Oh shit.
I stepped around Luke and (do not ask me why) said in a girlie, airhead voice (in other words, using lingo punctuated by exclamation and question marks where they did not need to be). “Hi! I’m Roxie! Jet’s friend?” I put my arm through Luke’s and leaned into him, resting my head briefly on his shoulder. “This is my fiancé, Luke? He’s not here to watch the dancers! Real y!” I smiled up at Luke. “Are you, pookie?”
Luke looked down at me and gave one of his half-grins and shifted his body, so instead of my side leaning into him, half of my chest was pressed against him.
I pursed my lips, gave him a quick scowl, then rearranged my face and looked back at the black guy with a smile.
“We’re just here to watch Lottie’s fantabulous debut!” I announced.
The black guy stared at me.
“I know who you f**kin’ are too. Lottie’s been talkin’.
Shit, everyone in Denver knows who you are. This ain’t your f**kin’ fiancé. You’re sleepin’ with Nightingale. Fuck!” he shouted. Then he turned to Jet and pointed a finger in her face. “Somethin’ happens, I blame you.”
Then he stalked off.
Jet looked at me. “That’s Smithie. He’s real y a big softie.”
Maybe Uncle Tex was right; maybe Jet was a bit loopy.
Then Smithie came jogging back with his finger pointed at me.
“You dance?” he asked.
I stared at him. “Dance?”
He jerked a thumb to the stage.
“Holy cow,” I breathed.
“She doesn’t f**kin’ dance,” Luke answered for me.
Smithie threw up his hands and looked at Jet again.
“Another f**kin’ one of these guys. What’s wrong with strippin’? Fuck!”
Annette cal ed from the table. “I dance! Do you have amateur night or something?”
Smithie turned to her. “You don’t need f**kin’ amateur night, woman, you need to know how to f**kin’ move. You know how to move?”
Jason was looking pale.
“I know how to move,” Annette answered.
“You’l be drivin’ a Porsche in a month.”
“I don’t want a Porsche. I want a condo in Breckenridge.”
“For that you gotta do lap dances,” Smithie said.
Jason started to look sick.
“I’m not sure I want to do lap dances,” Annette said.
“Suit your-fuckin’-self. You wanna just dance, f**kin’
come in tomorrow. We’l get you set the f**k up!” I didn’t know Smithie, like at al , but even I could tel he was excited.