Real Vampires: Glory Does Vegas Bartlett, Gerry (good fiction books to read .txt) 📖

Sid obviously didn’t like the idea that I’d “handled” him. Too bad. The show was winding down. It hadn’t been very interesting, just a series of bumps and grinds and seductive walks around the stage. As the music came to an end, Manny rushed back up to the stage.

“Wow, I know that got my juices flowing. How about a hand for the ladies?” He led the loud applause and wolf whistles. “Now they’re going to walk around the showroom and you can buy them a drink or get your picture taken with them. But I mean it—look, don’t touch. I promised my fair ladies you’d respect them. Don’t make me have to get my enforcers in here to put anyone outside.” With that Manny waved his hand and the dancers spread out, stepping carefully off the raised stage in those high, high heels.

I knew there had been a heavy cover charge, so being escorted out was an effective threat. At least the women moving closer got the drink orders flowing in and I was busy, hurrying to the bar to pick up the special “champagne” the dancers ordered. I knew from Mae’s instructions that it was sparkling cider. She didn’t want her ladies under the influence while they were working. I was pleased to see that Misty was popular and the photographer Manny had hired was busy taking photos and collecting fees for all of the dancers. It seemed like the topless thing was working, until it all went to hell.

“Lap dances? This ain’t no strip club, asshole.” A red-headed dancer with serious attitude threw her drink in a man’s face and stomped away from him, her jiggling boobs making it clear she was naturally well endowed.

“Donna, slow your roll.” Manny caught her arm before she got to the door leading to the dressing rooms. “Let the bouncers handle jerks like that.”

“Let me go, Manny.” She pulled away from him, her headdress falling off and landing on a candle in the middle of one of the tables. Whoosh! It went up in flames. Meantime, the jerk/asshole was shouting that he’d paid for her to have champagne and he could swear it was pure apple juice he was licking off his face.

Mutters of displeasure went through the room. I happened to know that these guys were being charged twenty bucks a pop for the bubbly. I’d be pissed too if I found out it was cider.

“Hey, Blondie, get over here and give me change. I ain’t paying for some high dollar drink if that’s what they’re sipping.” The man I’d served before had just handed me a hundred-dollar bill for drinks for himself and Misty.

“Sure, on my way!” I dug in my fanny pack for change while trying to stay away from the fire. Beautiful ostrich feathers were going up fast. Donna was wailing, clearly afraid she’d have to pay for her headdress. Manny had found a fire extinguisher and was shooting foam at the table, hitting the men who’d been sitting there and making them mad. Why hadn’t they moved?

“Here’s your change.” I threw it at him then hurried to the bar, dodging hands on the way. Misty followed me. I was relieved Valdez hadn’t heard Sid hassling me. All we needed was an angry dog in the mix.

“I’ve got to get out of here. It’s one thing to dance, but to walk around here with my boobs on display is just…” She shook her head then snatched a paper napkin off my tray. She tore it in half then stuck one piece on each boob. Apparently Tan Number Nine worked like glue because they didn’t move once they were on there. Misty’s boobs might be awesome, but they were clearly the result of some plastic surgery. They hadn’t wobbled once as she walked.

“I can’t take another minute of it, Glory. I’ve made a couple of hundred, that’s it for the night.” She saw Sid and hurried to him. After a little conversation she ran toward the dressing rooms, dodging the cleanup crew and Manny, who was trying to soothe the irate customers hit by the mess when he’d put out the fire. Donna followed her, her scorched feather headdress in her hands.

Manny grabbed the microphone. “Relax, folks. There’s another show in thirty minutes. You like Hawaii? You should see these gals shake their hips to island music wearing nothing but a flower lei. Did I say lay? Now my head is spinning.” Manny nodded to the rest of the women to leave the showroom. “Drinks are half price until the show starts. How’s that for a deal?” He put down the microphone.

I just stood there. That announcement meant I was going to be busy. My feet were killing me and I exchanged looks with the only other cocktail waitress. Compared to the topless dancers, we were looking like bank clerks in our bra tops, short shorts, and rhinestone covered fanny packs. Didn’t matter. The atmosphere was raunchy and every guy there obviously thought they could play “Grab Ass” with us. It was exhausting.

The Hula dance was just as boring as the first number. The only difference was the music and the flower leis. No headdresses this time. Also, no Donna or Misty. The women who were left did their best to look seductive as they did a dirty dancing version of a hula. Sad, really. The half price drinks had done the trick though. Drunk customers wanted photos once the dance was over and the dancers made a ton of money posing with them. I even got some requests. I checked with Manny and he made a deal with me to split the money.

I thought the night would never end. Finally, the last dance was done and the dawn was only a little more than an hour away. I knew I had to get out of there. Thankfully, the customers were leaving once the half-naked women were gone. I counted my money, settled up with the bartender and realized