He moved closer to me, emotions storming across his face. “Dammit, Angelina.”
I forced myself not to cower as he approached. Instead, I held my ground, telling myself that I knew this man well. That even though he’d grown up around gangs—that even though he could snap me in two without breaking a sweat—that he absolutely did not intimidate me. On the contrary, I knew that Cole would always watch out for me.
“I mean it,” I said. “I’m not leaving until I get some answers.”
“Answers?” He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he examined me. “And what exactly is the question?”
“Evan,” I said simply.
“What about him?”
I sighed in exasperation. This felt a little bit too much like junior high. “I want to know how to find him for one thing. And since I don’t have another address, this was my best option.”
“And why exactly do you want to find him?”
I almost told him it was none of his damn business, but I was tired of being contentious. “Come on, Cole,” I said wearily. “He owes me something. And I don’t think that Evan’s the kind of guy who squelches on his debts.”
“Something?” Cole said, and I was grateful for the dim light that kept my blush from showing.
After a moment, I nodded and his grin grew wide. I had the feeling he knew exactly what kind of debt Evan owed me. “Well, look at little Dragonbait, all grown up. You win. Come on in.” He cocked his head toward the frosted glass doors.
I exhaled in relief and followed. Considering the understated entry, I’d expected the main room to be nice, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so big or so shiny. The room was huge, with the same cavernous feel of the casinos I’d visited with college friends on jaunts to both Vegas and Atlantic City. Instead of blackjack tables, there were individually lit raised dance floors—I counted six—scattered around the room. Each featured a pole, and each pole featured a girl. There was a bar around the edge of the platform, and men lined the barstools, some standing long enough to tuck a bill into the sequined nothingness that the dancers wore. And nothingness was pretty much it. Though some wore bikinis and some wore G-strings, some were entirely naked but for a garter belt around a thigh, the purpose of which was clearly to serve as a tip collection device.
For those guests who didn’t want such an up close and personal view, there were round tables surrounded by four comfy chairs scattered throughout the room. A long bar with three scantily clad waitresses took up the far side of the room, and I saw the doors to private rooms as well. One must be the champagne room, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the theme was for the others.
The main area was primarily illuminated by the glow of the dancers’ spotlights, which meant that the corners were much dimmer. I’m pretty sure that if I’d stood there peering into the dark, I would have seen one of those lap dances that I was so curious about.
Honestly, I was tempted to do just that.
On the whole, it was a nice place. Not the Palm Court, but classy in its own way. And the girls were pretty. Not too skinny or used up. They had curves and moves and they looked like they were genuinely enjoying their work. As I followed Cole to the far side of the main room, I didn’t see any touching that they didn’t somehow consent to. I did see one guy get a little rowdy, but a bouncer who looked like he used to play professional football descended on him like a tick and politely but firmly showed him the door.
Finally, Cole stopped at one of the tables, signaled to a waitress, then pulled out a chair for me. “So what do you think?”
“It’s a nice place,” I said honestly. “Classier than I would have guessed.”
“You thought we’d lean more toward skanky?”
“No, I—” I cut myself off when I saw his shit-eating grin. “Dammit, Cole. Don’t tease me. I’m not exactly in my element here.”