The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,34

tell him.

Montgomery huffs. He finally looks up, his eyebrows forming one, bushy line. He quickly glances at the girl beside me and sighs. “What are you doing here, sweetheart? You’re still a baby. This place ain’t for you.”

The girl takes a deep breath and shrugs. “I don’t have any other choice. This is the end of the road. I either come in here and I make money, or my family is out on the street. End of story.”

“I don’t like when need drives young women to my doorstep. If they don’t want to dance, then they’re not gonna be good at it.”

“I am good at it. And I can fake enthusiasm just like all the other women you’ve ever met, believe me.” Her voice doesn’t shake, which is pretty fucking impressive.

Montgomery leans forward across his desk. “Forgive me for saying so, Sweet Thing, but you don’t look like you got much meat on you.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but you’re wrong.” She unfastens the fur-trimmed coat and lets it drop from her shoulders, revealing a heavily doctored Raleigh High cheerleading outfit. The skirt barely covers the top of her thighs, and the cropped top had been hacked low around the neck, displaying her considerable cleavage. The girl has tits, that’s for sure. Montgomery’s eyes her critically, like he’s assessing a horse before buying it, testing to see if it’s sound.

“All right. Point made,” he concedes. “When’s your birthday?”

“December eleventh,” the girl replies.

“Fine. You can dance here, starting tonight, but you don’t get naked until December twelfth. Understand?”

She nods, covering herself with her coat again.

“And you dance upstairs only. No dancing down in the basement.”

“Why, what’s in the basement?”

Monty squints at her. He’s deciding whether or not to tell her the truth, but in the end, he doesn’t have much of a choice. If she’s gonna dance here at all, she’s gonna find out all of the Rock’s secrets soon enough. “A club. A kink club. People go down there to fuck. If you’re smart, you’ll give the place and the customers a wide berth. You stay upstairs on the bar floor, you strip down to your underwear, and then you take whatever tips you make and get out of here. I see so much as a nipple and you’re done. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Polite. Good. I like that. What’s your name?”

“Halliday, Sir.”

Monty grunts. “Whenever you walk through the door of this establishment, you’re no longer Halliday. You’re Billie. Your very first stripper name. Lucky you. Consider yourself christened. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery.” Looking a little nervous, Halliday quickly backs out of his office.

Monty shoots me a weary look that speaks volumes. He thinks I’m a moron for even bringing her before him and he’s not afraid to show it. “Keep an eye on her, Moron. You vouched for her. She’s your responsibility now.”

Great. Just what I fucking need.

I’m back out on the bar floor and Halliday, or rather Billie is set up on the stage, when I feel my phone buzz in my back pocket. The text is from a number I don’t recognize.

(253) 441 9678. Sorry, classes are off. I can’t teach you. Harriet’s a great trumpet teacher. Best of luck – S.

10

SILVER

I was prepared for some fallout after the message I sent to Alex last night, but I’m hardly expecting him to be waiting at the foot of the stairs for me first thing this morning. He's wearing a Billy Joel t-shirt and a face like thunder. I manage a warped smirk as I walk past him, into the building. “If you think you’re gonna win me over with a t-shirt, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“What?”

“The Billy Joel…never mind. Look, I’m sorry, but I’m in the same boat as you. I don’t want any drama either, and if you’re gonna be rubbing shoulders with the football team, then as far as I’m concerned, you’re damaged goods.”

“Of course I’m damaged goods. What does the football team have to do with—” He stops short, as if he’s just pieced together why I hate them so much. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

I screech to a halt, and he nearly walks right into my back. I’m fizzing with the beginnings of anger as I face him. “I’m sorry, do I owe you an explanation for anything I do? Am I indebted to you in some way?”

His expression is stony. The muscles in his jaw tic like crazy as he flips