Picture Perfect (3 page)

A hollow sinking sensation carved out the inside of my chest, like I suddenly weighed as much as the Titanic, and the first real trickle of fear dripped icy negative thoughts in my head.

“Sorry about the wait,” Sapphire said, reappearing and handing a drink menu over to Erik with a gracious smile. With mechanical stiffness, she forced herself to offer me one as well, along with a matching pasted-on smile. Clearly she was irritated I hadn’t groveled and drooled over her like the rest of the sausage factory.

I frowned.
Not impressed, sweetheart.

Sapphire slipped into the booth beside Erik, huddling close to him like they were old friends. They made small talk while I checked my growing need to slap the ridiculous smile off his face with a verbal backhand of sarcasm. He leaned into her, feeding off t
he attention she was giving him and clearly enjoying it.

The menu crinkled under my gr
ip, which had tightened to viselike intensity. I told myself to cool it, that I should be happy for my friend. It had been a while since Erik had a steady girlfriend, and not from lack of trying. He just couldn’t seem to find the right girl.

Sapphire suddenly exploded in laughter and playfully slapped his chest. He never moved to touch her, despite her neon-red body language that said she wanted him to. If it weren’t for the “look but don’t touch rule,” they probably would already
be having sex on the couch.

I perused the menu. For all their high-class boasting, their bar wasn’t really anything upstanding from anywhere else I had been. It might have even been a little downgraded for what I was accustomed to.

I debated between a Jack and Coke or gin and tonic, finding it harder to concentrate the more Sapphire shrieked and giggled.

“I know what I want,” I said loudly, snapping my gaze onto Sapphire with a wide, fake smile.

At my voice, she stiffened, all traces of humor dying, as if she had suddenly remembered she was at work. “Of course, Dev,” she said smoothly, adjusting the back of her corset as she rose. I waited for her to whip out a pamphlet - or maybe a little black book - but she only leaned against the table, probably one of her standard sexy poses, and arched her brows at me.

“Jack and
Coke, on the rocks.” I closed the menu and handed it back to her, which she snatched up a little too sharply.

She rolled a seductive smile onto Erik, the ice melting off of her voice and taking on a flirtatious tone that had been absent with me. “I already know what you want,” she said
, waggling a finger at him. “A White Russian -”

“With a little extra cream,” Erik chimed in, and they finished together. He winked at her. “You got it, gorgeous.”

“Coming right up,” she said sweetly, ducking her chin so she was doing that thing girls always seemed to know how to do, that “staring-at-you-from-this-angle-to-make-me-seem-sexy” look.

He stared at her very perky ass as she sidled away.

“When’s the wedding?” I said dryly, to which Erik pursed his lips.

I motioned to him, not about to let him off that easy. “You might want to adjust your pants, maybe sidepipe it. The crotch is looking a little tighter.”

He flipped me off, looking away as his face flushed dark red. “You don’t like her.”

“I never said I didn’t like her.”

“You didn’t have to.” He finally looked at me, but he wasn’t mad. If anything, he looked exasperated. “So what is it this time? Too skinny? Too blonde? I think that’s fake, by the way, like a wig or something. Is the color of her eyes all wrong?”

That produced a grin from me. A very welcome grin. I realized how strange it felt to smile and genuinely mean it. The heaviness in my gut began to dissipate, lightening my shoulders. “Nothing’s wrong with her,” I said carefully. “She just doesn’t seem, uh, like the kind of girl you usually go for.”

“You mean the bookworm man-eaters? Don’t know about the man-eating part, but she’s totally got brains.”

I glanced at her doubtfully.

Erik’s tone deadpanned. “She’s studying to become a surgeon, smartass. Being a Fox is how she pays for med school.”

My brows shot up. Now there was something I would never have seen coming. “Med school’s expensive as hell. Even with tips and wages, she’d still be in the hole without financial aid.”

“Actually, the club is owned by a wealthy entrepreneur who started out with little more than the clothes on his back and a big idea. As gratitude to his Foxes for helping make his dream come true, he set up a tuition assistance program. It has stiff standards - I think they have to be a full time student and average over a 3.5 GPA - but if they are accepted, The Fox Hunt Funds
will foot up to fifty percent of the bill. Sapphire is one of only five girls working here who are eligible for it.” He smiled at me. “Not all of us can be born with a silver spoon our mouths. Some of us have to work for it.”

Now I felt like an ass. I might as well stuff my whole foot in my mouth while I was ahead.

When Sapphire returned with our drinks, I had a newfound respect for her. “Thank you very much,” I said, adding on a wink and a grin I knew made girls’ knees shake.

Sapphire blinked, seeming caught off guard. She swallowed and nodded, her fingers trembling when she went to hand Erik his cream-filled concoction.

Inwardly, I smiled, my eyes locked onto her fingers. If I still had that effect on a woman, then maybe there was hope for me after all.

Too bad it would probably take ages for me to feel anything for another girl again.

The lights dimmed, and a woman’s voice came over the intercom system. She sounded more like a phone sex operator than an announcer. “Gentleman, you know what time it is.”

Men began scrambling for their seats, all eagerly turning toward the stage with their tongues practic
ally hanging out of their mouths.

“Every night at midnight, we give you our most exquisite dancers. If you’re a Fox Hunter, get that cash rea
dy, because when the scale drops, it’s free drinks on the house and a table dance for every patron on the winning side. And if you’re a newcomer…” Dramatic pause. “Then prepare to have your fucking mind blown.”

The stage lit up with classic 1950s lights on the catwalk, and a glistening red silk curtain came into focus of the spotlights. The hum of cables heralded the arrival of a giant golden scale that was sculpted into a pair of breasts, lowering from the ceiling in front of the stage. Already men were tossing
cash into it.

Music grinded through the speakers, revving up and growing in volume as the men began whistling and cheering, some already drunk off their asses. Begrudgingly, I even found my own heart rate pick up at the promise of something exotic and secret. I had to give the owner credit - he knew how to work up a crowd.

Without warning, the curtains flew open at the climax of the beat, which launched into an eardrum-shattering, driving grunge tune that vibrated the tabletops. The music was hot and racy, perfect for the temptress that sauntered out onto the stage with a tube of red lipstick smeared on her mouth, and enough glitter covering her mostly bare body to make Tinker Bell green with envy. She was pretty enough; by some men’s standards, she might have even been drop-dead gorgeous.

But I saw through her done-up hair, the erotic pulse of her hips as she made love to the poles, and her glue-on lashes. It was fake. I craved something real, something that made me feel alive.

Something like what I’d lost.

The others didn’t mind. They pooled their cash in the scales, and one of the giant golden boobs tipped further to the left, causing a cry of outrage from the men on the right side of the scales. As the girl began working the catwalk, particularly the right side, the men went wild and began tossing their cash into their side of the scale, tipping it back in their favor but not fully sinking it.

I sat back in my seat, arms crossed, watching with apathy. “They could rob a man blind, and he wouldn’t realize it ‘til he got home to his wife and realized his wallet was empty.”

“That’s the idea!” Erik yelled back.

The procession continued in much the same way for nearly half an hour. One girl after another paraded around the stage in an equally revealing outfit, to music that was starting to sound monotonous. Two drinks in, Erik started cheering, dropping a twenty into the heart-shaped bucket Sapphire carried when she strutted by. Erik hardly paid her any attention - his eyes were glued to the leggy brunette on stage. I glanced to the side for only a second, noticing Sapphire’s eyes lingered a little longer on Erik as she passed, and the smile on her face looked strained.

I looked back at Erik, who seemed totally clueless. Glancing at my watch for the umpteenth t
ime, I polished off my Jack and Coke, nearly gagging at the watered-down Coke, and started to get up. “I’m going to find a restroom.”

“Wait!” Erik frantically motioned for me to sit. “You haven’t seen the best part.”

“Oh, I think I have,” I grumbled, pushing up out of my seat anyway when the music abruptly died and the lights dimmed to barely nothing. Cursing, I hesitated, unable to see much until my eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. A smoky blue light was growing beneath the curtain, at the center of the stage, illuminating the silhouette of yet another girl. Tired of the same old shit, I was about to turn my back in search of a bathroom when the first strands of a classic jazz tune came through the speakers, a welcome contrast to the mindless drone of the past half hour that left my ears ringing.

As the vocals began, the light intensified, revealing a woman with naturally colored skin and long curling hair that looked like fire. The dark auburn hue was brought out by the complimentary green of the stage lights - probably on purpose, I noted to my inner artist’s satisfaction - and when the girl turned to look at the audience, I froze where I was, halfway risen from my seat.

Where was all the overdone makeup? She had cosmetics on, but it was natural-looking, enhancing her features and her fiery beauty rather than detracting from it. She was elegant and beautiful, in an old Hollywood pinup girl kind of way, just like Marilyn Monroe. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I didn’t want to.

Erik grinned as I plopped back down in my seat, a little stunned. “Worth the wait, huh?” Erik yelled.

“Who is she?”

“They always save her for last. She’s a house favorite. Her stage name is Angel.”

Angel. It sounded too sweet for the sultry goddess lighting up the whole stage - hell, the whole room - with her sensual moves that while conservative, seemed twice as erotic as what the girls who had come before her had done. They were smoother, like what you’d see when watching a trained dancer, like a ballerina or a ballroom dancer. I’d expected a name like Venus or Hera or something worthy of this goddess’s undeniable power over men.

When she hit the catwalk, the s
cales were so overflowing with cash, I didn’t think either side would win. The men were shouting, whooping, and whistling, throwing money onto the stage as she wrapped up her routine. Eyeing her needlepoint stiletto heels, I didn’t see how she could avoid slipping on the mess of green bills littering her path. The waitresses circling the room approached their designated side of the scales, dumping their buckets of money in. When they finished, a buzzer went off above the scales, the nipples of which had lit up with corresponding gold light, declaring both sides winners. The noise level went through the roof as the men stood and cheered.

“Fuck yeah!” Erik yelled as the noise drowned out the background music.

Frantic, my head whipped back to the stage. Angel was gone.

I dismissed the slump in my shoulders to my imagination, denying the reason my eyes were sweeping the curtain line, waiting for my goddess to reappear.

The waitresses circled back to the bar, which the scantily clad bartenders were feverishly lining with full-to-the-brim beer mugs. Sapphire stacked her tray, then came to our table. “Enjoy the show?” she asked over the noise.

Erik suddenly became very composed. “It was all right.”

I stared at him. Unbelievable.

Sapphire seemed to perk up at this. “Well, it’s not over yet. Thanks for the tips, gentleman.” The waitresses climbed on top of their tables as the music switched to something dark and sensual, booming throughout the room and pulsing through the floor and into the soles of my shoes. Erik sat back, drinking his beer with one arm thrown across the back of the couch, staring up at Sapphire’s gyrating body with a satisfied smile as she worked the pole in the center of the table.

I sat there, but my mind wasn’t on Sapphire, or the beer, or the frat party-like chaos ensuing around me.

It was where my eyes were, on the stage, hoping to see a glimpse of fiery red curls.

CHAPTER 3

Angel

I DOVE FOR A towel first thing when I got backstage.

It was at least fifteen degrees cooler behind the curtain than in front, since the stage lights tended to put off a lot of heat. Before I did anything, I dabbed at my face, being careful not to smear my makeup. I wasn’t so much worried about messing it up since I didn’t have to go back out on stage and I didn’t have any private clients tonight. I was more conscientious that I’d get lipstick on the towel and then end up streaking it across the rest of my body when I went to clean up. If it were normal lipstick, it would come off easily with a shower, but the special Ever Stay brand Mr. Curtis made us buy was both expensive and stained the shit out of everything it touched. I’d be lucky if my lips ever returned to a normal color over my lifetime.