Maggie nods, adjusting her glasses. “Sure thing, let me grab one of the local brews and I’ll see if I can take my break in a few.”
“That’s fine. I know I’m intruding on your work, so whenever you have a minute is fine. At least there’s a show,” I reply, indicating the girl on stage, who’s currently hanging upside down with her legs so splayed she sort of looks like the letter T. I’m jealous. I don’t think I could get my legs that wide apart even if Keith were . . . nope, don’t need to go there right now.
Maggie grins and bounces off, and I’m struck by how even in this club with her tits popped up and her ass hanging out, Maggie comes across as cute and sweet. Sexiest Girl Scout candy striper in the whole world, and she’s working undercover in a strip club.
Maggie has an innocence about her even when I see her banging on her tray as she claps for a particularly difficult trick the woman on stage is performing. I follow her sightline and see the buxom brunette flashing her panty-covered pussy to the audience as she stands on one foot and raises the other leg high, splitting vertically in the air like a gymnast as she leans way far back. It’s almost a ballet-like position, minus the leotard and tutu. And then when she grabs the pole, flipping herself up onto it again, the audience goes wild, clapping and whistling.
Holy crap! I definitely need a pole fitness class if it can teach me how to do that.
Maggie brings me a beer, and I lean back, sipping it as another girl makes her way on stage.
“Hey, baby, you enjoying the show?” a guy asks, coming up. He’s a little tipsy but not drunk, and while he’s not hideous, he wouldn’t be my type even if I wasn’t seeing Keith.
“Sorry, just waiting for my girlfriend to take a break,” I reply, letting him draw his own conclusions. Thankfully, girlfriend has so many different meanings. The guy looks intrigued for a moment, and I wonder if he’s going to press his luck, and I cut my eyes toward the door for the bouncer just in case. The guy immediately chills out and shrugs in defeat when he sees the bouncer look this direction, and he takes a step back, tossing back the rest of his drink.
“Have a nice night,” he says simply before disappearing back toward the stage.
For the next hour, the scenery turns into a blur of sweat, stale smoke, glitter, and thumping music between two slowly-sipped beers. Maggie never does get a chance to take a break, but when the sound guy gets on and says that Tina Tempest is the last act and they need to clear out, the patrons comply quickly.
“I need to change and I’ll sit down with you,” Maggie says, looking tired but still concerned about me. “More privacy out here than in a back room.”
When Maggie comes out a few minutes later, clad in a tank top, baggy sweats, and Ugg boots, I can’t help but crack a big smile. She’s wiped all the makeup off her face and pulled her hair up into a cute off-center ponytail, looking more like an eighteen-year-old girl on any college campus in the US than a strip club waitress. Or more importantly, a reporter. All traces of her night in the strip club are wiped clean.
Well, except for the glitter sparkling in her cleavage. “You look great. How do you do that . . . sexy sweetheart to girl next door in two minutes flat?”
She looks pleased at my compliment and sits down, pulling her knees up to her chest and curling up like a tiny spitfire ball of cuteness. “Just how I was made, I guess. I’m totally not a femme fatale type for sure.”
“Speaking of femme fatales, you won’t believe what Francesca has been doing,” I growl, glad I’ve got the two beers in me or else I’d be throwing shit, I’m still so fucking angry.
“What?” Maggie asks, sensing my displeasure. “She didn’t . . . stab you in the back, did she?”
I laugh bitterly, nodding. “Like it’s nobody’s fucking business. She’s been following me, on Donnie’s orders! Me! Like I’m a target.”
“And?” Maggie asks, not getting upset yet, “What did she find?”
I stop, immediately defensive. “How do you know she found something?”
“Because you’ve been sitting in a strip club for over an hour waiting to talk to me, ergo, she found something,” Maggie explains matter-of-factly. “If she hadn’t, you’d have just told me the story and called her a stupid bitch on Monday. Am I right? So what did she find?”
“Well, I can’t exactly say everything she found,” I reply before taking a deep breath. Fuck it, right now I need to trust someone with some secrets, or else I’m going to be spinning my wheels and going nowhere. “But she figured out pretty quickly that Keith and I are dating.”