I’m no sooner in the hall after my gig than Nora is there, dragging me toward the dressing room. “Christ, girlie. I don’t know what you got going on out there, but whatever it is, keep doing it. You have three privates, and one guy wants you for an hour.”

My eyes widen. “An hour? But that’s, like, four hundred dollars.”

“It’s not ‘like’ four hundred dollars,” Nora says. “It is four hundred dollars, two of which go straight into your pocket. You must have an admirer.” She shoots a wary glance over her shoulder at me. “Those are the ones you need to watch out for.” She opens the door to the dressing room and prods me through. “You have fifteen minutes to rest your feet, and then you’re on.”

When she closes the door, I take a minute to just breathe before I make my way to the sofa, where I toss all the money I stuffed in my hat. It’s turned into more of a necessity than an accessory. I pull more bills out of my shorts and top and add them to the stack, then drop onto the sofa with my head back and close my eyes.

Three privates. If one of them isn’t Harrison, I’m going to be sorely disappointed. And if one of them is . . . he’ll never know what hit him.

I’m mid-fantasy when Nora pushes open the door. “You’re up.”

I scoop up my cash and hand it to her. “Can you have Ben hold this?”

She takes the money from my hand as she turns up the hall to the VIP room. “You got it. I’ll get your guys rotated so all you have to do is your thing.”

“Thanks, Nora,” I tell her as I grasp the knob. I take a deep breath and pull the door open. Inside, planted in the middle of the sofa, is a sweaty, overweight, middle-aged guy who I remember from my stage. He’s wiping his palms on the knees his khakis and staring at me with scarily hungry eyes.

“Remember,” Nora says low, so only I can hear over the music from the stereo, “any weirdness, just walk out or hit the panic button.”

I nod and close the door behind me. I go directly to the stereo and turn it up, loud. I don’t even look at the guy as I shimmy around the room. Instead, I think of Harrison . . . how I’m going to drive him wild. When the knock on the door comes, the time has gone faster than I realized.

Nora pokes her head in and Sweaty Guy stands. “That was . . . you were . . .” He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Thanks.” He leaves a twenty on the table near the door on his way out.

The next not-Harrison guy comes through in a T-shirt and jeans, already sporting wood. Nora flashes a glance at his crotch, then gives me a meaningful look that I know means I should watch this one. I nod as he lowers himself gingerly onto the sofa, adjusting his pants.

Nora closes the door, and in all the time it takes me to turn around, the guy has his fly open and his dick in his hand.

In a single heartbeat all the blood in my body rushes to my face. I’ve been with three guys total and it’s always been in the dark. Other than Jonathan, because I wanted to see his jewelry, I’ve never seen one so up close and personal. It’s a little bit of a shock.

“Oh my God!” I say, spinning back for the door. “You have to put that away.”

But when I glance back over my shoulder, he’s staring at where my ass is hanging out my bootie shorts and going to town.

I pull the door open and step into the hall to find Nora in Ben’s door, just a few feet away. “I need Marcus.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, that was fast. Wait in here.”

I move past her into Ben’s office as she lifts her phone and calls Marcus.

“I’m impressed with you,” Ben says, lacing his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. “You’re a natural out there.”

Warmth spreads through me and I smile. No one’s ever been impressed with me before. Not my parents, or teachers, or former employers. I’m usually just a big disappointment. “I really like it. Thanks for giving me a shot.”

“Well, you’ve brought in more than most of my best girls the last few nights, so, I know I said you were on probation yesterday, but you’re off today. This job is yours for as long as you want it.”

There’s a bang in the hall as the door from the club flies open and hits the wall, and Marcus barrels past Ben’s office on his way to the VIP room with Nora on his heels. There’s a shout from the direction of the VIP room, and I peek out to see Marcus dragging Horny Guy out by the arm. He opens the door at the end of the hall marked EMERGENCY EXIT and very unceremoniously throws the guy through it.

As the door slams shut, Marcus spins, and I stagger back a step when he beelines straight for me, stopping just a few feet away. He rips his sunglasses off. “Did he touch you?”

Without his glasses, I can see his whole face, and there’s not murder on it, like I’d thought. What’s creasing his face is worry. He looks me over like a concerned big brother.

“No . . . only himself.”

“Piece of shit,” he mutters, then shifts his intense gaze on Nora as she comes out of the VIP room. “You and Pete got to screen them better.”

Nora shrugs. “You can’t always tell. That’s why I pay you the big bucks.”

“You’re okay?” he asks, looking at me, the concern fading a little.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“All cleaned up,” Nora says. “Wait in Ben’s office while I track down your next one. He’s the one who’s got you for an hour, but if there’s any of that,” she waves a hand at the VIP room, “you know what to do.”

I nod.

There’s a burst of crowd chatter as she opens the door to the club and disappears through it. Marcus gives me a last concerned once-over and follows her out.

Ben gestures me in, then closes his office door. “Sit.”

I sink into the sofa, wishing it would swallow me. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Sam,” he says, opening a cabinet and pulling down two glasses. “Men want you. And you’re going to make both of us a ton of money because of it. Just be mindful of the rules. They’re there for a reason—to protect both of us.” He pours a shot of Jameson in each of the glasses and hands one to me.

“Thanks,” I say, then pound the shot and slam the glass on the corner of his desk.

He gives me a curiously amused smile. “Impressive. Not even a wince.”

My eyes flick to the glass and back, and I feel them widen. He must think I’m some kind of lush.

He bursts out laughing . . . probably at the look on my face. “No judgment here, Sam,” he says, lifting a hand, then knocks back his own shot. He slides my glass closer and pours us refills. “Jonathan said you’re crashing at his place? That your parents threw you out?”

I take the glass and rest my head back, watching my hand swirl the amber liquid. “Tough love. They think I’m a screw-up.”

He tips his head at me. “Why would they think that?”

I shrug and down my shot more slowly this time. “I was partying a lot, I guess, and sort of forgot to go to class most days. I flunked out of school.”

“Are they helping you out at all? With rent or food?”

“No. I haven’t even spoken to them in over a month.” I slide the glass onto the desk, not sure if I want Ben to refill it or not. He doesn’t.

“They haven’t even checked up on you?” he asks, surprised.

I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “Nope.”

He leans back in his chair and sips the last of his scotch. “If there’s anything Nora or I can do to help, let us know. We take care of our own here.”

“Thanks. This job has saved my life. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me for that. Like I said, you’re going to make us a ton of money.”

I sink deeper into the sofa, feeling the scotch seeping into my bloodstream. But when I hear Nora’s voice in the hall, I know it’s showtime. She’s says something low, then giggles like a pubescent teen just before a door in the back of Ben’s office clicks open. I’d thought that door was a bathroom or a closet, but I now see it leads to the hall that threads from the dressing room to the stages.