“Call him Brett, he prefers it,” Frankie said. “And yes, briefly. You’re good but too technical for this place.”
My heart pounded as panic set in. Shit, I couldn’t lose this opportunity. I had the landlord knocking on my door this morning while I’d hid under the covers pretending I wasn’t there. It was Trevor who’d saved me. I’d heard him in the hall telling the landlord I’d gone out of town for a few days.
I’d invited Trevor over for breakfast after the landlord was gone.
“I can do better. It was my first time and I was nervous.”
Frankie walked toward the bar. “There is no room for nerves on the floor. And I have a thousand girls who’ve applied and can dance like you did.”
I rushed after her. “Yes, but not a girl who wants the job as bad as me.” I stopped a few feet away from her as she typed something on her laptop that sat open on the bar top. “I really want the job. I need the job. Please.”
Frankie shut the lid of her laptop and swiveled around on the barstool. “Why?”
I went with complete honesty; Frankie seemed like she respected direct. “My ex cheated on me six months ago. I had to move out and quit my job because he was my boss.” I heard Tab snort behind me. “He spread nasty rumors about me and now I can’t get a job teaching dance. I haven’t worked in months, and I need to dance. I want to dance.”
She eyed me up and down, eyes curious. “You have a new boyfriend?” I had no idea why she’d ask that, but I quickly shook my head. “A guy like your ex who wouldn’t want you in a nightclub dancing?”
“No.” I hadn’t spoken to David in months. But there was a rock star drummer who was a friend of the owners who didn’t want me dancing here.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Bree, you just got your Saturday night off. Savvy will take your place for one night.” She looked at me. “One night. A trial. Brett will be here. He can have the final say, but from our argument the other night, he liked you.”
I wanted to jump up and down. Instead, I grinned. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
Frankie stood, and despite her five-three height, she appeared way taller. “And wear the heels 24-7. In the shower if you have to. You need to learn to dance in those. It was obvious you’re not used to them.”
Shit, the mask. I wanted to be able to wear the mask just in case Killian ever showed up. “So, what I was wearing the other night with the mask? Would that be okay?”
She sidled past me. “It’s good. I like the mask. Mysterious. Keep it, but the blue goes. All the girls wear either black or white. Bree will find you something.” She clapped her hands together. “Let’s go. On the floor. Drop the bag, Savvy. You need to learn a few things before Saturday night.”
I was soaking wet as I sat on the floor, knees bent, elbows perched on them, head hanging forward and water bottle between my legs.
Frankie was tough. Like tougher than Mrs. Perch, my dance instructor when I was seventeen and living in Waterloo with Ms. Evert. Mrs. Perch was called, behind her back of course, “the taskmaster.” There’d always been another task to master before we were allowed to leave class.
Bree sat beside me, the girl Tammy, who I found out was always late and who carpooled with Shari—meaning they both were always late—sat on my other side. Shari was beside her, flat on her back with her arm over her eyes. They were nice, obviously good friends and were amazing dancers.
Frankie shut off the music. “Good work, ladies. Bree, go over Compass rules with Savvy?”
“Sure thing,” Bree chirped.
“No hooking up with the customers,” Tammy blurted. She had a high-pitched voice that squeaked a little, and massive amounts of curly blonde hair that was frizzy and stuck out in every direction. But she had cute soft features, and for some reason, the crazy hair went well with her sweet rounded face.
“Or other staff,” Bree added and turned to Tab, who was ignoring all of us and putting her water and jacket in her bag.
Tab straightened and lifted her thin brows at Bree. “I can do whatever I want off the premises.”
“Yeah. Sure you can. Until Frankie finds out you’re fucking one of the security guys,” Shari muttered without taking her hand off her face.
Bree lowered her voice, leaning into me. “Tab is sorta seeing Greg.” Oh. Huh. I didn’t see that coming. Greg was so direct and fierce, and I pictured him with a… well, a softer girl than Tab.
Tammy overheard and snorted. “Seeing? No, they fuck when he has nothing else to fuck.”
“You’re a bitch, Tammy.” Tab snatched her bag off the floor and hitched it over her shoulder as she walked out.
I heard the door open and slam shut behind her.
Everyone laughed. I smiled, already feeling like I was part of the group.
“No leaving the club without an escort.” Bree climbed to her feet, held out her hand, which I gratefully took, and she hauled me up beside her. “And if you have any issues, go to Greg. He’ll straighten it out.”
I bit my lip. “Umm, Greg is pissed at me right now.”
Bree bent, picked up her bag and water. “No, he’s not. He’s pissed at himself for letting you get away and has a bruised ego. But Greg’s ego needs a little bruising now and then. Don’t worry about it.” She pointed to the stairs. “Change room for dancers. First door after the bar then second door on the left. There’s a ton of outfits, nothing too risqué. Brett’s motto, ‘class not trash.’ What’s your cell number?” Bree asked.
“I don’t have one at the moment.” If I got the job, after paying hydro and rent, I’d buy prepaid cards for my phone.
“You serious?” Her eyes widened. “You need a cell. If you’re hired, which you will be, Derek will get you one. He’s the manager here.” Bree walked to the door and I followed. “Later, girls” She waved over her shoulder.
“Bye,” I called to Tammy and Shari.