Nodding, he sized me up. He must have decided I was okay because he stepped around me and unlocked the front door, ushering me in. I entered and got a good look at the club as it was lit up. Oh, good Lord, that carpet. It was worse than the carpet you saw in an RSL club; gaudy as hell. But I figured that no-one would be paying much attention to it and besides, the lights were usually off during business hours. Red seemed to be the main colour of Indigo; red carpet splashed with little black symbols, red walls, and red seats that had a touch of black on them. There was a circular bar area a little off centre to the right as you entered the room, and the stage where I was guessing the strippers did their thing was to the left.
I followed the guy past the bar, around to the right, and through a locked door. Now we were in a short hallway that we followed to the end, at which point he stopped and knocked on the door we were now standing in front of.
“Scott, you free? I’ve got a Harlow here to see you.”
I waited quietly, watching the guy and wondering about him. There was something about him; something that told me not to screw with him. He had the look and the aura of a man that you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.
My thoughts were interrupted when the door flung open and Scott appeared, looking a little tense. He frowned when he saw me. “What’s wrong?”
I was quick to reassure him because he really did look worried. “Nothing’s wrong. I just came to ask you something.”
That seemed to placate him; the tension eased off his face and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Sure,” he said, and moved aside to let me into his office. Nodding at the guy, he said, “Thanks, Griff. Can you make sure Amy’s stocked the fridge at the bar?”
Griff nodded slowly, his attention still on me. It was disconcerting; almost like he was sizing me up, trying to work out if I was the enemy. I had no idea what that was about. Finally, he made a move to leave. “Will do.”
After he’d left, Scott turned to me. “Out with it, babe. What do you need?”
“I need that job if it’s still going.” My tummy was full of butterflies and I wasn’t sure if I was nervous about asking for the job or whether just being around Scott was affecting me.
“I thought you didn’t want to work in a strip club.”
Moment of truth. I decided to be honest; I figured Scott was the type to appreciate full disclosure. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really want to. However, I need to; to help support my mother and I.”
“Sit,” he ordered me, and pointed to a couch against the wall.
I did as I was told, and he leant against his desk, crossing his feet. He wrapped one arm around his torso while the other one balanced on it, his hand supporting his chin.
“Is your mother sick?”
“No. She runs her own café and times have been tough. That’s why I moved back to Brisbane; to help her keep it afloat and help pay her mortgage. Things were looking up, and they still are, but one of her fridges died today and she needs a new one, which is going to cost her a fair bit of money.”
He nodded. “Right. So now you need this job to help pay for that,” he stated, deep in thought.
“Yes.”
I waited while he continued to mull it over, although I wasn’t sure what he had to think about; either he had a job for me or he didn’t. Eventually he pushed off from the desk and walked around to the other side and sat. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. His eyes landed on me while he waited for the person to answer; they were serious, with no crinkle.
The person finally answered, and he spoke, “Hey, brother, I need a fridge for a cafe. Not sure exactly what yet, but you able to help me out?”
I struggled to maintain my composure. He was getting me a fridge? I just wanted a job.
Scott continued to discuss fridges with the person on the other end of the phone and then he hung up. “That’s sorted, babe. Tomorrow I’ll call you to get the info on the fridge you need and it’ll be delivered tomorrow afternoon.”
“Umm... I don’t think my Mum has the money to pay for it yet. The idea was for me to get this job and we’d save for a new fridge.”
“You can’t run a café without a fridge. We’ll get that sorted first. You can have the job here and we can discuss you paying for the fridge later.” His tone was clear; this is how it would be, and don’t argue with me.
“No, I’ll work here and save, and then get the fridge. We can’t ask that of you.”
“You didn’t. But you’re getting it anyway.” Before I could argue anymore, another guy appeared at the door. Holy heck, did God rain hot, sexy men down into this club? This guy was smoking. Upon closer inspection, I realised it was Madison’s boyfriend, J. I’d met him at the barbeque but I hadn’t really paid much attention to him as I was focusing more on Scott.
He had his phone in his hand and looked stressed. “Scott, Madison’s on the phone. She says the cat really wants that fucking collar off and won’t shut up about it. I’ve got shit I’m supposed to be taking care of and the last fucking thing I need is her on my ass about your cat.” He held his phone out to Scott. “Talk to her and sort this shit out, brother.”
Scott scowled him, but took the phone. “Jesus, Madison, it’s a fucking cat for Christ’s sake. Deal with it. I’ll be over in a couple of hours to get him.” He looked at me, and then said to her, “Hang on a minute.”