Page 57 of Bourbon Sins
“These are hot,” Babs said, as she held them up. “Too bad we’re not doing lap dances, because we would have men sprinting to the jack-off booths in two seconds.” The thought of that still made me cringe. It was so weird that the goal in our lives was to get a man to rub one out.
Mad that I was the reason lap dances were off the table, I went up to Kace, who was now on the phone.
“Is that Jett?” I mouthed as I tapped him on the shoulder. He shook his head no, but I didn’t believe him.
I grabbed the phone from. Yelling at me to give it back, I ignored him and took off in my heels as he chased after me. I put the phone to my ear and said, “How dare you take away lap dances when these girls work so hard every day. They deserve to give the members lap dances and make some more money, so I suggest—”
“Excuse me, umm . . . is Kace there?” A feminine voice came through the phone.
Err . . . that’s not Jett.
Embarrassment consumed me, heating up my face. I turned around to see Kace with his arms crossed, tapping his foot and waiting for me to realize that I was making an absolute ass out of myself.
No shock there.
“Yes, one minute. He’ll be right with you, ma’am.” I held the phone out to Kace and shyly smiled. “Uh, it’s for you.”
Kace took his phone, completely stoic and unfazed, even though deep down I wanted to die from mortification. I started to walk by him as I said, “I’m getting ready for my date with my friend, and I could give two shits what Jett thinks.” There, my respect was still intact as I walked out with my head held high and chest puffed out.
The girls clapped for me as I walked back to my room to get ready for my lunch outing with Lyla.
At least I could put on a good show.
* * *
“Girl, you look good!”Lyla said as she hugged me, and we both sat down at a table outside of Ignatius Eatery on Magazine Street.
“Thanks. I took the opportunity to order us both red beans and rice.”
“Bless your hooker soul,” Lyla said, as she sipped her water. “I haven’t had red beans and rice since you left. It doesn’t feel right eating them without you.”
“I feel the same,” I agreed, as I thought about the traditional dish we use to eat together all the time. Whenever we went to a new restaurant around town, we always ordered red beans and rice, trying to figure out which establishment served the best in New Orleans. We have yet to find a better red beans and rice dish than the one served at Joey K’s.
Leaning forward, Lyla said, “So, tell me all about the Lafayette Club.”
Knowing I couldn’t divulge that much information, I kept it pretty vague because, even though I loved my friend, I didn’t want to jeopardize any contract I signed. Because, to be honest, I was one lucky girl, and I planned on keeping it that way.
“It’s great. I’m having an amazing time. I’m finally able to be on stage, which, I understand now why you like it so much. It’s so . . . exhilarating.”
“Blah, blah, blah, tell me about Jett,” Lyla said, while rubbing her hands together and leaning forward.
I laughed and said, “Sorry sweetie, can’t.”
“Damn,” she said, pounding her fist on the table. “I thought that maybe I would be able to squeeze it out of you, but I completely understand. I don’t want to get you into any trouble. Are you doing alright though? I mean, you look happy. Are you happy?”
I thought about her question for a second. Was I happy? I think I am. I’m happier than I have been in nine years, at least.
“I am,” I nodded. “I feel safe and taken care of. I feel like the worries I used to have on a day-to-day basis are no longer nagging me, but instead, I can start to think about my future and what I want to do with my life. I’ve been able to draw more, which has relaxed me—”
“And you’ve been getting your vagina screwed,” Lyla cut me off.
Laughing I answered, “Actually, the first time I even met him was last night.”
“You’re shitting me. It’s almost been a month.”
“Tell me about it. I was almost positive my vagina shriveled up and died until yesterday.”
“And you don’t want to tell me about it at all?”
