Page 42 of Fury
In seconds, Slash had the douche in a choke hold. She forced him outside, pulled her knife. One snap and the blade jutted out. “You need to get the hell outta?—”
Jilly ran outside. “Melody…Slash, stop! Let him go!”
Slash released him, closed her blade.
“Whoa, you might be gorgeous, but you’re bat-shit crazy.” The guy raised his arms in mock surrender, walked backwards into the parking lot before jogging away.
Jilly stared at Slash. “You gotta take it down a few, ‘kay?”
“Sorry. I flashed back to when we lived together and I did nothing to defend you,” Slash explained.
“We were just kids back then,” Jilly said.
Slash slipped her blade into her bag.
“Most of the customers are cool,” Jilly said. “Horny as hell, but they try to keep their hands to themselves. Not gonna lie, we’ve got some who like the turkeyandall the trimmings, if you know what I mean.”
Slash stepped close. “Are you talking about prostit?—”
“Donotsay that word.” Jilly glanced around.
“Is that what you’re talking about?”
“I was offered the opportunity to make more money, but I said no,” Jilly confided.
Nausea clouded Slash’s thoughts. If she was going to get to the truth, she’d have to go deep undercover. Screwing a stranger would never happen, so she’d let Providence know she was out.
“We should get back inside before Karen finds out you put a customer in a choke hold, then pulled a knife. You’re definitely a badass.” Jilly paused. “If you don’t want to get fired, you gotta chill.”
When they returned to their table, the head bartender hurried over. “Everything okay?”
“This is Slash,” Jilly said. “She’s one of our new dancers. Our head bartender, Bradley.”
“Yeah, so I saw what happened,” Bradley said. “You can’t attack customers like that.”
“Won’t happen again,” Slash said.
“How ‘bout a refill on your drinks?” Bradley asked.
Both declined, and Bradley returned to the bar.
“We get hit on all the time,” Jilly said. “You get used to it.”
“When Karen told me I couldn’t ghost on her, you shook your head,” Slash said. “Has the club always had high turnover?”
“No, the last owners—a husband and wife—they were great. The dancers and servers stayed on for years. We were treated like family.”
“What changed?”
“They left, and Karen started working here.”
“When?”
Jilly paused. “Five months ago.”
“Are dancers leaving because she’s a bitch?”
“The womenhaven’tghosted,” Jilly murmured. “They’ve gone missing.”
