NATALIE

On my way home from being stuck in Paul’s office under his watchful eye, I decide to stop at Swinging Richards to have a peek at how the décor looks with actual people in the club. There are no windows in the place, of course, so I was able to see how the lighting I installed looked in the dark, but I can’t help but be curious about the response.

If the patrons like my decorations then maybe there’s something I’ve done that isn’t shit.

Pulling into the parking lot I nod to the bouncer, climb out and leave my purse in the car. With Boone guarding the front of the property nobody would dare mess with my car, or anyone else’s. He’s the size of three men and angry-looking to boot.

“How’s it going, Boone?”

He nods, “Nat.”

As I head inside he grabs my arm, lowers his already deep voice to a rumble. “Some guys were here looking for you.”

I react with a start. “What? Who?”

“Nat, I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on, on the side, but they were Cockers. And people here won’t like that.”

My face turns to stone, my best defense. “I have no idea why there were asking about me. Or even who they were.”

Boone regards me with a knowing look. “I’m lookin’ out for you because you’ve always been nice to me. The knowledge stops here. I didn’t see nothing.”

Frowning I touch his arm on my way in. “Thank you, Boone.”

His hands clasp over his stomach as he returns to his statue-like watch over the business.

The Winter Stripper Wonderland I created is an assault on the senses after that news. Was it Max? Boone used a plural so it was at least two members of the Cocker Family. Max told me his parents were concerned with my working in a strip club. Were they checking up on me? Are they really that protective of their son?

I distractedly scan the club. There are more people here than normal and they all look a little freaky to me in my disturbed state.

“Hey Robert, I need a drink.”

Grabbing Belvedere vodka from the shelf, my favorite bartender strolls over without his usual smile. “Hey Nat.” He scoops ice into a bucket-glass and pours.

“Looks like there are more women here tonight.”

Nodding he glances around the club before reaching for a lime to squeeze. “Last night, too.”

“Yeah?” I cock an eyebrow and take a seat on the sturdy barstool. “My evil plan is working.”

“I’m getting a lot of Rudolf jokes about my cock,” he mutters, handing me my drink.

Rolling my eyes I sigh, “Oh, sorry.”

“But the tips are better.”

“Yeah? Small price to pay then.”

He locks eyes with me as I take a sip. “Never say small in reference to a man’s penis.”

“Noted.”

Glancing around again he leans over the bar, volume dropping. “Nat, some guys were here looking for you. Members of the Cocker family.”

Staring at Robert a beat I gauge whether he’s friend or foe. Unsure, I take the safe route again. “Don’t know anyone in that family.”

With a warning in his eyes he says, “Didn’t think you did. Because Paul wouldn’t want you involved with them in any way.”

My heart picks up speed. “Paul has nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not Paul who needs to be worried.”

“What are you saying?”

He motions for me to wait as a group of laughing and excited women approach the bar ready to spend money. “How are you sexy ladies doing tonight?” he smirks.

“Better now!”

“Merry Christmas to me!”

I let their voices blur as I search for a way to get out of this. Or find more information. I don’t spend a lot of time in this particular club since Paul’s main office is in The Dollhouse but I used to feel he and I were on the same wavelength, the way you are with your tribe. I haven’t spoken to A.J. about this again. He’s on a date tonight, not here dancing.

I have to take a chance.

Can’t keep running.

Circling the ice with a short straw, I bide my time until the women are served and the flirtation has moved to the stages.

Robert notices I’m still here and returns. Gathering courage, I ask him in a hushed voice, face calm and betraying nothing, “What does Paul have against the Cockers?”

“Dunno for sure.”

“Take a guess.”

He grabs a bar towel and starts wiping bottles to look busy. There are cameras everywhere to protect the dancers and the cash. Thank God they don’t have sound. “There’s a gambler in town who came up against the retired Senator a while back.”

Justin Cocker, Max’s uncle and his dad’s twin brother. I blink at my drink and ask, “And Paul and this gambler, are they friends?”

“Business partners,” Robert offers me a smile like I said something amusing. In a louder voice he adds for the benefit of one of the club’s bodyguards who happens to pass by, “Next thing you’re going to have me wear are green Speedos with a candy cane up my butt.”

The bodyguard chuckles and throws me a look.

I play along, “What about you, Al? Why aren’t you wearing the Santa suit? Still all black? Boring!”

“Nice try, Nat” he rumbles, heading away. “Won’t get me in one of those things.”

When he’s out of earshot, Robert says, “All I know is your friends shouldn’t show their faces here again if they want to stay pretty. We’re done talking.”

“Who was it? Just tell me that.”

“Couple of guys. Hot as fuck. One was a ginger. Other dark hair, green eyes.”

“Hair kinda curly?”

“Yep.”

I nod, sucking on my straw until all the vodka is gone. Setting it down I search for my purse and frown, “Shit, I left my wallet in the car.”

“Tip’s on me tonight…be careful.” He crosses to help eager customers and I dismount the stool like my heart isn’t beating a mile a minute.

I dip my chin as I walk outside. “Goodnight Boone.”

He watches me get into my BMW. As I back up, I see him in the mirror still watching me. Shuddering I pull onto Northside Drive, and hit the gas hard. “Fuck,” I whisper, slapping the steering wheel, wishing I’d never taken this job. Paul is connected to an illegal gambling ring. What did I expect? That he was heavy in philanthropy? I’ve seen the numbers of his books but nothing looked peculiar to me. Then again I just thought his clubs were pulling in the cash from dancing alone. Assumed he was that wealthy because of their success. He dominates Atlanta’s strip scene. But now I’m doubting that money is from where he claims. And I’ve been the one hiding it, haven’t I?

A tear slips down my cheek and I curse, wiping it away, furious at myself for being so naïve.