“Hey Finley.”
I whipped around as a cold shiver raced through me. Blinking at him, I remained speechless as I tried to figure out how in the hell he found out my real name.
He let out a deep chuckle. “Your friend the other night, he called you that. It is your name, right?”
I swallowed hard. Damn Greyson. When he spotted me that night he must have said my name loud enough for the few people sitting nearby to hear.
“Uh....” I couldn’t get my mouth and brain to cooperate.
He watched me with that creepy quiet smirk of his.
I didn’t like him seeing this me. The real me. I’d scrubbed off most of my makeup with a wet wipe, and my hair was in a messy bun on the top of my head. It was one thing for him to be into me when I was in scene –I was every man’s fantasy up on the stage, but it was something altogether different to have him standing here talking to me, not as a stripper and customer sharing an interaction, but as a man and woman. Panic prickled at the back of my neck, the skin raising up in goose bumps.
“They told me you went home, but your car was still here.”
“So you waited,” I deadpanned.
“Yeah, of course I did. Are you okay?”
I was avoiding you, you fuckwit.
“I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day, and I’m ready to get going.”
“Of course, I understand.” He smiled at me kindly and I thought maybe, just maybe it would be that easy to get rid of him. But then he stepped closer, and brought his hand up to my hairline. I backed away, taking two big steps back from my car. “Sorry.” He smiled again. “It’s just … you look younger with your hair up like that.”
I didn’t have it in me to be polite to him tonight. I wasn’t working, wasn’t trying to earn any tips. So even though he was smiling at me, I wasn’t about to bat my eyelashes at the compliment. He didn’t seem like the dangerous type, just lonely and a little weird, but I wasn’t about to let my guard down now. I held my keys protectively in front of me, ready to strike out if necessary.
“I’m sorry for bothering you … I just wasn’t ready to go home yet,” he said, his voice softer.
He wore a wedding ring, for fuck's sake. Go home to your wife. If I was still married, I’d never be at a place like this looking to make a connection with a stranger.
Staring wistfully at my car, I was startled at the sound of Layla’s voice.
“Is he bugging you again?” she asked, approaching us. I saw her car idling a few rows down and was so thankful she hadn’t left yet.
“I’ve got it handled.”
Brant chuckled and took a step back. “I don’t mean any harm, ladies. I’ll be on my way.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Good night, Finley.”
I didn’t return his sentiment and he turned and headed to a silver sedan.
I heaved a sigh of sweet relief. “Thank God,” I muttered into my hands.
Layla put a reassuring arm around me. “Listen, this has gone on long enough, we need to fix this.”
“And what do you propose exactly?” If I complained to the management, I’d only get moved to the less desirable shifts or have my hours cut back even more than they already were. The club could only afford so many bouncers and if certain girls became targets for odd customers, I’d seen it handled that way before. I couldn’t let that happen.
She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. “I know a lady. She can put a curse on him. Make his small pecker shrivel up and fall off. You just have to bring her a chicken.”
I almost laughed, until I saw in her eyes that she was completely serious. “No, it's okay, I’ll be fine,” I assured her. Somehow. It would have to be. I needed this job.
I said goodbye to Layla and got inside my car, watching her taillights fade into the distance. I sat there in the darkened interior, hands resting on the steering wheel, reflecting on the crazy last couple of days I’d had. As soon as Layla’s car was gone from sight, a big black SUV pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop beside my car.
What now?
Greyson climbed out, looking upset about something.
I rolled down my window as he approached. I was still sore from our disastrous dinner, so I could have just driven off, but that would only give him an excuse to show up on my doorstep to check on me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, placing his hands on the door frame and leaning in.
“I’m fine,” I lied. I didn’t want him of all people knowing that a customer had just left me rattled.
Apparently his grief and guilt over Marcus made him want to play the role of white knight. It was so annoying how he always seemed to catch me at my worst. And of course, tonight was no different. I was exhausted, frustrated, and pretty sure there was black makeup smeared under my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I asked.