Page 326 of The First Taste

I straighten and stash my earnings in the bra slash top, my lips thinning as I survey Mike. “Slow night tonight.”

Mike crosses his arms and gives a half shrug. “Rules are rules, baby. I’m still going to need twenty five bucks. That’s my part of your take, sugar.”

The way he says it, so cocky and selfsame, really pisses me off. “I thought you said I would be rolling in the money I make here. You come around, asking me for the money I made busting my ass, passing out drinks while these guys fucking leer at me…”

He smacks his lips. “When I said that, I thought you would be working the pole. If you would just agree to dance two or three times a week you would make a killing. That face? That body?”

He sucks in his lower lip, looks at my body, and makes a sound. “You would kill it, baby girl.”

It’s everything I can do not to glare at him. I dart my tongue out, wetting my lips. “And what percentage would you make from me then? Hmm?”

He smirks. “You’d still be making more money.”

I pull out the wad of cash and count out his twenty five bucks. It hurts to see the money leaving my possession so soon. But I have better things to do than stick around and argue with Mike.

“Here.” I hand it to him. “I have to get going. I have a long walk home.”

He catches my wrist, tugging me closer. He has my right hand in his grip, my damaged hand. If I wasn’t already on edge, that fact makes me out-and-out defensive. I tug my hand, but he doesn’t let go.

Instead, he gives me what he must think passes for a sultry look. “If you won’t make me money, why should I even keep you on the payroll? Huh? Unless you can think of some other way that you could convince me to let you stay?”

My heart leaps into my throat. I rip my arm from his grasp, on high alert. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Come on, now.” He chuckles and saunters toward me.

My heart thrums. Prickles of sensation run across my skin. I step backward and my ass hits the wall.

Shit, he’s got me trapped.

Mike just has the same stupid smirk on his face. “Don’t act like nobody has ever asked you to get on your knees for them before?— “

My body is already in motion before he can finish his sentence. I pull his shoulders in and shoot my knee upward, then dig my nails into the flesh on his cheeks. Feeling like a trapped animal, I fight dirty.

“Shit, what the fuck?” Mike shouts, pushing me away. “What the fuck, Cora? You are so fucking fired?— “

Cora. That’s the name that I go by now. I swallow, darting toward the door. My brain is more interested in helping me escape than bandying words back and forth with my manager, who is bent over and clutching his face. He starts to straighten while I make a beeline for the door.

Just as I’m about to open it, someone beats me to it. I rear back, ready to fight some more. But it’s only Jazmine, the dancer I have come to know pretty well these past eight months. She takes one look at Mike’s face and my panicked fight-or-flight stance. She leans in, grabs my wrist, and yanks me out of the dressing room. She slams the door in Mike’s face and turns me loose, herding me toward the exit door.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go. Outside…”

I push through the bar of the exit, emptying myself into the back parking lot in the Louisiana heat. Stepping out into the night air feels like pulling on a thick sweater. The lighting out here is harsh, bright streetlights huddled around the whole lot.

I don’t slow down or stop moving, though. Rushing by the dented and rusting cars that seem like a permanent fixture in the lot, I keep going until I am bathed in velvety shadow.

Breathing hard, I lean down and rest both of my hands on my knees. Looking back, I see Jazmine come up behind me. She purses her lips, her gaze measuring.

“You okay, Cora?”

I blush, looking at the ground, and nod. “Fine.”

The word comes out strangled. I put my head down, feeling dizzy. If Constantine saw me right now, he would die laughing.

Little Penny can’t even run away from people right.

I squeeze my eyes shut, like that can somehow stop my ex’s voice from filtering through my head.

“All right,” Jazmine says. “Come on. You probably don’t want to go back inside The Pink Pony tonight. Maybe ever. You should let me give you a ride home.”