Iron Rods: 1 (Strip Club) (5 page)

Lyle’s expression turned contemplative. “Yes, go on.”

“Well, I and many other women I know believe the drinks at
Iron Rods are watered down. Besides being against the law, this is bad business
when dealing with women.” She peered up from her document. “You see, if the
drinks stink, then women will drink beer because you can’t screw up a bottle of
beer. But,” she heavily emphasized the word, “women are very concerned about
calories and carbs. We might drink only one or two beers an entire night. If
the mixed drinks are good, we’ll have several.”

“And the earnings of the club increase,” Bennett finished
off the thought. He studied Tatum again. He hadn’t given her much credit in
terms of intelligence. Though he often prided himself as a decent judge of
character, perhaps he had misjudged her. Was she actually as smart as she was
brusque?

“Another issue you have is safety,” she continued. “Iron
Rods isn’t located in the best part of Austin and the parking lot is not well
lit. By increasing your lighting and having your bouncer on the outside of the
building, you’ll give women a sense of security. We’ll feel safer getting to
and from our cars. Feeling safer equals better attendance.”

“I see.” Lyle glanced at Bennett. “I’m impressed. She’s
clearly given this some thought.”

“Oh I have. Wait ’til you see this.” Tatum leafed through
her papers and withdrew a drawing. “Mr. Truitt, with all due respect, you
aren’t going to get women into Iron Rods looking as awful as it does. My friend
designs clothes, which reminds me, your dancers’ costumes look like they came
from a thrift shop,” she said, getting off track. “But my friend is fabulous at
interior design. We worked together and sketched this French-inspired design
concept for the club.”

She pointed to the crystal chandeliers in the picture and
then pink-and-white-striped walls while discussing women’s preference for an
elegant surrounding over sitting in a room that resembled a drug den.

“I haven’t cost out this design, but what I can tell you is
that you’re way past due in reinvesting money into the club. Doing so will
bring back your customers. In addition,” she hesitated a moment and stared at
Lyle with her sparkling jade eyes, “you really need to get some better-looking dancers
who can actually dance.”

At least she had the decency to look embarrassed as she
dropped this unflattering bomb.

Lyle drank her every word as though each syllable contained
a powerful elixir. “I completely agree to most of the points you’ve made.”A grin
spread across his weathered face. “I like you, young lady. You have the kind of
spunk and energy I admire. Plus, you seem genuinely interested in improving the
club.”

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” she interrupted. “Wait until you see
this.”

For an hour, Bennett and his father listened as she
enthusiastically rattled on about her marketing ideas, social media approaches,
staffing and her “new business model” for hiring and retaining strippers. Lyle
could not contain his interest in her or her pitch. Not only did her bubbly
magnetism have the old man eating out of her hands, she had unwittingly stroked
at one of his favorite chords—Iron Rods, the first business he could call his
own and the meager beginning to his dynasty.

By the time Tatum finished talking, Bennett’s head pounded
and his balls ached with sexual tension. What had he done?

The pretty girl with the big mouth he found at the club
hadn’t been the ringer he hoped for. She showed a potential he never dreamed
she possessed. Considering everything she’d said up to that point, she might
actually be able to do the job competently.

Considering how badly he wanted to pull her up into his arms
and press her beautiful breasts against his chest, his decision to bring Tatum
in for an interview now bordered on masochistic. If only he’d listened to his
cock Saturday night. Instead of giving her a chance at a job, he should have
charmed her into his bed, fucked her until dawn and then sent her on her merry
way.

Lyle tapped on the mound of paperwork Tatum had stacked onto
the desk. “Well, I’m sold. I don’t need to hear any more. I say we hire her.”

“Wait a minute, Lyle,” Bennett said, dropping the coin on
the desk. Although he might want to see more of Tatum, a lot more of Tatum than
was proper, he needed someone in the manager position who would help bring the
club to a quick death, not build it back up. He scrambled to find something
that would turn his father against her.

“We know nothing about her education or her experience. We
need someone in the position who knows how to handle employees and customers,
remember?”

Without missing a beat, Tatum pulled a resume from her bag
and added it to the pile of papers. “I have a bachelor’s and a master’s degree
in dance from the University of Texas, and I’ve worked as the assistant manager
at Java Buena for two years.”

“She graduated from UT,” Lyle repeated like a trained
parrot. “She has a master’s degree.”

“A degree in dance, not business.” Bennett crossed his arms.
“We need someone with a business background.”

“I don’t have a business background,” Lyle said. “As a
matter of fact, I started out as one of the club’s strippers. Now look at me. I
not only own Iron Rods, I own dozens of companies.”

Bennett mentally rolled his eyes. How long would his father
continue to milk that dead cow?

“If it helps,” Tatum interjected, “all the electives I took
in my undergraduate degree were management classes. My father insisted I take
them as a backup in case my dancing career didn’t work out.”

A shadow darkened her emerald eyes. In that instant, Bennett
understood the tall beauty sitting on the other side of his desk. He knew her
hopes, her dreams and her disappointments. He figured out everything he needed
to know about her except one last little bit.

Not wanting to appear overly interested, Bennett leaned back
and studied one of his gold cufflinks. “It’s nice to see parents taking such
interest in their daughter’s education. I imagine sending you to such a
distinguished university for an undergraduate and a post-graduate degree must
have cost them a pretty penny.”

“My daddy drives a truck and my mom works as a waitress.
They work really hard, but they couldn’t afford to pay my tuition. I had to
take out student loans.”

“Your family sounds like good folk,” Lyle said and patted
Tatum’s hand. “The kind of people I like. I’m sure they’re very proud of you.”

“I’m sure they are too.” Bennett smiled. Just that easily,
he plucked from her the final piece to the puzzle that was Tatum Reynolds, her
motivation. Like so many recent graduates, she was in debt to her ears.

He filed the useful information in his head. The plan B he
needed to move forward with shutting down the club and building the high-rise
was coming together very nicely.

“Lyle, I think you may be right. Ms. Reynolds may just be
the person we need for Iron Rods’ manager position.” Bennett gathered her
papers and handed them back to Tatum. “When can you start?”

She shot out an arm in triumph and let out a whoop. “Thank
y’all so much. I won’t let you down.”

“Don’t worry, honey, I won’t let you.” Lyle stood and
motioned to Bennett. “I’m making my son personally responsible for you. He’ll
ensure you have everything you need and need to know to do well.”

“What?” Bennett’s back became rigid and his stomach dropped
to his toes. “I don’t have time to babysit a new manager. I’m the Chief
Financial Officer. I’ve got a job to do.”

Lyle waved off Bennett’s comments. “You’re a big-shot
businessman from New York with an MBA from Harvard. I’m sure you can handle
grooming the newest member of our company while doing your regular job. Plus,”
he added, his eyes narrowing, “you know how much Iron Rods means to me. You
will do your best to help this young lady turn the club around.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” the old man fired back. He turned and helped
Tatum out of her chair, then led her to the door. “Come with me, young lady.
We’re going to Human Resources to square away things there and get you the
building keys and codes to the alarm.” He stopped before leaving the room.
“Bennett, plan on meeting Ms. Reynolds at the club tonight at five. It’s
Monday, so it’s closed. You two will have the entire evening to get her
acquainted with the place.” He regarded Tatum with a dashing smile. “Does that
work for you?”

She nodded, causing her long blonde locks to dance around
her face. “Yes. I’ll put in my notice at Java Buena this afternoon.”

“Excellent.” Lyle glanced over his shoulder at Bennett.
“Mind that you take care of that property on the East Side. I don’t want that
deal to fall through. Like I said before, I’ve got big plans for it.” He placed
a hand on Tatum’s elbow and ushered her out the door. “I have a feeling this is
going to work out just fine,” he said to her. “Don’t you?”

* * * * *

When Tatum pulled into the club parking lot, the hopes she
had about Iron Rods looking better in the light of day than it did at night
quickly dissolved. Knee-high weeds grew between the edges of the lot and the
surrounding chain-link fence, as well as the numerous cracks in the asphalt.
The building itself seemed even uglier and more foreboding than it had the
night she and Heather ventured in.

Drawing in a deep breath, Tatum solidified her resolve. This
dump was her responsibility now. She may have failed at becoming a professional
dancer, but she would do everything in her power to never fail at anything else
again, including managing this down-and-out strip club back to health.

She unlocked the metal back door and pressed buttons on a
panel just inside the building, disarming the security system. With natural
sunlight streaming in through the open door, she located a switchboard and then
turned on each one of the lights. Suddenly she had a good view of the long room
she stood in. Just as suddenly the enthusiasm she’d experienced since getting
the position crashed onto the club’s filthy concrete floor.

Turning in a complete circle, Tatum took in the contents and
condition of what appeared to be the dressing room for the strippers. Thank
goodness she’d had the sense to change into a T-shirt and shorts before setting
a foot into the grubby hellhole. No way could she get through an inspection
without getting dirty herself.

Aside from the thick dust blanketing almost every surface,
the dressing tables, shelves and floors were littered with empty plastic cups,
bottles and to-go boxes. Cheap costumes and iridescent thongs hung haphazardly
over the sides of chairs and on a tattered workout bench. A few other pieces of
mismatched workout equipment sat in silent testimony to their disuse. In a far
corner a small shower had enough mold covering it to grow mushrooms. A sour
stench, like body odor mixed with stinky gym shoes, topped off the offenses.

The place was a pigsty. Little wonder no decent stripper
bothered working at Iron Rods anymore. Aside from the few customers the
business still managed to draw, the working conditions were nothing less than
horrific.

Tatum let out a small whimper as the enormity of the
situation settled in. The work required to get the club back up to par seemed
overwhelming. How would she ever be able to get everything done? Where would
she even start?

As much as she hated losing the fresh air, she closed the
door to the outside. She pulled a notebook from her purse and started jotting
down notes. For the next hour she could comb through the building and discover
for herself the state of disrepair the place was in before Bennett Truitt
arrived for their meeting. He’d have his own agenda he’d press on her. Lyle had
predicted that, as well as other things.

She thought back to how aggrieved Bennett had appeared when
Lyle put him in charge of her transition to manager. She had seen wild rodeo
bulls looking more serene than Bennett had at that moment. Yet despite the
aggravation reddening his cheeks and burning through his cool blue eyes, he
remained one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. Just sitting across the
desk from him had turned her inside out.

With the slick,
Mad Men
-ish good looks of a movie
star, Bennett could have easily graced the covers of magazines. He personified
perfection from his thick, black head of hair down to his polished dress shoes.
The way he walked, talked and even sat in his chair spoke to how well he
understood his place in the world and felt comfortable in it. Confidence and
self-possession oozed from the man like beads of wetness dripping down a cold
glass of sweet tea on a hot summer day.

Tall, strong men and take-charge attitudes. Those attributes
had had her heart skipping beats since she’d discovered boys in middle school.
It just figured, now that she finally had time for something other than college
classes and dance, Bennett of all people was the first single guy who caused
her heart to skip, do jumping jacks and loop-de-loops.

Wholly unlike the rough and rugged guys she associated with
being a man’s man, Bennett somehow took being manly to a different level in
ways that both intrigued and irritated the hell out of her. He might combine
the one-two punch of good looks and John Wayne charisma, but he also happened
to be an aggravating, pompous ass who would probably demand the same perfection
from others as he did of himself. He had the potential to bring out the very
best of her or absolute worst. Especially if she couldn’t keep her tendency to
pop off under control.

Failure was no longer an option though. If she had to, she
would wear blinders, bite her tongue and work nonstop using one hundred ten
percent effort to focus on her new job and exceed his standards. Clearly
Bennett didn’t think much of her yet, but soon he would come to see her as a
capable and valuable member of the Iron Rods team.