Page 103 of Bourbon Truths
“Thank you,” I said while walking to the locker room and grabbing the duffel bag Diego had brought by for me since I had been too busy to stop at home.
“Does this have to do with that other woman who brings her daughter here?” Goldie asked, seeming nervous about my answer. “Is she a love child?”
“Ask your fiancé,” I responded, not in the mood to tell the nosey Goldie everything. Knowing her, she would ask a million questions, and I would never get out of here.
“Ugh, he doesn’t tell me anything when it comes to you.”
“Well, he has permission. Tell him that.”
Goldie chased after me. “Can you text him that? He wouldn’t believe me if I told him.”
“Maybe it’s because you lie too much,” I said, turning to face her.
“I do not! I just embellish things. It makes for a better story.”
“Say it how you want; it’s still lying.”
“Whatever,” she responded defiantly. “Can you just text him for me?”
“Why does it matter that much to you?” I asked, the bag slung over my shoulder.
“Because I’m nosey! I need to know what’s going on in everyone’s lives. Do me a solid and text Jett, then I won’t bother you anymore.”
“That’s a giant fucking lie, and you know it.” I laughed.
Goldie gave me with a questioning look, as if she was confused by the person standing in front of her.
“Umm, I’m sorry, did you just laugh?”
“I’m leaving.” I turned but heard Goldie clapping behind me.
“You laughed. It was all throaty and sexy too. Lyla is a lucky girl.”
“Drop it, Goldie,” I warned but with mirth in my voice.
I spent the next thirty minutes showering and getting dressed. Diego had packed a pair of my worn grey jeans, black chucks, black shirt, and black sock hat. TheV-neck of the shirt showed off some of the muscles in my chest and for once in a long time, I actually appreciated the reflection in the mirror. For once, I was proud of the man who stood before me.
I drove over to Kitten’s Castle and parked the car on one of the back streets near the club since cars were blocked off at night from going down Bourbon Street.
Nerves settled in as I walked to Kitten’s Castle. In my head, Lyla would be happy to see me, but after I’d left her this morning without saying goodbye, I could see it being the last straw. There was only one way to find out.
As I approached the club, one of the girls was standing outside the door, calling to men who walked by to come and enjoy the atmosphere of the club. She wasn’t wearing a bra and had kitten-shaped pasties over her nipples. Her garter belt and thong kept her cool in the steamy night air, and her heels had scuffs near the bottom, letting me know the woman was struggling, like every other female working Bourbon Street.
“Hey, coming for a lap dance?” she asked as I approached.
I didn’t answer her as I walked past her through the door and into the darkly lit club. It was just dark enough so you couldn’t see what men were doing under the tables and so you couldn’t see the grime in the place. I kept my hands in my pockets and walked toward the stage, where acts were in the midst of a change. I checked my watch and saw it was nine. Lyla would be on any minute.
Quickly approaching the stage, I looked around before going behind the curtain. Cigarette smoke immediately smacked me in the face. Barely covered women walked around with their hair half done and their false eyelashes hardly attached to their eyelids. Lyla was by far superior to these women in every department.
I looked around for Lyla but didn’t see her. It wasn’t until I heard the crowd cheer that I realized she must have snuck past me. Music ripped through the club, a heavy beat with a sexy undertone.
Lyla was on stage.
I peered past the curtain and saw her, strutting around in a thong and a T-shirt that scantily covered her breasts. The men watching her could no doubt see the underside of her boobs. Rage filled me as men started to slip bills in her thong and cat-called for her to take her shirt off. Lyla grabbed the pole in the center of the stage and dipped low then slowly rose back up, sticking her ass out for everyone to see. That was all it took. She was done.
Tearing across the stage, I gripped her by the arm and started dragging her away.
Shock was her first reaction, followed by anger.
