“Fantasy,” Emma said with a plastered-on smile for the F-Troop. You’re outta business, gals.
If her grin was any indication, Olivia liked that. “This is Lisa, my matron of honor”—she gestured at a cool, Hitchcockian blonde—“Jess”—who was sloe-eyed and sexy in a sneaky-looking way—“and Gabby.” Gabby had a Latina vibe going on. Another beauty who’d have no trouble summoning a man with the click of her fingers.
Emma nodded and motioned to Katerina, who had pressed a button on the now-straightened pole. It latched onto the ceiling and, with the magic of science, became suctioned there. She tested it with a pull, a vigorous shake, and then a quick off-her-feet swirl that drew claps from the sofa girls.
“This is Katerina, your entertainment for the evening.”
Kat strode over and spoke to Olivia. “You pay now. Then I change into sexy outfit.”
“Of course,” Olivia murmured, still impressed by Kat’s no-shittin’-around attitude. She rummaged in her Coach purse and pulled out her wallet. Several hundred-dollar bills exchanged hands, and Kat picked up a bag and headed to the bathroom.
Olivia gazed after Kat, spared a glance for the gleaming pole in the center of the room, and turned back to Emma. “Will you be dancing this evening, Char?”
“No, I’m just here to make sure none of you bitches get handsy with the talent.” She sat on the sofa. Damn, she needed a drink. “Is there a spare glass lying around?”
Emma marveled at how five minutes could transform a hotel suite at the classy Peninsula hotel on Michigan Avenue into a veritable den of stripper iniquity. Kat’s duffel bag contained more than just a rent-a-pole; it also had an iPod docking station and a portable party light system that threw out multicolored shards on the walls and ceiling.
Kevin would have hated it.
But the girls loved it, especially when Katerina, dressed in one of her most stripper-y outfits—and Emma had seen most of them—wowed them with her moves on the pole. Completely respectful of her talents, they oohed at the right moments and clapped whenever she did something so acrobatic it made Emma’s heart race with worry. Emma had seen Kat’s mighty calves in action, and the woman was delivering tonight.
“Now everyone on their feet,” Kat ordered, sergeant-major style.
In ten minutes, the drunken debutantes were rock-and-rollin’ with hip swivels and booty shakes that wouldn’t have looked out of place at Club Girl.
“Lisa, use more hip twist,” Kat demanded. “Let him see how flexible you are. And Jessica, you have fine American ass. You clearly eat more than the rest. Make it work for you.”
“Did she just call me fat?” Jess murmured as she grasped the pole and swayed her hips provocatively.
“That’s a compliment in her culture,” Emma assured her with a wink at Olivia, who was laughing her head off. Emma had missed being around girls her own age, and although these were not the kind of women who would ever accept her, it still felt good to be thinking about anything but her problems.
Watching Kat in action, something else occurred to Emma. Perhaps there was a way she could help her friend escape the strip club…
After another death-defying move, showcasing those thighs that could crush a man like a James Bond villainess, Kat landed on her feet to wild applause. She turned the lights on the stereo setup to the “mood” setting, lowered the music, and sat in an armchair.
“You are a goddess,” Olivia said, awe thickening her voice, or maybe it was that third appletini.
“I am good. Best at club.” She slid a sly look at Emma. “Chardonnay has much to learn. She should practice more.”
“Why?” Gabby asked. “It sounds like she’s landed on her feet with her billionaire boyfriend.”
“Gabby!” Olivia glared at her friend, though it was obvious the thought was shared by everyone in the room. Even Kat, who shrugged when Emma caught her eye.
Gabby looked miffed that she was taking the fall. “Just sayin’ she doesn’t have to do that job if she’s got a rich guy. And I don’t know how Brody would stand to let her do it. Especially after his experience with Kerry bein’ such a ho, pretending she was pregnant to trap a man.”
Pregnant? Stunned, Emma looked to Olivia for confirmation. Suddenly, Brody’s actions made more sense. Why would a man with such voracious appetites marry a woman who couldn’t handle him?
Olivia narrowed her eyes at Gabby. “Have another drink, Gabs.”
“She pretended?” Emma asked, her voice a couple of octaves higher than usual.