Pole Dance (5 page)

"We still got that P.I. on retainer?" Jake asked.

"Sure, Rich's still doing the odd research for us when needed. What's up?" Dale leaned against the door crossing his arms.

"Need him to research further than what's on this," Jake shot the paper across the desk. Unwinding himself from the door, Dale did a quick two-step to snag the sheet before it slid to the floor. He could see it was a one-page resume that only filled about a half of the 8 x 10.

"We hiring?" Dale's eyes skimmed the paper noting the birth date and bold print of job titles. Raising his eyes to Jake's, he amended with a smirk, "We hiring underage, toilet-scrubbers?"

Jake shook his head at the sarcasm in Dale's voice. They were both well aware of the laws and stayed strictly on the right side of them when it came to their businesses. They were successful and respected in all of their efforts for keeping within the guidelines of the city, county, state and federal mandates concerning each of their enterprises.

"Do I smell…," Dale paused as he lifted his head after his short read-through and tipped his head up moving it from side to side, sniffing the air. "…Girl?"

"Not a consideration even as a dishwasher," Jake chose to ignore the second question as he answered the first. "Contact Rich and ask him to run a full report on her. I want to know as much as possible in the shortest amount of time."

"Okay, will do. Although, the timeframe will cost extra," Dale reminded him, letting his jibe go for the moment. Jake nodded, knowing that Rich would provide as much information as was available on Caitlin and, if Jake was willing to pay extra for speed, then the report would be in his hands ASAP.

"We gotta do something about Fiona," Dale changed subjects while lowering himself into one of the leather chairs recently vacated by the lovely, steamy Caitlin. At Jake's stare, Dale went on. "She is again asking for more money and a cut of the drink tab during the hours for the nights she's on."

Jake rolled his eyes thinking to himself for the millionth time that while the clients were a huge challenge in keeping a business running, it was the hired help that were a serious pain in his ass. Fiona was one of the dancers and one of the four headliners that they used on the poles. She was stunning with her layered red hair and long, luscious legs and even had a handful of devotees that never missed a performance. But Fiona thought she was worth a lot more than what she actually was, especially for the town she was in. True, she had placed third in the Pole Dancing championships of 2009 and for a long time, the club was happy to have hired her. But, Fiona was a diva with a capital D, insisting on her own makeup table, intimidating the new girls and showing up for her shifts late. Behavior she had started after she had finagled her way into Jake's bed soon after hiring on. Fiona also had developed a very nasty habit for demanding more money about every three months which started the week after Jake had ejected her from his life and her fucking diva-tantrums from his bed. Rumor had it that she was now tight with Hank, one of their bouncers, after screwing her way through most of the other male employees of Fuego's, with the exception of Dale.

After a disastrous week long affair with their lead dancer back in the early days, Dale had learned his lesson. And made sure his buddy and business partner understood that neither one of them should ever, under any circumstance, bang the help. Since Jake hadn't shared his short-lived, Fiona fiasco with anyone, he was able to unblinkingly agree to the pact, a stance they had both since stuck to for the six years they had been in the business.

"Got anyone ready to fill her spot?"

"Nancy is ready to move up and Pam has been hinting that she'd like to try the stage instead of schlepping drinks," Dale replied. "But we cut Fiona loose we might lose Hank as well."

Jake, though unsurprised, was still unhappy at the thought. Hank was a good man, and a great bouncer who had the uncanny ability to pick out which customer was prone to causing trouble with just a quick scan of the room and eradicating that trouble before it became an issue. He could escort an unruly customer outside as quickly and quietly as possible all the while murmuring in the customer's ear that they looked forward to seeing him next time. Meeting Jake's 6'4" height but being twice as broad through his chest, Hank had worked his way up through the security ranks of Fuego's. He was recommended for more shifts and more responsibility by Max, Jake and Dale's head of security. Max had even pushed for Hank becoming a part of the hiring and training of the new bouncers and, as a result, they had fewer problems than any of the rival clubs in the area.

Losing Hank would be a much harder hit than losing Fiona.

"Lose her at the next infraction and sweeten the pot for him," Jake said firmly. "Sound good?"

"Worth a shot, anyway," Dale replied rising. "Anything else?"

"Nope, meetin' with the realtor regarding the office above Buxby's." Jake snagged his keys from the desktop and began moving as Dale rose to feet, too.

Dale knew that Jake was looking to expand their accounting business since business in that arena was booming. They had bought out the original firm a little over a year ago when the owner had died unexpectedly and were adding more clients daily based on the level of expertise the CPA's, those that had decided to stay with the new owners, were able to give. The area above the local, busy coffee house of Buxby's was huge and could hold twice as many cubicles as their present location--and at a cheaper rate. Dale knew that if it was what they needed Jake would have him take a look and then the decision would be made together. They both appreciated that the bedrock of their success was in the decisions that the two of them made and agreed on.

Turning at the door, Jake asked, "You?"

"Calling Rich regarding the toilet-scrubber, start my plan to scrape off Fiona the next time she fucking blinks wrong and doing everything in my power to keep Hank. Then, I'm getting busy with the pretty Penelope who's father owns four, count 'em
four
, used car dealerships. She's the princess of second-hand, man, and fancies herself a bit of a wildcat," Dale replied with a leer and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Play nice, big guy, and get back to me when that report comes in, the minute it comes in, yeah?" Jake tossed over his shoulder with a grin as he opened the door and flicked his fingers in farewell.

"Sure," Dale said softly wondering what was so intriguing that would have Jake investigating this particular girl and if it had anything to do with the wonderful aromas that were still wafting in the air. Catching the door before it could close, Dale steeled himself against the, sure as shit, world war three he would experience in firing Fiona's ass as he followed Jake up the stairs.

Chapter Three

"C'mon, baby," I muttered. "Just one more trip and you can take a rest"

I turned the ignition key again but this time there were only little clicks instead of the growling grind that had sounded following the first five attempts to get my car started. It was a behemoth that I had purchased with my parents help as soon as I got my license but was becoming more and more of a money-pit with the numerous engine problems that were occurring with more and more frequency.

I rested my head on the steering wheel hoping against hope that I had only flooded the engine. It was my 'go to' excuse when I couldn't get it started. This is just the shit I need
,
I thought recognizing my throat was beginning to thicken and my eyes begin to sting, clear evidence my body was going to release all the pent up emotions of the day. I steeled myself though, willing the tears back, knowing that crying wouldn't help now.

Wait 'til you get home before falling apart. I straightened the old blanket I had neglected to take out of the trunk when summer was over last year. I was now using it to help keep me warm since the heater had stopped working.

I had just beaten the emotional release back when I heard a knocking on my driver's side window. Jumping in response, all I could think was, What the bloody eff now?

I slowly rolled down my window to see Jake bent down peering in.

"Trouble?" he asked as my heart again began booming at his nearness. Even though he looked even better in daylight, I was still mortified by what had gone on in his office.

I had counted on never, ever seeing him again in this lifetime.

"Won't start," I said turning my head back to the console in order to break the tractor beam of his eyes that were now just inches away from me as he bent forward into my open window.

"Try again," Jake suggested and I turned the key and let him hear the clicks. Reaching into the back pocket of his well worn jeans, he removed his cell phone and punched a number as he straightened. "Trails? Yeah. Send the tow over to the club. Have it pick up a navy blue Buick and take it back to the shop. Have Skeet look it over and let me know, yeah?"

"What are you doing?" I asked as he disconnected the call.

"Having your car towed," Jake replied calmly putting away his phone. He opened my heavy, squeaking with effort, car door. "Don't think you're gonna be able to get it started, Darlin'. Come on, I'll give you a ride."

"But, I.."

"Caitlin, it's just a tow and a ride. Get your stuff and I'll get you home or wherever you need to be." He seemed determined as evidenced by his stance, legs spread and arms crossed over his chest as he waited for me to exit. My body didn't move but I turned my head towards him as I frantically tried to think of a reason for me to extradite myself from his company.

"Jake, I don't think…"

"Not gonna say it again. Get your stuff, Darlin', and let's go."

I stared up at him in his he-man stance for a couple of beats my mind still racing for a reason,
any
reason, to decline before I realized it really was the best solution to my problem. I reached behind me to drag out a pair of ready-for-the-trash tennis shoes that I kept in my car for 'emergencies'. I had already ditched the slut-sandals when I first got in. It wasn't the first occasion that I'd had trouble with the 'Beast' as I had affectionately and aptly named my huge '87 Rivera and the tennis shoes helped when I had to hoof it after Beast had an 'episode', as I euphemistically called each breakdown.

I turned my body to exit, slipped my feet in my tennis shoes and caught Jake's glance as I began to unwind the old blanket from around myself. "Uh, heater on the fritz," I explained.

Jake led me around the back of the club to a Silver Kia Optima and beeped the locks.

"Need to make a quick stop before I drop you off. That gonna be okay?" he asked as he opened the passenger door for me. I was a bit nonplussed by Jake's manners in opening the door and nodded my assent. "Give me your key to leave with Jorge and then we can go." I struggled but finally got my car key off the ring then watched Jake trot over to the door to deliver it. As he handed off my key, I seated myself and surreptitiously surveyed the interior of his ride--not missing any of the bells and whistles of a car that was, unlike mine, from this year, this decade.

We drove in a kind of tense silence broken only by the sound of his indicators as he navigated his way toward the small portion we locals called 'downtown'. He slid the car in a miraculously open spot on the busy main street and shut off the engine.

"Wanna come with?" he asked sparing me a glance as he opened his door although he didn't wait for my reply as he walked around the car and opened my door. My hand was captured in his when he helped me out and Jake continued to hold it as he gently pulled me across the street to Buxby's, our town's only coffee house.

It was the local hang out for teens and the college crowd but way out of my price range so unless Renee decided to treat, was a place I had avoided. Buxby's was a great, filled with small tables and comfy couches that seemed to circle the coffee station and its glass cases filled with tempting bakery delights. Not only was it a treat on your eyes and nose, it's coffee was killer and known to the best in town.