Her Dirty Bartenders (Men at Work #5) - Mika Lane Page 0,9
a lot of people in the gym were paid that way.
“Couple things,” I started. “First, I will need to leave a little early today… to talk to the mechanic about my car.”
Ugh. I didn't like lying to her.
“Sure. No problem” she said, glancing over at me with a smile.
She pulled into the parking garage under Altitude.
“And I thought I could give you some ideas I have for the gym. You know, to streamline operations and such.”
She pressed her lips together and side-eyed me.
“Now, wait until you've heard my ideas, Marn. Be open-minded.”
She avoided my gaze while we rode up in the elevator.
I continued. “I was thinking that instead of having someone make the rounds all day long picking up towels, that you could install a chute, where the members could drop them, and they’d go right to the laundry room.”
I waited for her to tell me the idea was brilliant.
But she didn’t.
She pulled me aside after we’d exited the elevator. “Stell. I’m glad you’re thinking about these things. I really am. But I'm not sure this arrangement is going to work out. You know, my dad always said not to hire friends, at least those who you value. And you know how much I value you.”
“What? Are you firing me?” I asked, my voice cracking.
She looked across the room and waved at someone. “I wouldn't really say that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check in with the front desk manager. Have a great day, sweetie.”
Shit.
“Hi. We spoke earlier today. I'm here for the hostess interview.”
A burly guy with black hairs sprouting from his nostrils gestured for me to take the seat opposite his desk.
Once I had, and could see him a bit more clearly, I found he also had black hairs growing out of the sides of his ears.
Don’t stare. Don’t stare.
But I couldn't take my eyes off his nose hairs. Didn’t he know he could easily trim those?
“So, Estella—”
I raised my hand. “Stell. Call me Stell.”
He took a deep breath. “Stell, how long have you been in Denver?”
“I just arrived a few days ago.” I’d decided not to tell any prospective employers I was on my way to LA. I didn’t want to hurt my chances.
His face brightened. “That’s great. Welcome to Denver.”
Geez. Everyone here was so nice. Not at all like the East Coast.
“So we have a private club, Stell. And we need escorts for the club. Our clients are high rollers, people who fly in from all over the world.”
I leaned forward in my seat. “I thought the job was for a hostess.”
He waved his hand. “Oh yeah. Well, that’s what we have to call it in Craigslist. We can’t come right out and say we’re looking for escorts.”
Well, that made sense. I guess.
“So what kind of escorts do your clients need? Someone to show them around the city and such? Because you know I’ve just arrived, and I don’t know my way around at all.”
Confusion washed across his face. “No, they don’t need to be shown around. They want escorts.”
He said it with emphasis, as if that might help me understand better.
But I didn’t.
“It pays very well. You get sixty percent of the fee, and the house gets forty.”
Huh?
Oh.
Wait.
Was he talking about what I thought he was?
No. No way.
“Um. Do you mean, like, I would, um… like have sex with these men?”
There. I’d said it. Best to be straightforward. That’s the only way to manifest what you want.
He rolled his eyes. “What the hell else do you think an escort does?”
Right. That’s exactly what they do. It was a dumb question.
I popped to my feet and started backing toward the door. “I think I misunderstood what you needed. I'm gonna head out now.”
I pulled the door open.
“Hey, before you go, do you know of anybody else who might be interested—”
But I didn’t hear the rest of the question. I dashed home in an Uber and as soon as I got arrived at Marni’s, opened a pint of maple walnut ice cream, and got in bed.
7
Robbins “Robbie” Stryker
“Hey Marni. Heard you had quite the good time sitting here at the bar the other night.”
She put a hand over her eyes and shook her head. “It was not my finest hour. If Maze doesn’t absolutely hate me, I will consider that a win.”
I continued setting up my garnishes. It was going to be a busy night and I didn't want to stop in the middle of it to cut up fucking lemons and limes. “Well,