I felt a thril race through me that Eddie would do that for me.
Three squad cars pul ed up and the cops went in, the customers went out and we stood around waiting for the al clear to close down the joint.
Eddie came out with a man in uniform, scanned the crowd and hangers on and locked on me. He said something to the cop, disengaged and walked to me. He had blood on his white t-shirt but it didn’t look like it was coming from him, thank God. His eyes glittered, even in the dim light of the club sign and street lamps. When he got closer, I noticed his knuckles were bloody and I was guessing that some of it was his blood.
I didn’t think, I just snatched up one of his hands and stared at it, then looked up at him, stil holding his hand.
“We need to get you some ice,” I said.
Eddie didn’t get a chance to respond because Smithie lumbered up.
“How many times do I have to tel you bitches, no boyfriends?” he shouted at me. “Shit, girl. You are a f**kin’
pain in my f**kin’ ass. Do you know how much damage this badass motherfucker caused?” He turned to Eddie, “I knew you were trouble the minute you f**kin’ walked in.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I told Smithie and Smithie turned back to me.
“Bul shit. Jet, you owe me. I gotta replace broken f**kin’
furniture. Tomorrow night, you’re takin’ a pole.”
“One of your customers was al over her. Where were your bouncers?” Eddie asked, his voice strangely quiet which made it strangely scary.
“The boys were busy, it was packed,” Smithie replied.
“Jet can take care of herself.”
Eddie moved his body in a way that was openly threatening, even though I stil held his hand. Smithie pul ed himself up.
“He had her in his lap with his hand down her shirt,” Eddie said.
Smithie’s eyes got hard.
No one messed with his girls. It was strictly look but don’t touch at Smithie’s.
He turned to me. “No shit?”
I nodded.
“Goddamit, Jet. If you were at a pole, we could f**kin’
control it. You’re no good on the floor. You gotta take a pole, for my f**kin’ peace of mind if nothin’ else.”
“The other girls get it too.”
“Not nearly as much as you. You got that girl next door shit goin’ on. Fuck!”
“I’m not taking a pole, Smithie.”
“Tomorrow, you’re onstage,” Smithie said.
Eddie realized what we were talking about and his body tensed. You could see it; you could almost feel it and the open threat to Smithie turned hostile.
“She’s not going onstage.”
Smithie looked from Eddie to me, then back to Eddie.
He sighed and shook his head.