Two fingers rapped sharply on Eliza’s shoulder, digging between her shoulder blade and neck until pain radiated down her back. Ignoring the invading hand, Eliza locked her attention on the table of braying gentlemen in front of her, her pen hovered in the air, waiting for them to make a drink selection.
Although gentlemen was quite a generous description. She rolled her eyes. She already had been propositioned twice in the last five minutes…
Two days of wandering hands and pinching fingers; if she did not need the money so badly, she would have quit the previous evening and thrown a drink in the face of that arrogant drunk. Eliza growled, her impatience drowned out by the thumping bass of the music blaring through the club.
The previously dismissed hand closed around Eliza’s shoulder, wrenching her arm backward.
“Hands off!” Eliza snarled and spun around, yanking her arm from the hand. Shocked to discover the hand’s owner to be female, she forced a brilliant smile, flashing as many teeth as possible. “I would be delighted to take your order as soon as I’ve finished with this table.”
Two women, sparkling in barely appropriate outfits, perched on their stools, eyeing Eliza with disdain. The nearest woman, her hand still outstretched, stared at the empty space between her fingers as if she expected Eliza to place her shoulder back into her grasp.
“We’re not thirsty.” The icy voice dripped with ennui. She gradually retracted her hand, brushing a long, raven curl away from her face. Gracefully, she dropped her hand to the table.
“I apologize”—Eliza blinked in confusion—“I thought you wanted my attention.”
“Oh, we do.” The dark-haired woman smiled, her frozen eyes glittering.
“You can help them first,” slurred the man closest to Eliza. “We’re still figuring out what we want.”
“I want her!” yelled the man besides him, leaning across the first man’s lap. “Come home with me, baby.”
“Shut up, Jack, you have a girlfriend.” The first man shoved him the opposite direction. Jack rebounded off the man on his right.
“Yeah, but this one’s cuter.”
“I’m flattered, but I’m not interested,” replied Eliza, loud enough for all four men to hear.
“Are you too good for us?” asked Jack, leaning around his friend and coating Eliza in a fragrance of whiskey. His eyes glowed black.
“You’re not her type.” The raven beauty shot a dark glare at Jack.
Jack muttered a word under his breath. Even over the blare of the music, Eliza caught the insult. The raven-haired woman arched an eyebrow at his profanity and glanced over at her friend.
“I don’t like them.”
Without speaking, the blonde woman rose regally. Walking around Eliza, she leaned over, whispering in the first man’s ear. His face blanched. He nodded once and glanced at his companions.
“We should leave.”
“But we haven’t received our drinks yet,” pouted Jack.
“Yes, we did, and you already drank it.”
“I did?” Jack blinked in confusion, his mouth working as he filtered through his alcohol laced memories.
“You did.” Ushering his friends toward the front of the club, the first man spun around, offering a belated bow. “My apologies, Miss Maldove. We didn’t mean to upset you.”
Waiting until the men vanished out the front door, the raven-haired woman turned her attention back to Eliza as the blonde slipped around the table and dropped onto her stool.
“Now that we are alone, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Sabrina, and this is my very dear friend, Frankie.” The raven-haired woman leaned over and draped her arms over Frankie’s bare shoulders. Sabrina planted a wet kiss on Frankie’s cheek, leaving a bright pink mark, which glowed neon underneath the club’s pulsating lights. Frankie ignored Sabrina, keeping her eyes laser focused on Eliza.
“How can I help you?” Eliza stepped closer, regretting her decision as a shadow of a grin stretched across Sabrina’s lips. Eliza’s gaze skipped over their table: four empty Martini glasses. Bored women and alcohol were never a good combination.
“I would like you to settle a debate between Frankie and myself. Will you do that for us?” asked Sabrina.
“Certainly.” Eliza nodded and tucked the tray under her arm.
Heat blazed down her back. She twisted around. Mr. Taren, the club owner, glared at her with irritation from his corner booth. He flicked his wrist, indicating that she move onto the next table. Gesturing her understanding, Eliza returned her gaze to Sabrina and Frankie.
“What is your question?”
“I say having sex for money is degrading and cheap. Frankie says it’s empowering and freeing.” Sabrina released Frankie and leaned forward, placing her chin delicately in her hand. She tilted her head, her brown eyes sparkling. “Tell me. How do you feel about screwing for money? Does it make you feel like a slut? Do you offer group discounts?”
Eliza’s jaw dropped. Stunned silent, she gaped momentarily at Sabrina’s smirking face, then she slammed her tray on the table, scattering the Martini glasses. They fell to the floor, smashing around Eliza’s feet as she leaned across the table, her face an inch from Sabrina’s nose.
“How dare you! I am not a prostitute!”
“Calm yourself.” Sabrina flashed an innocent smile. Selecting a napkin from the table, she daubed the droplets of alcohol sprinkled across the table. “It was just a joke, wasn’t it, Frankie?”
“Yes.” Frankie’s green eyes gleamed as she stared at Eliza. “Just some harmless fun.”
Sabrina’s finger darted forward, leaping across the small tabletop and painfully jabbing the glinting, gold name badge on Eliza’s shirt. “Eliza.” She enunciated each syllable. “That’s a pretty name. Is it short for anything?”
Eliza grabbed Sabrina’s finger and flung it away. “No.”
“I’ve always been partial to Elizabeth.” Frankie rose from her stool, uncurling like a cat, and approached Eliza with a friendly smile. Her blonde hair tumbled forward over her shoulder, ethereally framing her face as she glided around the table. “You are very beautiful.”
She stalked a half-circle around Eliza, stopping as she passed behind Eliza, and emitted a low purring sound as she dragged her fingernails across Eliza’s back. Languidly, Frankie slid her hands over Eliza’s shoulders and moved them down Eliza’s arms, wrapping her hands around Eliza’s biceps.
Frankie squeezed tightly, her fingers biting into Eliza’s arms. She pulled Eliza two steps backward from the table. Roughly spinning Eliza around, Frankie’s viselike grip on Eliza’s arms tightened. She smiled coldly. Darkness filled her eyes, hardening them to a deep emerald. She shook her head once.
“Miss Maldove doesn’t like to be touched.”
Eliza glared at her. “Neither do I.”
Frankie pulled Eliza into an intimate hug, pressing her lips against Eliza’s ear. “Why don’t you have a drink with us, Eliza? We could get to know each other better.”
Shuddering, Eliza ripped herself out of Frankie’s amorous grip. She took a step backward. “I’m working.”
“Tsk. Tsk. It’s rude of you to turn down Frankie’s invitation, Eliza.” Sabrina wagged her finger, her mouth twitched into an evil grin.
“Such a shame.” Frankie pouted and floated back to her stool.
Sabrina placed a comforting hand on Frankie’s arm, absently tracing little circles. “You’ve hurt Frankie’s feelings.” Sabrina’s frozen eyes flicked up to Eliza. “Now I have to punish you.”
These women were crazy. Eliza’s gaze flicked back to Mr. Taren, whose face had purpled. Sliding one foot behind the first, Eliza took a step away from the table. “If there will be nothing else…”
“Mr. Taren is a good friend of my father’s.” Sabrina tilted her head innocently, following Eliza’s gaze. The unspoken threat hanging between them.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Eliza hissed.
“You rejected Frankie.” Sabrina folded her arms.
“Sleeping with the customers is not part of my job description.”
“It is now.”
“I will pay you.” Frankie’s eyes gleamed. “Name your price.”
“Look, I’ve already explained I am not for sale.” Eliza’s head twisted between the two women. “I don’t date customers, I serve drinks, and I need to check on another table. Have a pleasant evening.”
“Eliza!” The bark echoed across the floor. Groaning, Eliza closed her eyes and muttered several curse words under her breath, earning a snicker from Frankie. Reluctantly, Eliza turned.
Charging toward them, Mr. Taren wove around the tables, nimbly threading through the crowded club despite his size. “How many times do I have to explain to you how this works? You ask the customer want they want, then you bring it to them. That’s it. I don’t pay you to chat.”
“But…” Eliza gestured at the two women, sitting silently. They watched the altercation with dual amused grins.
“You know what I see? I see you bothering these two lovely ladies with your nonsense, instead of bringing them their order. Now, go get their drinks.”
“They didn’t order anything.”
Mr. Taren exploded, his voice carrying over the music. “You’ve been standing here for five minutes and you still haven’t taken their order?”
“She tried to proposition us.” Sabrina’s cold voice barely reached Eliza’s ears.
“What?” Mr. Taren’s eyes bulged out of his balding head.
“She told Frankie she would”—Sabrina leaned forward, cupping her mouth as she scandalously hissed—“fuck her for fifty dollars.”
“You’re fired!” yelled Mr. Taren, shaking with rage.
“They’re lying!” Eliza glared at Sabrina’s smug face.
“Get out!” He pointed toward the exit and turned his back, his attention solely on Sabrina and Frankie. He bowed, nearly scraping the floor. “Ladies, I apologize for this horrendous experience. Of course, your bill is on the house tonight. I trust you’ll keep this between us—I know how your father dislikes any whisper of scandal.”
“Certainly, Mr. Taren.” Sabrina placed a hand on his sleeve and batted her eyelashes, causing the older man to redden. “I know how difficult it is to find good help.”
“Thank you, Miss Maldove.” Mr. Taren bowed again and spun around, nearly knocking Eliza over. “What are you still doing here?”
She folded her arms across her chest, refusing to move. If she was going to be fired, it should at least be for something she did. “They’re lying.”
“Come with me.” Mr. Taren wrapped a thick, beefy hand around her arm. He towed her across the floor at lightning speed, reaching his office in ten seconds. Glancing to his left and right, he quickly shoved Eliza inside the back room, slamming the door.
“Geez, Eliza, I can’t believe you were dumb enough to piss off Sabrina Maldove.” Mr. Taren’s gruff voice filled with pity.
“Who?”
Mr. Taren sighed, shaking his head. “That’s right, you’re new to this area.” He loosened his tie, pacing toward his desk. “Look, I know you didn’t try to sell yourself to those two ladies, but I do have to let you go.”
“Why?” Eliza’s lip trembled as she fought to maintain control of her emotions.
“Mr. Maldove has invested in my club—as well as most businesses in this town—and that lovely, young woman who accused you of prostitution is his only daughter.”
“She’s an evil troll.”
Mr. Taren smothered a snort.
“She can be a bit forceful.” He leveled his gaze with Eliza. “If you repeat that, I’ll deny every word.” He dropped into a chair behind his desk and rummaged through the lower drawer.
“Please don’t fire me, Mr. Taren. Just a couple more days, please. I’ll leave as soon as I earn a bit more money.” A hiccup crept into Eliza’s voice.
She’d put up with so much already. She just needed a few hundred more dollars and she’d be free of this wretched town.
Mr. Taren sat up with a heavy sigh. He dipped a chubby hand inside his suit pocket, extracting a dark green handkerchief, which he mopped across his damp brow. “My hands are tied, Eliza. If Sabrina discovers you working here—and she will check—she’ll have her father close the club. I can’t risk my livelihood on a stranger, even if I do believe you. I’ll give you a good reference, although it probably won’t do you much good at this point,” he offered with a watery smile.
“I understand, Mr. Taren.” Eliza’s shoulders drooped. She bit back a sob. “Thank you, anyway.”
“Here.” He reached down into the drawer again, grabbed a few folded bills, and extended his hand. “This is for the past few days. I wish I could do more.”
Gloomily, Eliza nodded. She accepted the money and shoved it into her pocket without counting the stack. Turning, she exited the office and shuffled toward the exit, unnoticed by the patrons and other employees. Pushing out the oversized door, she was immediately smacked in the face by a burst of frigid air. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she struggled against the strong wind, plodding toward the nearest bus stop.
She flopped down on the bench, grinding her teeth together to stop them from chattering. One tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped at it before it could freeze to her skin. A second tear fell, dropping onto the back of her hands which trembled uncontrollably in her lap.
“Well, it looks as though your night has cleared up.”