“What about that girl who was just here?”
The guy behind him shrugged. “She said something about a new dancer named Sugar.”
“Who’s supposed to be superstacked,” added his friend. “Now if you don’t mind, it’s our turn.”
Adam’s coworker dragged him to the back of the line. “Man, for a guy who didn’t want to come to Frisky’s, you sure are getting into it.”
Adam smiled weakly, his mind churning. Was Bridget actually dancing at the club using the name Sugar? He knew she had to be on a tight budget, but this wasn’t her style at all. She always seemed embarrassed about her great body, hiding it in baggy sweaters and her brothers’ old flannel shirts.
Her brothers. Oh, shit. If she were stripping and Colin and Dane found out, they’d lead-foot it to Chicago and drag her back to Wisconsin faster than a cheap lap dance. And then they’d tie his body in knots around the stripper pole for not keeping her safe.
Finally, it was their turn. Adam paid his cover charge and followed Tom into the club. He scanned the smoky darkness for any sign of Bridget. When he didn’t see her in the crowd of men and a few women, he forced himself to check the stages.
A quick scan found nothing but strange faces. He relaxed slightly, but still was apprehensive. Tom caught his elbow and steered him to the bar. “I’ll have a Glenlivet Scotch, neat. What’ll you have, Hale?”
Adam definitely needed to keep his wits about him. “I’ll have a club soda.”
Tom grimaced. “Club soda? Come on, you’re allowed to live it up a bit at a strip club on a Friday night.”
“All right, make it a Guinness.” He hadn’t had the dark Irish brew in a while. Tom rolled his eyes and paid an exorbitant amount for the probably watered-down Scotch, while Adam dug out money for his Guinness and some information.
He pushed a twenty toward the muscled bartender. “I’m looking for a girl.”
The bartender nodded at the nude bodies behind them. “You’re at the right place.”
“No, not one of those girls.” Adam checked the dancers again just to be sure Bridget hadn’t appeared. “I’m looking for a specific girl—medium-tall, long, wavy brown hair with light-blond streaks, dark blue eyes and freckles. And a killer body,” he forced himself to add, despite his embarrassment about speaking about Bridget like some jerk.
Tom set down his Scotch, his eyebrows raised. “Holy crap, Hale, you’re never finding a girl here with all that going on—except for the killer body.” He and the bartender traded grins. “I thought you were crazy when you dumped that swimsuit model you were dating last fall—what was her name?”
“Daria.” Adam picked up his bottle and took a long drink of the dark beer. Unfortunately, the rich barley flavor didn’t wash the bitter taste from his mouth.
“Yeah, Daria. She didn’t look a thing like what you’re asking for now. Didn’t she have dark hair and eyes?”
Adam nodded. Daria had been dark to the core. Luckily he’d learned that before it was too late. “Are any of the girls named Bridget?”
The bartender shook his head. “These girls don’t use real names. But feel free to keep looking.” He turned to another customer and ended the conversation.
Tom nudged him. “We’re not gonna find any girls if we sit on our asses at the bar. Let’s go mingle.”
Adam followed him into the middle of the club. A redhead with a stuffed sheep skipped off stage, replaced by an S-and-M-looking black-haired chick dressed in leathers and carrying a whip. No way that was Bridget, even with a wig. The Goth girl had much smaller breasts. Adam winced. Pierced nipples, too. Some guys must get into that scene, but definitely not him. He was more of a natural beauty connoisseur.
He’d lost Tom already. The other broker had sprawled onto a couch, a curvy Hispanic girl swaying on top of him. Judging from the glazed expression on his face, he’d be busy for a while.
Adam shook his head. Sure, he’d been young and dumb during his first couple of years at the Merc, going to his share of strip clubs with the guys. He’d enjoyed the attention from the dancers until he realized they were as good at trading as he was. Possibly better.
After all, they both sold possibilities. His were grains, livestock, something tangible. The dancers sold possibilities of themselves as girlfriends or lovers, a much more remote possibility. The corn crop always came in, but guys almost never hooked up with strippers. Those who did paid through the nose for the privilege.
The DJ changed the music to a sultry soul tune. “Let’s all give a warm welcome to Sugar, our newest Frisky’s Kitten!”
Adam choked midsip on his Guinness. That was the name Bridget had mentioned in line. What if it were Bridget, bared to the raucous crowd as she twirled on the stage? Jerks like Tom drooling over her creamy skin when he was the only one who should see her naked.
Wait, no one should see her naked, especially him. He turned in dread to the main runway.
A pair of shapely legs strutted out. As the dancer advanced, Adam caught sight of an extremely large pair of breasts. Not that he’d memorized her shape or anything, but he didn’t think Bridget was quite that built. Finally the light hit the dancer’s face. The knot in his stomach eased and he drank more beer. Sugar was pretty, but not as pretty as Bridget.
The catcalls and whoops grew to a deafening chorus as the Frisky’s Kitten did her stuff. He caught some of her act as he continued to look around. Someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Buy me a drink?” A muscular brunette ran her long fake nails along his arm. He took a double take. No, it wasn’t a man after all. Maybe she knew something about Bridget.
“Sure.” He ordered another Guinness and watched with a skeptical eye as the bartender poured something for the dancer from a bottle under the counter. Probably iced tea. He paid up and they sat together on a couch.
“I’m Electra.”
“Adam.”
“Your first time here? I would have remembered you.” She gave him a sly wink.
“My first time here in a couple years. I wish I’d known what I was missing.” He winked back. “My friend Bridget recommended this club.”
“Bridget did?” She gave him a puzzled frown, glancing around.
“So you know her?” He mentally cursed his over-eagerness when he saw her withdraw. Great, now she thought he was a stalker. “I’m a family friend, just trying to make sure she’s all right.”
No luck. Electra finished her drink and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks for the drink.” She gestured to his lap. “Unless you want something else, I should be getting along.”
“No, no, thanks. But if you do run in to Bridget here, please tell her Adam’s worried about her.”
The dancer gave him a sarcastic look. “Sure you are.” She stood and weaved her way through the crowd, stopping to smile at a skinny little man who couldn’t take his eyes off
