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“Thank you,” I tell him. I make a show of looking around his showroom. “Looks like Candy’s is the place to be again.”
He beams like this was all his doing. It wasn’t. This was Johnny putting Candy’s on the map as something other than a respectable strip club. There aren’t even any strippers on the floor right now. There are dancers, and the dances they’re performing are sexy, but the dancers themselves aren’t naked. Johnny’s completely changed the face of Candy’s. For the better.
I return his smile, although it’s pretty muted compared to his. “Johnny is still away on business. Do you mind having a drink with me?”
Dunnegan stands straighter. He’s pleasantly surprised as he offers me his elbow, and we walk onto the floor together. He leads me to our usual table in the midst of all the cheers sent my way. I wave politely, but I don’t lose focus of what I’m doing. I’m keeping Dunnegan preoccupied so Oscar and Brawler can get into his office to see what he’s up to. If they are doing the drugs/prostitution as a business, he’ll have records. Profit and loss statements. Bank accounts. Anything that we can use in our favor to prove to Johnny that Dunnegan is doing something behind their backs. Like Magnum said, if the only way Johnny and his father will care is if they’re making a profit off it and not sharing, we have to bring them that proof.
Let’s just hope nothing we find ties Johnny to this. It doesn’t seem right to me. Why would he go to so many lengths to bring a different crowd of people here if he knew what was truly going on?
Unless he wants more people around to hide what they’re actually doing.
Magnum brushes up against me. I glance his way, and he nods.
I take a deep breath. Right. Stay focused.
Dunnegan escorts me to my side of the booth. I slide in while he goes around the other side of the half-moon table, unbuttoning his suit coat so he can sit. A waitress approaches. She has a crop top on with long sleeves. The shirt itself is covered in sequins with the word Candy’s splashed over her chest. It’s much different from the outfits the waitresses were wearing the first time I came here. “Boss,” she says, nodding to Dunnegan. “Princess,” she says, nodding to me.
I gnash my teeth together. If people are going to call me Princess, they shouldn’t forget about the Uppercut part. I swear I should start slamming my fist into everyone who dares call me just Princess. “Kyla’s fine,” I say tersely. “Can you get me an Amaretto Sour and whatever your boss usually likes to drink?”
The waitress’s gaze cuts to Dunnegan. He waves her off. “Can’t drink while I’m working, I’m afraid.”
I lean back in the booth, pretending to look out over all the sweaty, dancing bodies. “This place has made such great strides. What a great accomplishment,” I tell him, stroking his ego.
“We’ve tripled our quarterly income in just thirty days,” he says. His gaze almost twinkles as he looks out over the floor.
I note some of the waitresses. The one we had was clearly fine. The others carrying drinks and empty glasses around us look clear too. There’s no outward signs of drug use like there was before when Johnny and I were here. The crowd has shifted from casual on-lookers to more participatory. “You’ve probably had to increase security.”
He nods. “Different clientele, different rules. But we’re still far and away in the black.”
I like that he’s being so upfront with me. He’s not just saying, “Sales are good, little girl. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” That would definitely cost him an uppercut to the chin.
“You seem interested in the Crew’s assets,” he throws out.
I smile at him because this isn’t hard to discuss at all. “I’m afraid Johnny’s beginning to realize I’m more than just arm candy,” I tell him.
“You have brains,” he says, smiling knowingly. “I bet he likes that.”
The smile that moves my lips farther apart is genuine. “I think he does. Or he’s beginning to.”
“The partner you choose is exceedingly important.”
“You married?”
He lifts his finger to show off his wedding ring. If he’s involved in this prostitution ring—if that’s what it is—I feel terrible for his wife. To know that someone you love would do that to women is just disgusting.
“Good for you,” I say. “A smart businessman like yourself chose wisely, I’m sure.”
“The foundation starts in the home,” he tells me, gaze drifting to the crowd. “If that’s broken, good luck making anything of yourself.”
Dunnegan says all the right things, but what kind of person is he, really?
The waitress who called me Princess comes back over and sits my drink in front of me. “We’ve named that the Uppercut Princess. We sell out of it every night.”
“Yeah?” I ask, using the small straw to stir the drink. I guess I’ve made it. I have a perfectly fine alcoholic drink named after me.
Dunnegan sets his hand on my arm just as I’m about to bring the glass to my lips. “Sorry I can’t sit with you any longer, but I have something to attend to. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
My smile turns tight. Fuck. I was hoping I could occupy him for longer. “Of course. Thank you.”