Leo
I hate this fucking club.
Hate my brother for wasting our money on it.
Hate that I have to clean up his damn mess, just like always.
“I don’t care about repairs. Just paint the damn walls. The faster we get that done, the faster we can get this place back on the market,” I growl at Danny, the guy who is in charge of fixing the place up.
This place is a dive, and it is just one of many I have to sell at a loss because my little brother is a fucking idiot. Millions of dollars down the drain. I’d be a billionaire already if my brother had some common sense rattling around in his head. That’s over now. As soon as I liquidate his mistakes, I’m ending our partnership and striking out on my own. I’m sure he’ll be broke in a year. If it wasn’t for me, our company would have gone bankrupt a long time ago. He’s fucked up so many times now that the company itself has a terrible reputation.
Andrews Brothers Real Estate Development. We invest in shitholes.
I should be looking forward to early retirement, not starting a new company at thirty-six, but this is the hand I’ve been dealt.
“The wood by the stage is rotten, boss.” Danny lets out a sigh and motions me over. “It is a wonder it hasn’t collapsed already.”
“Oh no,” I respond, feigning concern. “Are you telling me one of the girls could get hurt?”
“Yeah.” He nods.
“Who fucking cares. They know the risk. Nobody in their right mind would dance up there, anyway.” I wave off his concern. “Focus on the painting.”
If the next owner wants to deal with the extra renovations, they can. I just want to unload this property as fast as possible. It is bad enough that I have to keep opening the place every night. The only thing that people want less than a rundown strip club is a rundown strip club that doesn’t have any customers.
You couldn’t pay me enough to walk through the doors of this cesspool if I didn’t have so much money tied up in it already.
I walk around, looking at the rest of the work, and open the interior of my jacket to take out a cigar. I light it up behind a plume of smoke, the hints of vanilla in the tobacco floating around my face in a haze that overpowers some of the repugnant odors. I don’t even want to know the origin of them. For all I know, there’s a dead body somewhere in the walls or floorboards.
“Excuse me?” An almost angelic voice calls out, and I’m drawn to the origin like it is my personal siren song. “Are you hiring?”
I turn to see a ravishing beauty standing at the doorway of the club. She walks inside, brushing her auburn hair away from her face and tucking it behind her left ear. Her eyes sparkle like emeralds that have been polished to perfection.
“Nah,” Danny says, walking closer. “Sorry, but we don’t have any openings right now.”
“Oh,” she replies, disappointment clear in her tone. “Sorry for bothering you.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “What kind of job are you looking for?”
There is no way a girl this gorgeous wants to take her clothes off for money. Not in a place like this, at least. She’s young, vibrant, and looks like she belongs on a runway instead of a stage that could collapse at any moment. Her clothes aren’t very expensive, but she wears the cheap dress she has on better than most, considering it probably came off a discount rack. Just like the worn shoes on her feet and the dollar store handbag hanging from her shoulder.
“Um, I was…” Her voice trails off and she motions to the stage behind me. “Dancing?”
I turn towards Danny, puffing my cigar. “Get back to work. I think we need to repair the stage after all.” I fire my order and immediately turn back to the ravishing beauty. “We may have an opening. I’m the owner. Let’s go talk in my office.”
“Okay,” she replies, her soft lips spreading into a smile. It is almost intoxicating.
Danny shakes his head and walks away. I motion to the office the previous owner used. Technically, my office now, but I’ve only set foot in it once.
As I lead her towards the door, I wish we had at least thrown on a fresh coat of paint.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I ask over my shoulder, glancing at her.
“Ana,” she replies.
“I’m Leo. Sorry about the mess,” I say as I open the door. “I just recently bought this place and we’re doing some renovations.”
“No problem.” She looks around. “I’ve seen a lot worse.”
“Have a seat, Ana.” I walk over to one of the chairs in front of the desk and remove some papers from it.
“Thank you.” She smiles and sits down.
I walk around the desk and sit in the chair, wincing when it creaks like it is going to fall apart at any moment. I quickly tap my cigar out in the ashtray and let it rest there as I level my gaze on the beauty in front of me.
“So, you want to dance? On the stage?”
The sparkle leaves her eyes. Her cheeks blush a little. “Yes, I’ve heard it is a good way to make money.”
“Some girls do alright.” I nod. “You realize that this is a strip club, right? You would have to take off your clothes.”
Her arms immediately cross her chest and she sinks a little lower in her chair. “I understand that.”
“You’re not shy, are you?” I ask, noticing that her body language suggests she isn’t thrilled with the idea.
“I’ll…” She stammers over her words. “…be okay once the music starts. I can get in the zone and do what I have to. I-I practiced some at home—in front of the mirror.”
“Taking off your clothes in front of the mirror is a lot easier than doing it in front of a bunch of old men that want to fuck you,” I remark crudely, noticing her sink further into her chair.
She shouldn’t be here. She’s too young and naïve. Barely old enough to pluck off the vine.
“Y-yeah, but I can do it,” she says, her eyes still dim. “If you’ll just give me a chance. I really need the money.”
She’s beautiful. Intriguing. I want to know why she needs the money so badly. What brought a gorgeous thing like her to a place like this? I want to know if she’s in trouble or some sort of danger. I shouldn’t care, because I have more important things to worry about, but I can’t help it.
“I’ll give you one song to convince me,” I say, pulling my phone out. “You pick.”
“Um, I like a lot of stuff.” She shrugs.
“What is your stage name going to be?” I ask, scrolling through some songs on my phone.
“Can I just be Ana?”
“You don’t want to use your real name.” I study her for a moment. “You look like an Angel.”
“An—angel?” She blinks in surprise and her cheeks blush. “Well, thank you but-“
“Angel, the name,” I clarify, interrupting her.
“Oh, yeah. That would be fine.” She nods, seemingly disappointed.
“Here we go,” I say, standing up from the chair and walking over to the couch. It is a little dirty, but I sit on it anyway, not wanting to think what the stains could be. “I’ll start the music and you dance. Show me what you got, sweetheart.”
I start playing Calling All Angels and put my phone down. Ana stands up from her seat slowly, trying to nod along to the music. There’s so much nervousness in her eyes. So much apprehension in the way she moves. She walks to the center of the room, right in front of me, and begins moving her body to the beat of the song. Her eyes close, and I see tears dampen her eyelashes.
“Do you need a few minutes to get into that zone you were talking about?” I ask. “Should I start the song over?”
“Y-yes,” she replies, turning away from me. “Just give me a minute, please. I can do this.”
Normally, I’d just give her the boot and tell her to quit wasting my time. I shouldn’t be hiring anyone to begin with. Danny was right. We really aren’t looking for any new dancers. I’m trying to operate on a bare-minimum budget until I can unload this club on the next sap who is stupid enough to buy it.
But Ana looks like the world has already been cruel to her. She’s not the kind of girl that ends up dancing the pole. She’s too innocent and sweet. Too timid. If she fails this test, then she’s somebody else’s problem.
At least she can fail on her own terms and find another way to make money, far away from this cesspool of humanity.
