from his office. When he did show, it was usually not good news.
“Can I get changed first?” Nicki tried to inject some of her trademark cockiness into her tone, the look of irritation almost as well-rehearsed as her patented eye roll.
“No.” Jason tossed her a cape from the nearby hook, then turned abruptly and walked toward his private office, clearly expecting her to follow. The silence was deafening in the normally bustling room.
With a huge feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, Nicki followed behind, not even bothering to work up the bluster. After the day she had – running on minimal sleep, following up dead leads, the incident at the garage, then the debacle tonight - she didn’t have the strength.
“Sit.” Jason took a seat behind the massive cherry wood desk and poured out two glasses of brandy. Nicki remained by the door, shifting her weight slightly from one leg to the other. It was a habit she had tried hard to break, this subconscious preparation for fight or flight. It was as much a part of her as her strong survival instinct.
“I said sit,” he repeated, more firmly this time. Nicki stiffened at the authority in his tone. Her chin lifted slightly and her spine straightened.
“Nicki,” he exhaled, his tone not quite as sharp. “You look like you’re going to pass out any second. Please. Sit down . Have some brandy. And tell me what the fuck is going on.”
After a few long moments of hesitation, Nicki moved forward and did as he asked, though she remained perched on the edge of her seat, ready for immediate flight should it become necessary. Jason looked pointedly at the glass he’d set out for her and waited until she actually took a sip before continuing. As a general rule, she didn’t drink, and never while on the job, but a swallow or two of the high quality brandy might help her calm her frayed nerves a bit.
Nicki watched him carefully through guarded eyes, waiting for him to get down to it. It was a control thing, she knew. She’d dealt with enough men to know the ones who liked asserting their authority. At least Jason was fairly low-key about it.
While she waited for him to get to it, she took the opportunity to study him. They had only spoken twice before – once on the day she was hired, but that was more of a one-way interview than an actual conversation; she had been on stage auditioning and he’d been sitting in the dark, watching. The second time was earlier today when he spoke to her about Nick, but that meeting had been down in the bar prior to her shift in the midst of setup and in the presence of the bouncers. Now it was just the two of them in his office. Given the total lack of external noise, it was probably soundproofed.
The private space was not at all what she would have pictured for the owner of a gentleman’s club. Instead of garish colors and lewd art, there were neutral, soothing colors that tended toward darker browns and forest greens, and soft, ambient lighting. It looked professionally done. The polished cherry desk matched the small personal bar; the chairs were covered in comfortable and stylish sable leather. A few abstract prints brought some welcome splashes of color to the area, but even they tended toward the subtle. Overall, it was remarkably understated and simply done, yet very pleasant.
The man was just as surprising as his space. Young, well-built, attractive. With golden blonde hair that looked slightly tousled and rich, dark eyes, he looked more like the boy next door than a sin-merchant. It was no wonder half the female staff was infatuated with him.
She could see the appeal, but he wasn’t really her type – a little too all-American, too mainstream for her taste. Probably drove a BMW. Listened to classic rock. Vacationed at the beach. All good things, but not her style.
Not that she ever dated; she avoided that like the plague. But when