top that was barely two tiny triangles covering her nipples, sidled up to the bar with a blinding smile for Angelo.
“Hey, baby, I need a drink, I’m parched. That last set was brutal.” Then she slid her gaze over to Shaine, bold and interested. “And who are you?”
Angelo answered for him. “Down, girl. Brandi, this is Rocco Pacheco, our new bartender.”
“So you’re replacing Tommy?” Brandi asked. Shaine just shrugged as if he couldn’t care less who he was replacing. “Hmm, big shoes to fill. Everyone liked Tommy. Well, everyone except Angelo.”
“The guy was a prick,” Angelo said with a small smirk. “And he didn’t seem to know his place.”
“You were just jealous,” Brandi replied, still watching Shaine, her gaze as probing as Angelo’s, except Brandi’s stare lingered just a little too long on the areas that interested her more.
Angelo pushed a blue drink Brandi’s way and she snatched it up, tossing an inviting smile at Shaine before walking away.
“Watch out, she’ll eat your heart for breakfast,” Angelo warned with a chuckle, but his gaze never left Brandi’s swaying ass as she disappeared backstage. “But she’s a wild ride.”
“So what’s the story with that one?” Shaine asked.
Angelo poured a shot of premium vodka and set it in front of Shaine. “The story is, that one is mine.”
Shaine chuckled and downed the vodka shot. “Duly noted. Anyone else you got dibs on?”
“Just that one. The rest are fair game.”
“Thanks for the info.” Shaine pushed away from the bar with his beer in hand. “Until tomorrow night, then.”
“Happy hunting,” Angelo called out as Shaine melted into the crowd.
Poppy walked backstage at Lit, taking a quick note how every eye was on her, openly judging with barely restrained mistrust and hostility.
For a stripper, a new girl was competition.
Poppy saw an empty dressing table and began to drop her duffel, but a redhead jumped in front of her with a dirty look.
“Keep walking, scrub.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was taken.”
“You don’t know sorry yet but you will.”
Poppy could break this redhead, but could Laci Langford, a small-town Connecticut girl?
Probably not.
Poppy refrained from engaging the hostile redhead and kept walking, finding a dresser in the corner of the brightly lit, slightly alcohol-soaked dressing room and plopped down her bag.
She didn’t have to wait long before someone Poppy assumed was the manager came up, a woman who looked impossibly perfect with a tight, honed body, long dark hair and big, perky breasts that looked too amazing to be real but too soft to be fake.
“You’re the new girl, I’m assuming?”
“And who are you?”
“Your only friend so lose the attitude,” the brunette returned. “Look, it’s real simple. You might’ve been hired by the boss or maybe you’re blowing the owner and you think that you’ve got some kind of safety net, but the fact is we run this bar and if you piss us off, you’re out of here. Get it?”
Poppy knew there was a hierarchy in strip clubs, and judging by this woman’s stance she was looking at the ringleader, or at the very least the one the other dancers respected. So it would behoove her to be nice.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I could use a friend,” Poppy said, trying to make amends. “My name’s Laci.”
“Brandi,” she replied, sliding her behind on Poppy’s dressing table, eyeing Poppy openly. “So, you have that fresh-off-the-bus look. Guys love that. Some will even try to save you. If you play it right, you could make a mint off those ones.”
Poppy nodded as if she appreciated the advice. “So how does this work? How much does the house take?”
“You pay thirty dollars to the house for the privilege of dancing, and then whatever tips you make the house mom takes 20 percent. The rest is yours.”
“And who is the house mom?”
“That would be Big Jane,” Brandi said, pointing to the older lady, who was maybe forty, talking to a short busty blonde. “She’s a bitch but she keeps the really insistent guys off us because no one messes with Big Jane.”
“Is that a problem here?”
Brandi leveled a cynical look Poppy’s way. “Honey, you dance topless for a bunch of men with too much money and a sense of entitlement. What do you think?”
“So I should maybe be real nice to Big Jane?”
“If you’re smart.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
Finished with the blonde, Big Jane found her way to them and Brandi took that as her cue to leave.
“Brandi tell you how things work around here?”
“Yes,” Poppy answered, taking in every detail about the older woman. Probably a former stripper, but hard living had taken its toll. Little pockets of jiggly flesh softened her middle and her jowls, but otherwise she seemed in decent shape.
Not dancing shape, though.
Big Jane tossed a tiny sequined outfit to Poppy and said, “The sides have Velcro so it’ll come apart easily enough. But make them work for it before you show off your goods. Depending on your performance, we’ll see if you’re good enough to become a Lit regular.”
Unlike Shaine, who had a secure position as a bartender, she had to work to keep hers. Why should this be any different than anything else in her life?
Poppy smiled with feigned confidence. “Don’t give away my spot. I’m coming back.”
“We’ll see.”
Big Jane walked off, leaving Poppy to figure out how she was going to wow a crowd that was accustomed to seasoned exotic dancers when her talent had been in classical training.
Somehow she doubted the patrons were interested in seeing her arabesque.
Poppy managed to shimmy into the tiny dress, the sharp sequins scraping her skin as she pulled it up over her hips and over her breasts. It clung like a second skin but the Velcro held.
A bubbly blonde bounced over to her, bright smiles and brilliant blue eyes, looking all of sixteen, which immediately made Poppy want to run a background
