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Incubus Dreams :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 546 из 605I have to do something for the money, or he’ll know I told onhim. He wouldn’t like that, and he’d make sure I didn’t like it.”
“Who?” I asked.
Nathaniel was standing so close to me I felt him sigh. “Ronnie is already in the back, Anita.”
“The back?” I asked.
“Wherever they go, she’s already back there.”
Shit. “Take us to her,” I said.
“Dallas would kill me. We don’t get that many beautiful women in here.”
“We could just start asking where Dallas is,” I said.
Something close to real fear went through his eyes. “Don’t do that, please.”
I hate when I start feeling sorry for them. “What’s your name?”
“Owen,” Nathaniel said, “he said his name was Owen.”
“Alright, Owen, we don’t want to get you hurt, but if you keep us talking and something bad happens…”
Micah said, “Give him another twenty, then he can take us to the back.”
I looked at him.
“We can find her on our own, and he can pretend that he took us to the back for business.”
My look said it all.
He shrugged. “He won’t get hurt, and we’ll all get what we need.”
I wanted to argue, but Nathaniel’s hand had already appeared with another twenty in it. “I had a good night,” he said. What did that mean? A good night? Good tips? Or did Nathaniel do lap dances when he wasn’t on stage? I’d never asked. I hadn’t wanted to know, hell, I still didn’t want to know. I took the twenty and folded it together with the first one.
“Take us to the back, Owen.”
Another dancer appeared in what I finally realized was the outfit; loose shorts, T-shirt, and socks. This one had more meat on him and was cute in a boyish, unfinished sort of way. “Need another hand?”
It was Nathaniel who moved up, hugging me from behind, smiling, suddenly. “We’ve got all the men we need, don’t we, Owen?”
Owen nodded, and I watched his face remold itself, so that when he turned to his coworker, he was smiling and at ease. He took the forty dollars from my hand and tucked it into the top of his white socks. He made the movement strangely graceful and more feminine than it should have been, as if in his mind he was tucking a hundred dollars into the tops of silk stockings. It was a good moment and made me think better of him in the job he’d chosen. Before that one movement, I’d wondered what the hell he was doing here. Of course, with Guilty Pleasures as my measuring rod, everyone here looked too thin, too fragile, not muscular enough, not anything enough.
“Who?” I asked.
Nathaniel was standing so close to me I felt him sigh. “Ronnie is already in the back, Anita.”
“The back?” I asked.
“Wherever they go, she’s already back there.”
Shit. “Take us to her,” I said.
“Dallas would kill me. We don’t get that many beautiful women in here.”
“We could just start asking where Dallas is,” I said.
Something close to real fear went through his eyes. “Don’t do that, please.”
I hate when I start feeling sorry for them. “What’s your name?”
“Owen,” Nathaniel said, “he said his name was Owen.”
“Alright, Owen, we don’t want to get you hurt, but if you keep us talking and something bad happens…”
Micah said, “Give him another twenty, then he can take us to the back.”
I looked at him.
“We can find her on our own, and he can pretend that he took us to the back for business.”
My look said it all.
He shrugged. “He won’t get hurt, and we’ll all get what we need.”
I wanted to argue, but Nathaniel’s hand had already appeared with another twenty in it. “I had a good night,” he said. What did that mean? A good night? Good tips? Or did Nathaniel do lap dances when he wasn’t on stage? I’d never asked. I hadn’t wanted to know, hell, I still didn’t want to know. I took the twenty and folded it together with the first one.
“Take us to the back, Owen.”
Another dancer appeared in what I finally realized was the outfit; loose shorts, T-shirt, and socks. This one had more meat on him and was cute in a boyish, unfinished sort of way. “Need another hand?”
It was Nathaniel who moved up, hugging me from behind, smiling, suddenly. “We’ve got all the men we need, don’t we, Owen?”
Owen nodded, and I watched his face remold itself, so that when he turned to his coworker, he was smiling and at ease. He took the forty dollars from my hand and tucked it into the top of his white socks. He made the movement strangely graceful and more feminine than it should have been, as if in his mind he was tucking a hundred dollars into the tops of silk stockings. It was a good moment and made me think better of him in the job he’d chosen. Before that one movement, I’d wondered what the hell he was doing here. Of course, with Guilty Pleasures as my measuring rod, everyone here looked too thin, too fragile, not muscular enough, not anything enough.