Mia
This is crazy. I’m standing outside a nightclub in downtown Briar Point, in a dress literally made for a stripper, ready to face my emotionally-hindered, ignorant, dumb-ass stepbrother, basically to beg him for sex. Why? I have no idea. Mostly because I feel like a ticking time bomb, and I’m tired of waiting and playing by his rules and putting my own wants and desires behind his.
It’s time to put these men to the test, and Garrett is up first.
I’m ready to give him an ultimatum. Sex or nothing at all.
No. A relationship with sex or nothing at all.
Oh God. He’s going to say nothing at all. Of course, he is. He’s already made it clear that he’s not interested in baggage in the form of a girlfriend, especially an annoying, younger stepsister.
Fuck it. Worth a shot, anyway. If I finally take this leap with Garrett, then maybe I can finally leave Drake behind.
When the driver dropped me off at the door of the club, I didn’t quite expect this. It’s so quiet. I thought there would be bass thumping through the walls and drunk girls stumbling out the door with Axe body-sprayed men.
Instead, it’s a discreet black door on an old brick building with the black metal logo hanging above the door: SPC
The ominous nightclub only goes by initials online when I did a quick search of the phone number Laura gave me—which she said he reluctantly gave her after she hounded him for it in case of an emergency. It’s making me wonder what kind of club Garrett really owns. Is it a strip club and he didn’t tell me? I mean…it would sort of make sense. He’s been so aloof about the details, but I guess I assumed all this time that it was just another dance club.
Oh well. I can walk into a strip club (looking like a stripper). Smart, Mia.
There’s a bouncer at the door, but he’s not the beefy, tatted kind you usually see at clubs. He’s in a black suit, looking a little too fancy to be a bouncer. Still, he opens the door for me, and I take a heavy breath before walking inside.
Here goes nothing.
After stepping through the door, I’m in a dimly lit lobby. Everything in here is black. Black curtains, black carpet, black counter behind which stands a woman in a sleek, black pantsuit.
“Hi. Welcome to Salacious. Are you a member?” she says, greeting me. I catch the way her eyes skate over my body, probably judging me by my call-girl getup. I can already tell that this establishment is way too nice for a dress like this; it’s made for strip clubs they put up by airports, not members-only clubs like this. I came to the right place, right?
“Um…actually, I know one of the owners,” I stammer, sounding ridiculous.
She nods with her lips pressed together. I’m no dummy. The look on her face screams sure, you do.
Too bad for her, I’m not some doe-eyed virgin, too scared to walk into a strip club or battle some hostess drunk on her own power. I straighten my shoulders, clear my throat, and look her square in the eye.
“Garrett Porter is my brother, and I’d like to see him. Right. Now.”
Her eyes widen as she stares back at me. Then her bottom lip falls, as if she’s about to argue, when someone appears through a dark curtain I didn’t even realize was a doorway.
I’ve only met Hunter a couple of times. Garrett brought him and his then-girlfriend-now-wife, Isabel, over for Thanksgiving once when they had just moved into their new house and didn’t have a table to even eat at. The other times were mostly short moments, and I know Thanksgiving, in particular, was at least four years ago, so I was only nineteen.
I don’t expect him to recognize me at all, but when he glances up from the tablet in his hands, in mid-sentence with the girl behind the counter, I watch his eyes nearly pop out of his head.
“Mia?” he gasps.
“Hi, Hunter,” I reply with a smile. Hunter is so good-looking in a rugged, manly sort of way. He has a head full of curly black hair that he keeps trimmed short and buzzed on the sides, letting a few stray curls fall over his tan forehead. He has dark eyes and full lips, making him a walking wet dream. Isabel is a very lucky woman.
He pulls me into a warm hug, and I practically sneer at the hostess. When he pulls away, he holds my shoulders and stares at me as if I’ve just come back from the dead or something.
Then his eyes drift down and over my dress.
“Wow…you’ve really grown up,” he says with a hint of uncomfortable reluctance. “When I saw you, I assumed you weren’t even old enough to be in here. How old are you now?”
“Twenty-three,” I answer.
“Wow,” he replies. “Are you here to see Garrett? He must have called you after our meeting today.”
“Umm…yeah,” I lie, because I’m not sure I’ll get past that black curtain if I don’t make it seem like I’m one hundred percent wanted here. If Garrett was okay with me being in his club, he wouldn’t have kept it a secret. Because it’s definitely not a dance club, although I’m still not entirely sure what lies beyond that curtain.
“Awesome. Come on, I’ll take you to the office.”
“Thanks,” I reply, sending the girl a big fake smile before Hunter guides me through the black curtain.
The main room we walk into is huge, with tall warehouse high ceilings and a second-floor balcony around the perimeter. There’s a giant bar off to the left and a stage with a DJ booth in the middle. The music is more sultry than the kind of club music people would dance to; in fact, there are no people dancing at all.
There are, however, two giant cages on either side of the stage with topless women moving to the music. But it’s not like any strip club I imagined where men would sit around them, stuffing bills into their G-strings.
There are tables scattered around the room with people filling most of the seats, some couples, and other small groups. Hunter leads me through the main room so fast, I barely get a chance to take it all in, but it’s certainly not at all what I expected. It’s like some super discreet, exclusive strip club…but where are the strippers?
There are a lot of doors along the two floors, so maybe they’re in there?
Suddenly, Hunter is ushering me through a staff-only door that leads to a hallway that runs the length of the main room. We walk together down the long corridor, making small talk as we go.
“I’m glad he called you,” he says. “He was against it at first, but I know you can bring something awesome to the club.”
I’m striding next to him, trying to absorb what he’s saying, but I can’t seem to keep up. Called me for what? What would Hunter think Garrett would need me for?
I don’t want to let him see my confusion, so I answer noncommittally. “Yep. Me too.”
“You know how he stresses,” Hunter says. “Maybe you can help keep him calm about the whole thing.”
“Sure,” I say. Because I do know how stressed Garrett can get. And whatever it is, I do want to help him, and I don’t want to blow my cover before I can. So, I quickly change the subject. “How’s Isabel?”
“She’s good. Owns her own yoga studio now.”
“Nice. Good for her. Tell her hi for me.”
“I will,” he responds, as we reach a door at the intersection of two hallways. It opens to a huge office space that looks like all the owners share. Next to this door is one labeled Security, but it’s closed. There are various other doors down here, which look like supply closets and electrical equipment rooms. I don’t peep around too much, but I do scan the empty office for Garrett, who doesn’t seem to be around.
“Well, he was in here,” Hunter says as he pokes his head around the corner. “Why don’t you sit tight in here, and I’ll go hunt him down.”
“Sounds good,” I reply sweetly as he leaves me sitting in a foreign office in a strange club with a whole lot of uncertainty.
But I’m really not the kind of girl who sits around and waits.
So as soon as Hunter disappears down the long hallway, I poke my head out of the office. Some of the doors are labeled, but some are not. And I can tell by the sound of the music that some of these doors will lead back into the main room.
I am too damn curious to sit here and wait for him. And I have a feeling when Garrett does find me, he will quickly usher me out without any answers. Fuck that.
Quietly, I turn the knob on the first black door. It opens to a dark hallway—much darker than the main room. Quieter too. Taking a peek inside, I see people standing in random places, staring at something I can’t quite make out. And it’s giving me museum vibes, but it feels too intimate, so I quickly back out and escape to the staff hallway.
Wandering farther down the hall, I find a door that leads to a brightly lit and silent stairwell. I quickly close myself in. It’s only one flight, and when I reach the second floor, I find another ominous door. It’s unmarked, but I hear music playing on the other side, so I ease it open and step into a dark foyer that leads to yet another door, probably meant to filter out the light from the stairwell.
I almost turn back before going through the second door, because it’s slightly quieter up here, but then I hear something—a high-pitched yelp that sounds distant, and a hell of a lot like someone is fucking on the other side of this door. Maybe that would be a good sign to leave, but I can’t help myself. I’m too fucking curious to walk away now, so I carefully peel the door all the way open and slide the black curtain aside to sneak in.
I’m standing speechless on the perimeter of a room in the midst of…an orgy. I don’t really know how else to put it, but my eyes don’t even need to focus for me to see what’s happening here.
It’s a lounge with a cushioned sofa lining the wall, and a recessed sitting area in the middle with more seats, each of which sits a woman getting absolutely railed. The music is loud enough to mask the sounds of sex, but it’s still there.
My mind is scrambling. This is what Garrett does? This is his club?
Is this what people do in exclusive strip clubs? I haven’t seen one fucking stripper, though.
Two minutes ago, I was reminiscing with an old friend who’s been to my parents’ house on Thanksgiving, and now I’m standing in the middle of a fuck fest. Nothing makes any sense right now.
Movement catches my eye and I notice a woman walking through the room, seemingly unbothered by the display around her. She has long, sable black hair and full, pouty lips. She’s probably one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, and she carries herself like a modern-day Cleopatra.
I can’t take my eyes off of her as she passes by a round sofa, stopping to say something to a man in the middle of receiving a blow job from two women. Then without warning, her eyes are on me.
She’s walking toward me, and I start to panic. I need to get out of here, but she’s reeling me in.
“Oh, baby girl, you look lost,” she says sweetly as she touches my arm. On instinct, I flinch.
Pulling her hand back, she smiles. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I noticed you were staring, and people don’t generally stare up in the VIP room.”
“VIP room?” I reply in a breathy gasp.
“Yeah. Are you lost? It’s a little calmer downstairs if you’d rather go there.”
“This isn’t a strip club, is it?” I ask, and the woman replies in a low chuckle.
“Wow, you are lost. How did you even get up here?”
“I’m one of the owner’s sister.” I have to keep my eyes on the thick lines of makeup over her eyes or else I’ll get too distracted by the movement and the moaning behind her.
“Owner’s sister?” she echoes, and there’s a definite furrow in her brow as if she’s thinking something through. Finally, realization dawns on her face. “Holy shit. You’re Mia.”
Confused, I nod.
“I’ve heard about you. I was actually looking forward to meeting you. But let’s get out of here. It’s not really the place for…conversation,” she says, glancing back at the action around her.
With that, she takes my hand, and I let her lead me across the room and through a curtained doorway, leaving the sounds of sex behind us.
