Dirty Sexy Alphas (Twenty Book Box Set) - Hannah Ford Page 0,116

above the knee. It wasn’t exactly sexy – you could find the same exact skirt in every Old Navy or Gap in the world, and it was completely appropriate for everyday wear.

But it was the only thing I had that showed a little skin. It was one of the only things I had, period. After aging out of foster care and then being kicked out of my group home last week (which, trust me, I wasn’t sad to leave), all my possessions fit into one garbage bag.

The sheer white top I was wearing was a button-up, and I wore a black push-up bra under it, so that the outline of the bra was visible under the shirt. Was that sexy? I wasn’t really sure. But I figured anything that allowed your underwear to show was a step in the right direction.

I flipped my head over and shook out my long blonde hair. It was the one thing I wasn’t self-conscious about. Everything else – my body, my smile, my skin – I could find flaws with. But I liked my hair. As I flipped back over, my eyes locked on my reflection again.

What the hell are you doing, Olivia?

I pushed my hair off my face and took a deep breath.

Just relax, I told myself. You’re twenty years old, stop acting like a baby. This is just a way to make a little money. A temporary way.

But I could hear the voice of Karl, my foster father, whispering in my head. This is where white trash girls like you end up.

I squared my shoulders, and as I did, the sleeve of my shirt slid up and I caught sight of the scars on my wrist. Twisted and red, tangled with a fresh red cut from last night. Last night, when I was missing Declan so bad I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d ended up in the bathroom of the shelter, quietly unwrapping one of the disposable razors they gave you as part of the welcome kit.

I quickly pulled my sleeve down. I needed to hide the scars. At least for now– I knew I couldn’t hide them forever. I couldn’t hide anything forever if I was going to be naked.

Anxiety welled up in my chest and the urge to cut, to take the edge off, welled up with it. My feet took a step away from the door, almost like they wanted to run away. But I forced myself to turn back.

And then I opened the door and walked into the club.

There was no one inside.

Actually, that wasn’t true.

There was a girl behind the bar, drying beer glasses with a cloth.

The girl glanced at me as I walked in, and then immediately ignored me.

I looked around, taking the place in. Long red velvet couches lined the huge, oval shaped room. There was a stage in the center, with an aisle that led out from behind a black and white leopard print curtain. A spotlight moved in a lazy pattern over the shiny black stage.

Even in here, it didn’t look like a strip club. It looked like a really fancy bar, or one of those big tents where they did fashion shows on America’s Next Top Model.

Part of me had actually been hoping it was going to be completely skeezy. If Loose Cannons had been gross and dirty and disgusting, I would have had an excuse to run out of there as fast as my legs would carry me. It was almost worse that it wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined.

“We don’t open until later,” the girl behind the bar yelled across the room. “We don’t do a day service.” From her clipped tone and snotty pout, I could only assume she’d been the one I’d talked to on the phone.

“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “I was told that I could come in anytime to try out. That it didn’t have to be during normal hours.” I didn’t want to try out during normal hours. Who knows what they’d make me do during normal hours? Maybe put me on stage in front of a bunch of people.

This got the bartender’s attention. She looked up sharply from the glass she was drying, and her eyes slid up and down my body. I could practically feel her judgment permeating the room, and I wondered for a moment if she had some kind of pull over who got a job here.

Maybe Loose Cannons was one of those strip clubs that was run by a woman.