risking her own safety to ensure Astrid’s.
“So she’s going to try to convince her to dance, and then what? If she agrees, they’ll put her on the schedule for some time next week?” I ask, already preparing the speech I’m going to give her when she gets home tonight about how I don’t want her returning to work there… ever. Not just to convince her to say no to the dancing, but as the makeup artist either.
She shakes her head. “No, without me there…” She winces. “Crystal will put the pressure on her to start tonight, I’m sure. And even as organized and sassy as your Astrid can be, I think she’d give in with the right amount of peer pressure. I mean, especially since she loves to dance anyway, and if she’s trying to pay for school, a thousand dollars in one hour could be the deciding factor that has her saying yes.”
Just then, my phone vibrates on top of the wooden desk as it comes back to life, and then another series of vibrations echo between my cell and my watch. When I lean forward, I have several texts and missed calls from Astrid.
Astrid: Soooo… question. How would you feel about me dancing (NOT STRIPPING!) for an hour tonight after I’m done with everyone’s makeup? Sort of like a go-go dancer situation in the dance club section of the club.
Astrid: A couple of the girls didn’t show up for work tonight, so they’re wanting me to fill in. Again, NOT TAKING MY CLOTHES OFF.
Astrid: Viking, need you to answer me. I really need to know if you’re not okay with this, because $1000 just to dance for an hour is really freaking hard to pass up.
Astrid: Tried calling and it went straight to voicemail. Are you on a 911 tele-appointment?
Astrid: Well, I think I’m going to do it. Just one hour. Added to the $920 I’m making off the MU jobs, that’s almost 2k in one night!
Astrid: Getting all ready to go dance! I have to leave my phone here in the dressing room, but here’s a pic of my costume so you don’t freak out. See? All covered up and it’s STAYING ON! I love you! See you soon <3
The picture shows her in a form-fitting baby-blue dress with short scrunched up sleeves and a low neckline. Her hair is now down and curly instead of in the bun she had it up in when she left this evening. Her smile is big and bright, and her eyes are a little nervous, but her expression conveys both excitement and determination. She’s so set on her goal, and it’s completely admirable, but fuck my life, I wish she’d just let me take care of her.
“Do you happen to know Randy’s full name?” Seth asks Heather, and she lifts her eyes to the ceiling as she thinks.
“Um… I think that’s actually short for his last name. Let me look at his Facebook really quick to see if it has his full name. I’m not friends with him, but I know some of the girls are, so that’d pull him up as a mutual friend.” She scrolls, and for some reason, I hold my breath. I don’t know why, other than the fact that she’s looking up the name of a most-likely killer who happens to be my woman’s boss. But something is tickling at the back of my mind. “Oh, here it is,” she says, and she slides the phone across the desk to Seth, who types the name into one of his databases.
“Oh, I know him,” he murmurs, leaning closer to the computer monitor and blocking my view.
My stomach drops. “You do? Who is it?”
“Well, I don’t know him, know him. But this dude tried to become a member of Club Alias years ago. You wouldn’t have met him though, because he didn’t pass our first-round inspection. Background check came back with all sorts of red flags, so his application was denied,” Seth tells me, and my skin prickles. I knew it probably wasn’t the most honorable man in the universe running a strip club that looks like A Secret when Astrid first wanted to take the job. But as a fucking mercenary who owns a BDSM club myself, I didn’t think I had much room to judge. Yet this is absolutely different. If he couldn’t even get past the initial application background check, then this guy is bad news, and that’s even before we know for certain