“That’s why I’m back here. I’m trying to learn.”
He gave me a condescending grin. “Is that why you think you’re back here?”
What did that mean?
He shook his head with a smirk, then leaned his mouth close to my ear. “You see how some of the girls are dancing on guys’ laps?”
I’d spent most of my night trying not to notice. “Yeah.”
“If a guy pays more, she’ll take him to a VIP room.”
“And what happens in those?”
“It depends on who’s dancing and who’s asking.” He winked. “On Friday nights, from eleven until two a.m. or so, we see more action in those rooms than on any other night.”
“Why?”
He leaned into my side and reached behind me to cup my butt cheek. “Smart girls don’t ask questions here.”
I elbowed him as hard as I could. He grabbed his side, doubling over. “I think smart girls do ask questions,” I said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have known you should have paid me twenty dollars to do that.”
He laughed. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet. But for the record—” his eyebrows rose playfully, “I would have needed a whole lot more than that for twenty dollars.”
I was never gonna let any man here get close enough for me to have to remember that piece of advice.
The crowd got bigger over the next hour, and I kept busy getting beers and making my bad mixed drinks. Amazingly enough, I’d started to get the hang of working behind the bar, even if my drinks seemed be getting worse as the night wore on.
The music changed, and a new dancer emerged on the stage. She wore a sequined, bedazzled red bra and a black wrap-around skirt. When she started her routine, it was apparent she was a real dancer. Her moves were fluid and graceful, yet inherently seductive. Every man in the room watched as she put her back to the pole, grabbed it overhead, and arched her pelvis out. I’d seen the other three girls working the place do it all night long. With them, it had looked gross and tasteless, but this dancer was classy—which seemed like an oxymoron in this place—and she was successfully seducing the room.
She spun her body under her arms and moved to the other side of the pole, unknotting the skirt’s tie at her hips when she looked up, her long brown hair bouncing around her shoulders.
I’d seen her somewhere before. Where?
Kip leaned into my ear, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “Diamond brings the boys to the yard. And a few girls too.”
Diamond? She looked nothing like the woman I’d seen on the stage that morning. While she hadn’t looked girl-next-door, she hadn’t looked like this siren currently entrancing a room full of men.
“That’s why the boss likes her.”
Then it hit me why I always experienced déjà vu in the office—Diamond was the woman from my vision in Billy Jack’s trailer. They’d been in the office at Gems.
“Ruby, we’re out of ice.” Kip handed me a bucket. “There’s an ice machine in the back. Go get some.”
I took the container and headed into the back room, thankful that I had a legitimate excuse to have a private place to text Skeeter. I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and cringed when I saw the time on my phone: 10:03. I hoped Skeeter hadn’t sent Jed, since Mason still hadn’t shown up, and I still hadn’t found out anything really useful. While I still wanted to find Dolly Parton, my top priority was Mason. I sent a quick text.
This is my first chance to text you. The owner will be here later. The bartender says lots of business takes place in VIP rooms between 11–2 on Friday nights.
I wasn’t sure what he’d make of it, but I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence that Dolly Parton and Nikko had disappeared on a Friday night. Had they seen or heard something in one of the private rooms? Maybe from the owner?
Skeeter texted back immediately. Let me know when he’s there. Jed’s close on standby.
“Where’s that ice, Ruby?” Kip shouted.
I jumped and looked toward the door, wondering if he’d seen me on my phone, but all I could see was the back of the bar. “Coming!” I scooped the ice with one hand while texting Skeeter Okay with the other.
I sent Neely Kate a text next. I’m okay. No need to worry.
I’d nearly filled the bucket, and she still hadn’t answered. She was parked in the dirt track lot behind the club. Had someone found her? But just as I was close to a full-blown panic, my phone vibrated with her response. Okay. I fell asleep.
I stuffed my phone in my front pocket and hefted the bucket up on my hip. When I carried it out front, Kip pointed to a bin where I could pour it. “Took you long enough.”
“Sorry.”
The cooler was already over half full, so when I finished pouring the ice in, it was overflowing.
“Why did we need more ice?” I asked. “We’ve mostly sold draft beer.”