden. Like I was used to taking wealthy clients to exclusive properties specifically selected just for them.

  Thankfully, the driver just nodded. He’d been quiet the whole way here, and it seemed like it was his personality as much as professionalism.

  I ignored the heat as I moved from the air conditioning of the car to the cooler hotel lobby, barely feeling the heat during my brief time outside between the two. I made it only a couple steps when a stuffy-looking man with a sneer stepped in front of me. His gaze flicked down to my empty hands and then behind me.

  “Excuse me, sir. Are you visiting a guest?”

  He must’ve been looking for luggage. “I’m here to pick up a guest, actually.”

  His smile was tight and didn’t reach his eyes. “And who might you be here to see?”

  “He’s here for us.” A man’s voice came from my right, a Texas twang in every word. “That is, if he’s Deklin Holden.”

  I turned toward him. “Mr. Kane.”

  He was a few inches taller than me, with dark hair and a pleasant face. Crinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth made me think he was probably halfway between Dad’s and Grandad’s ages, but he was definitely a well-kept sixty-something.

  “Ronall, please.” He held out a hand, and I stepped around the stuffy guy to shake it.

  “My dad called you to tell you I was coming?” I asked, trying not to let my annoyance bleed into my voice.

  “He did,” Ronall said, the twinkle in his hazel eyes telling me that I hadn’t done that good of a job. “But I would’ve known you anywhere. You look like your mother.”

  A pang of grief went through me. It’d been seven years since Mom died, but there were times it still hurt like it was yesterday.

  “You knew her?”

  Something on his face softened. “I did. And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Dad.” The woman who stepped up next to Ronall was about a foot shorter than me, slender and alm
ost too delicate for the thick chestnut brown hair spilling down her shoulders.

  “Deklin, this is my daughter, Aurelia.”

  So, not a husband and wife pair.

  I smiled at her as I reached out a hand. She was young. Probably barely twenty. She had a sweet face, an innocence that was beyond rare.

  “Nice to meet you.” My hand engulfed hers, and I felt like I needed to be careful, or I’d break her.

  “You too.” She blushed, her eyes flicking down and then back up again.

  Ronall cleared his throat, and it was my turn to feel a rush of embarrassment.

  “I have a car waiting. I’ll brief you on each property while we’re on our way.” I gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

  The town car had two seats, facing each other, and I took the one with my back to the driver. Aurelia slid in first and settled with her hands in her lap. By the time her father shut the door, she was twisting her fingers together as if something was making her nervous. I wondered what it was, but that wasn’t why I was here.

  I tapped on the divider window with a single knuckle and then held up my index finger. I’d given the driver a list of where we were going, numbered in the order I wanted us to go. As he pulled back into the street, I picked up the folder next to me.

  “My father selected the properties on this list, but if none of them suit you, we’ll find something that does.” I opened the folder and pulled out the top few sheets, handing one to Ronall and one to Aurelia. She looked surprised, but took it, giving me a shy smile. “Since you hadn’t yet decided what type of commercial properties you might want, we’ll look at homes first.”

  “Musket Lane,” Ronall said, noting the address of the first house. “I always liked the houses there.”