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“I was legal enough. I never said how old I was, and I don’t recall anyone asking.”
He flushed, and stared at me, trying to make me nervous, I guess. It was working.
I shrugged again and lifted my chin. “Besides, I was almost twenty, and I’d been on my own since I was seventeen.”
“Are you saying you didn’t lie about your age?”
“Only by omission. And okay, a fake ID when I worked for Gio’s. But once I came here, I was plenty old enough. And maybe you should have asked more questions if you were so bothered. Instead, you just took what you wanted—and so did I. It’s in the past now anyway. Why are you bringing all this up?”
“I don’t like liars, Cruz.”
I jumped to my feet and glared at him, feeling my heart racing. I really needed this job, but I wasn’t going to take his shit. “There’s no need for name calling, and I never lied to anyone.”
“What about your employer at the time? At Gio’s.”
“How is that your concern? I needed the job, so yeah, I lied. But I didn’t lie to you or on my application to this place.”
“Please sit back down, Cruz. You’re right—I’m mostly angry at myself.”
I shrugged. None of this was my problem, so I hoped he wouldn’t make it my problem. He looked angry that I dared to talk back to him. Well, I wasn’t one of his subs.
“I think there was a lot of lying going around that night,” I couldn’t resist saying.
“If that remark was directed at me, I never lied to you,” he replied, not raising his voice, but then he didn’t have to. “I never made you any promises.”
“Sure. No big deal. It was a one-night stand. I get that. I never said a word about it to anyone, and I never would, so if you’re worried about your reputation, or…”
“No,” he said, looking exasperated. “I’m not worried about anything.”
“Are you firing me then?” I raised my chin as I said it, feeling defiant. I thought my expression must be perfect, Just the right combination of defiance and high dudgeon. Or it would have been, if not for that little wobble in my voice.
He looked surprised. “What? No, I…”
“Then I need to get back to work. Sir. We’re busy tonight. If you don’t have any other concerns.”
He stared at me for a long moment and then nodded. “No. Go ahead, then. Your audience is no doubt waiting.”
I turned on my heel and went to the door, but he stopped me with my hand on the doorknob.
“Wait. There is one more thing, after all.”
“Yes?” I said, turning back to him.
“Put your damn shirt on,” he said, frowning at me. “Tell Tommy to wear his too. We’re not running a striptease show here, and that’s not the look I want for the bar. You can advertise on your own time.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, biting my lip and just barely stopping myself from firing off a little salute, because I really did need this job. Maybe I snapped out that “Sir,” a little hard, but it wasn’t too noticeable, I thought. I hoped. Without waiting for his reply, I turned and left in a hurry, and went back to the bar to let Tommy know we’d been busted, and our fun for the night was officially over.
Chapter Seven
A week went by, and things were fairly uneventful. Michael hadn’t been back, and I began to relax and believe my coworkers when they said Michael Bradley didn’t usually spend a lot of time in the Ft. Lauderdale club. He and the other owners—which now consisted of four businessmen, including David, who apparently still lived in Orlando—were busy expanding their business even further and had been renovating a new club in Miami that was due to open soon. That’s where Michael spent the majority of his time, according to the word around the club. Toby said Michael had a residence here in town, as well as a beach house that had belonged to his family closer to West Palm. Apparently, he came from a lot of money and had made a lot of his own too. In other words, he was out of my league in more ways than just his good looks.
A new guy started working as bartender on Tommy’s nights off, a red-haired young guy named Lawrence. He was about twenty-five, though he looked even younger, and his boyfriend was the club manager, Jerry. Nice to know nepotism was alive and well in the Den.
Lawrence was easy going and easy to get along with. He did a little flairing and was excited for me to teach him more techniques. That first night, he shared with me that he was a member of Lucifer’s Den, and that’s actually how he’d met Jerry.
“I’ve never seen you on the floor before, or Jerry either for that matter,” I told him.
“Well, you probably wouldn’t unless you went up to the Littles Room.”
