strode up to the end of the bar and waved at the bartender setting up. “Hi, I’m Barbie Jones. This is my first night.”
Jerome wiped his hands on the towel tucked into the waistband of his jeans and leaned forward, hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, Barbie. Jerome.”
“Good to meet you, too.” She grasped Jerome’s hand. “Do you need any help back there?”
He shoved a tray of small candles and cards printed with drink specials toward her. “If you could set up the cocktail tables with these, that’d be great.”
Britt hoisted the tray and started depositing candles and cards at the tables closest to the stage.
Leanna had mentioned a nice bartender in her infrequent phone calls, but Britt had no intention of revealing herself to anyone—nice or not—until she could get a handle on the situation. Anyone in this club could be complicit in Leanna’s disappearance.
The cops had just done a cursory survey of the employees and had come away satisfied with Sergei’s explanation that Leanna—or Lee, as she was known here—had quit to take off with a boyfriend. As flaky as Leanna was, there was no way she would’ve taken off like that without telling her big sister—and there was that voice-mail message.
As Britt moved to the second row of tables back from the stage, a woman approached her and tapped her on the shoulder.
“You really shouldn’t put those candles on the tables ringing the stage.” The woman, outfitted in the waitresses’ uniform of short black skirt and white blouse, scrunched up her nose, shaking her head.
“Why?”
“Because when the show starts, those guys in the front row might start a fire when they reach for the dancers.”
“Oh.” Britt squeezed to the front line of tables and grabbed one of the candles. “Jerome didn’t tell me that, but it makes sense.”
The woman shrugged. “What does Jerome know? He’s stuck behind the bar. I’m Jessie Mack, by the way.”
“Hi, Jessie. I’m Barbie Jones.”
Jessie narrowed her heavily lined eyes. “With a name like that, are you here to be a waitress or do you wanna be one of the dancers?”
“Oh, no, waitress only. Barbie’s my real name, and I can’t dance.”
Jessie snorted. “If that’s what you wanna call it.”
“Are you here to waitress or dance?”
“I’m a waitress...for now, but I’m trying to get on the stage.” She flicked her fingers at the stage. “You make more money shakin’ your stuff, and I’m all about the dollar bills.”
“Do you have to audition or something?” Britt transferred another candle from the front row to the second row of tables.
“Or something.” Jessie grabbed two candles and two drink cards from the tray and placed them on the tables behind her. “There’s a vacancy for sure. One of the dancers left recently, and I know Sergei wants to replace her.”
Britt’s heart took a tumble. Jessie couldn’t be talking about Leanna. Her sister had assured her she was waitressing, not stripping, but then, Leanna didn’t always tell the truth.
“Have you talked to Sergei about replacing her?”
“Have you met Sergei yet?”
“No. I interviewed with Irina.” She’d wanted to meet Sergei, but Irina told her he interviewed the dancers only and left the cocktail waitresses to her.
“Yeah, that explains why you think it’s so easy to talk to Sergei.” Jessie put her finger to her lips as more women entered the bar. “Just stay on his good side...or stay out of his way altogether.”
As the waitresses and the dancers flooded the bar, their chatter filled the air. Britt noted the heavy accents of some of the women and figured them for Russians since both Irina and Sergei were Russian, too.
When she found herself alone with Jessie again at the end of the bar minutes before opening, Britt asked, “Why do so many Russian women work here? Is it because of Sergei?”
“Sergei’s father. He owns the place, along with a few others in the Valley. He has a Russian restaurant with a banquet hall in Van Nuys, so sometimes we work out there for events.”
She touched Jessie’s arm. “What you said before about auditioning for Sergei. What does that entail?”
“You mean what do you have to do for the audition?” Jessie rolled her eyes. “Use your imagination. That’s why I haven’t applied yet. I’m trying to get my courage up.”
The bar opened for business, and Britt didn’t have time for any more conversation or snooping. The customers kept her hopping with drink orders.
She bellied up to the bar for another order, reading off a slip of paper on her tray where she’d scribbled the drinks. As Jerome hustled to fill her order, Britt turned and wedged her elbows against the bar, watching the topless women undulate under colored lights.
“You want chance on stage?”
Britt jerked her head to the side, almost colliding with a dark-haired man with glittering eyes and a smirk on his lips.
She tucked her hair behind one ear. “God, no. I’m perfectly happy being a waitress. I can’t even dance.”
The man’s eyes tracked down her body, and Britt craved a shower. “You have body of dancer. Maybe one day.”
A chill pressed against her spine as Britt realized the identity of the man. “You must be Sergei. I’m Barbie, the new girl.”
“Barbie, Barbie Doll.” He touched his fingers to his forehead. “Welcome to Tattle-Tale.”
He sauntered off toward the stage, his tight shirt clinging to his taut frame, and Britt sagged against the bar behind her, puffing out a short breath.
With a clenched jaw, Jerome placed the last bottle of beer on her tray. “First time meeting Sergei?”
“Yeah. He seems...okay.”
Jerome’s fingers tightened around the long neck of the beer bottle before releasing it. “Just don’t get on his bad side.”
“That’s the second time tonight someone has warned me about one of Sergei’s sides.” She lifted the tray. “I can handle Sergei.”
“That’s what they all say.” Jerome turned away without further explanation.
Britt couldn’t stay out of Sergei’s way if she hoped to discover why he’d lied about Leanna leaving her job and town with a boyfriend. Why would he say that? Unless that was what Leanna had told him.
She needed to get into Sergei’s office, the sooner the better. She’d already discovered he left before closing time, so she’d have to figure out a way to stay behind after everyone left.
As
