Page 6 of Fang (Lotus MC: San Antonio #2)

M y nerves are shot.

After the incident yesterday at the club, I’ve not been able to relax. I wish I didn’t have such hang-ups when it comes to violence, but I do.

It’s weird how the mind works. I can strip my clothes off in front of dozens of men without a sweat, but let one of those men throw a fist, and I’m a mess.

Dear old Barbara sure fucked me up real good and made my brain relation violence to her.

All the beatings I had to endure because her customers’ eyes lingered on me a little too long.

The number of those same men who would attempt to visit me after Barbara passed out should have made stripping nearly impossible for me, but for some reason it doesn’t.

It’s like they never got to hurt me in any real way, so I can compartmentalize that trauma.

Not the same with Barbara and her fists.

I remember once she beat me because a guy she had over saw something that made him ask her if she had a daughter. Of course that was my fault.

Shaking my thoughts away, I try to focus back on my book.

The goal of hospitality management systems is to…

I hope Fang won’t fire me. He said he wouldn’t, but I saw the look on his face.

He was angry about the situation. I wish I could have stopped it or at least convinced him it wasn’t serious, but I couldn’t.

He sent me home. I feel guilty that I took the money he thrust at me.

I wish I could be more prideful and truly reject it.

Unfortunately a missed shift means not getting my car insurance paid or tuition or room and board.

No, I had to accept the charity.

“Look at who we have here,” Zak whispers as he slides across the table from me.

My body is on high alert. We are at a back table in the library. One where no one will see us. The only saving grace I have is that if I scream, everyone will hear.

“I didn’t even know you knew where the library was. This is a book. Have you seen one before?”

He growls. “Shut the fuck up. You think you are so much better than everyone, but I know where you come from. You’re the product of a whore mother who forgot to abort the baby before it became full term.

I’m surprised you can even read with all the drugs your mother did while she was pregnant with you. ”

He’s making assumptions, but unfortunately he is right about them.

My mother didn’t stop doing drugs during pregnancy with me.

I only know this because she told me after I asked about who my dad was when I was six.

Surprise, surprise, Barbara has no idea who could have possibly fathered me.

She doesn’t even have a list of names to check.

“I read at a college level. Are you still using picture books?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes. “Come on, Cami. We’ve known each other a long time. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to sleep with me. I’m popular. I could change your life. I’d even be willing to be your boyfriend for a week or two to help elevate your status. Give me a shot.”

I hate how he speaks to me. As if letting him fuck me would be doing me a favor. He’s disgusting, and I hate him.

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on Earth and we needed to repopulate for our survival.”

I stand, shoving my stuff in my bag.

As I stalk off, I hear him yell behind me, “That mouth of yours feels so good, Cami. Thanks for the quick suck in the stacks.”

I hear giggles from others as the librarian shushes them. She gives me a suspicious stare. I don’t bother to correct her thoughts.

I can only hope she doesn’t report me to the administration.

Sure, I could come up with the money I need for books, but it would be a black mark on my record.

I am really hoping to be able to apply for some more scholarships to cover the remaining schooling I have.

I can’t do that if I have disciplinary issues.

The stress from the past twenty-four hours starts to plague me. I can feel myself about to break. I make it all the way to my car before I do. As soon as I’m behind the wheel, I let my head fall to it as the tears fall.

Sometimes life feels like it’s so hard. Like it is trying to crush me until I’m nothing but blood and bones.

I let myself feel the hopelessness of the way life is working. I give myself one moment to let myself throw the pity party that does nothing to help me. I break.

Then I suck in one breath. Another. I slowly build myself up piece by piece. I remind myself that I can endure a lot. This isn’t the end for me. I will fight until I have a decent life. I won’t be a stripper forever.

Letting out one last shaky breath, I pick up my phone and call the club.

“Boudoir. How can I help you?” Erin, one of the bartenders answers.

“Hey, Erin. It’s Cami. Is the boss around?” I ask.

“Nah, he hasn’t come in yet. What’s up?”

“Am I still on the schedule for tonight?” I ask.

“Hold on.”

I can hear her walking through the club, the cordless phone likely to her ear. The background noise changes as I imagine her walking through the hall to the locker room.

“Yep. You have the nine and eleven slots on the main stage. Eight and ten on the side stage.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Fang kept his word.

“Thanks. See you soon.”

I hang up, pushing away thoughts of how I am no better than Barbara. We both sell our bodies, only I draw a line as to how.

Zak was right. I’m not better than anyone.

I’m waiting on Cami to get here. I know she’s coming. Erin informed me as soon as I walked in that she had called for me.

I had planned to give her another night off, but I remember seeing how ashamed she was when she accepted the money from me. She didn’t want to but couldn’t afford not to.

So I wait for her. I know she has class until four. She is scheduled on the side stage at eight, so she will likely get here around seven thirty since she doesn’t walk the room like the other girls.

Like clockwork, she walks through the doors at seven thirty. I watch as she heads down the hall toward the locker room. I follow behind her.

“Cami, can I have a word with you?” I ask her.

The other girls sneer her way as she nods, stepping into the hall. I lead the way to my office, closing the door behind her before going to take a seat on the edge of the desk.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

Any vulnerability she showed yesterday is gone. Back is the hardass that walked in, auditioned, then made demands. The feisty girl I wanted to reward for knowing what she wanted and sticking to it.

“If you are going to fire me for having emotions, then do it. I’ll find another club to dance at.”

Her words are tough, but there is some worry in her eyes. She knows as well as I do that all of the other clubs in town are the kind that offer a full-service menu. I doubt they will be allowing her to refrain from any extras.

“Did I say I was going to fire you? Why is everything always a fight with you?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Why else would you pull me aside to ask me how I am? I know how it works.”

I shake my head. “I would be an idiot to fire you. You bring us in the most money of any of the girls as I told you yesterday. You don’t do drugs. You follow the rules. You are the perfect employee.”

I can see the relief fill her as her shoulders relax.

“I’m fine. I don’t want special treatment. Forget it ever happened.”

I consider her words, but I know the truth. “I can’t. I don’t like that anyone under my protection felt scared for their lives. You work for me and therefore have the weight of the Lotus MC behind you.”

“That’s nice to know, but I’m not exactly going to be screaming that from the rooftops. No offense to you or the Lotus. I appreciate you letting me work here, but I’d rather the whole world not know I’m a stripper.”

I lean back a little further. “Why are you a stripper? You are a pretty girl. You could get a job elsewhere. You don’t seem to enjoy the work, so why?”

“That’s not really any of your business.”

She’s right, of course. Doesn’t stop me from being curious. I assume she does it to pay for school, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else to it.

“You’re right, but keeping you safe when you are within these four walls is my business. You will have a guard escorting you to and from the stage from now on. If anything breaks out, they will be tasked with getting you out of harm’s way as quickly as possible.”

“No. I don’t need that,” she argues.

“You might not think so, but it doesn’t matter. When you enter this building, you become mine. Happy will be by your side for the time being. If for some reason he has other business he has to do, he will assign someone to you.”

Little does she know, she is mine outside this building too. I don’t know how, but the woman has crawled her way under my skin.

“Why are you doing this? The girls already hate me. This is going to paint a bigger target on my back. I don’t want special treatment,” she protests.

“Maybe if those other girls worked half as hard to develop their routines and show up on stage, then they would become our big earner. The reason you are so captivating on stage is because you lose yourself to the music and you let your body move with the music as if from memory. You aren’t trying to act overly sexy or pull the men in with some fake smile. You are authentic,” I tell her.

“Sounds like you pay close attention to me. You have a little crush?” She snorts.

Her words hit, though. I do pay attention to her. Way more than I should. Something about her calls to me. I meant what I said. When she dances, I get lost with her in whatever world she has disappeared to.

I won’t admit it to her, though. Not right now when she is looking at me with fear in her eyes.

“I pay attention to all my dancers. How do you think I decide who goes on when? Why do you think you get prime-time spots? The men like to watch you more than the others. That means if someone were to, say, knock you over like yesterday and you were to break a leg, we would lose out on a lot of money. That would be bad for the club. So you will accept your guard without complaint. You will let him do his job while you get your ass on that stage and do yours.” I get a little heated at the end, hating that she is fighting me.

“With a smile on my face, right?” she snarks.

“If that’s what it fucking takes, then yes. With a smile on your goddamn face.”

She grimaces. “I won’t fake a smile for them.”

“Good. Then don’t. Just make me fucking money. Now go. Happy is waiting in the locker room for you,” I tell her, having texted Happy when she arrived to wait there for her.

“Fine. He better stay out of my way and not touch me. If he makes sexual comments, I won’t hold my tongue.” She turns, opening the door.

“Cami, if he does either of those, you tell me. I’ll cut his fucking tongue out.”

She shivers, shaking her head. “Always violence. Isn’t that what got us in this situation in the first place?”

She slams the door behind her, leaving me running my hand down my face.

Of course she’s right. Violence got us here, but I won’t let anyone disrespect her again. Not in my establishment. Not even one of my brothers.

The girl is going to be a fucking problem, but fuck if I can do anything about it.