“I’m factory order bitch.” She toasts with her martini. “I came like this. Maybe you just never noticed.”
“Grip, we gotta go,” Sarah reminds me, but her worried eyes rest on Bristol.
“Stay out of trouble, Jimmi.” I hook an elbow around her neck and whisper. “Watch Bristol. She’s drinking too much.”
“But drunk Bristol is so much fun,” Jimmi whispers back.
“What are you guys whispering about?” Bristol asks, her eyes narrowed on Jimmi and me.
“You,” I say without missing a beat. “Now I have to go do my job.”
“How nice for you to still have a job,” Bristol says, her words slurring more than they did four martinis ago. “Some of us got fired.”
“Okay, Jimmi.” I grab her by the shoulders to look her in the eyes. “I’m counting on you to keep her safe.”
“You snot it.” Jimmi cackles and sloppily covers her mouth. “I mean, you got it.”
“Are you drunk, Jim?” I note her glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. She’s a very functional drunk. You never realize she’s drunk until she starts breaking shit and hooking up with strangers in port-a-potties. I’ve had whole conversations with her and not realized she was lit. I think I just had one.
“Just a little.” Jimmi holds up her thumb and index finger, the smallest sliver of space separating them. “Lil’ shit. I mean, lil’ bit.”
I search the club for Amir. I usually hate having him with me as “security”, but I need him now. When I spot him talking with a very limber stripper, I know he’ll hate me for breaking that up, but I wave him over.
“What’s up?” He glances back over his shoulder at the girl now giving some dude a lap dance.
“Keep an eye on Bristol and Jimmi.” I tip my head in their direction. “You know how they get when they drink together. It’s never good.”
“Got it.” Amir assesses the two girls who are slumped against each other laughing over nothing.
“Break a leg, Grip,” Bristol says, sober enough to be snide. “No, really. I hope you break your leg while Qwest is humping it.”
I can’t do this with her right now. With one more death stare, which she returns in triplicate, I head back to join Qwest in the dressing room. She’s already in her skimpy costume, fake lashes on, braids spilling down to her waist. Her eyes light up as soon as I enter the room. I can’t help but wonder if that’s how I look when I see Bristol. If maybe sometimes, just maybe, she’s ever looked that way when she saw me.
“Where’ve you been?” Qwest slips her arms around my waist. “My friend Jimmi is here, so we were just catching up.” I set my hands at her hips, putting a little space between us. “Look, Qwest, can we talk after the performance? There’s just some stuff I need to get off my chest.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” She smiles up at me impishly. “I think we’re on the same page.”
By the mischief and lust in her eyes, I doubt that very seriously.
I’m grateful we’re only doing one song. We power through “Queen,” which is as energized and sexy as usual. Qwest actually steps up her game and is borderline indecent being that we’re in a strip club. When in Rome.
When we come offstage and head back to the dressing room, I can tell the performance turned her on. She locks the door and presses me into a wall before we’ve said one word. Her tongue is so far down my throat it would take a Saint Bernard to retrieve it. I’m horny and it does feel good, but I can’t do this again. I can’t do this to her any more.
“Qwest,” I say against her lips. “We need to talk.”
Her mouth slows over mine until the kisses are just pecks on my lips and across my cheeks.
“I know.” She nods, looking down at the floor. “I figured after what happened . . . or rather didn’t happen . . . on the plane.”
“Yeah, that’s what I want to talk about.”
“You don’t have to. Hectic schedule. Crazy week.” She gives me a sly look. “I even wondered if you might be bored.”
“No, it isn’t boredom. It’s—”
A knock at the door interrupts.
“Who could that be?” Qwest asks in mock innocence before opening the door.