smile—rare for her. She’d had a raw deal in life and seemed half braced for blows all the time. Her girlfriend—also hot—tended bar at a lesbian club across town. They had a stormy relationship, he knew from talks like these. Nevada practiced more than the other dancers—always trying new bits—so they had these leisure hours to shoot the shit.
He leaned back, bracing his elbows on the bar and looked around. He liked Moons like this—quiet and dark, just stirring for the night to come, a few folks hanging out, setting up, throwing jokes and kicking around their news.
The door opened, sending a long triangle of sunlight into the place, burning his eyes like a vampire. He’d been living the nocturnal life of the bar for six months now and it felt right. He liked the dark. Everything looked better with the details blurred.
The door closed and he saw that Jasmine, another dancer, had entered, trailed by her eight-year-old daughter. “But I don’t want to read,” Sabrina whined. “I’m tired of reading.” Transportation snafus sometimes meant Sabrina hung around the club for a while before it opened.
“Hi, Jax,” Sabrina chirped, climbing onto the stool between him and Nevada, and giving him a smile bigger than her face. She had a little crush on him. He’d dated Jasmine for a while until they both lost interest, though Sabrina didn’t know this.
“I thought you were going to day camp,” he said.
“Cash flow.” Sabrina sounded too adult for her years.
“Horseback riding lessons are pricey,” Jasmine said, coming to stand behind them, beads and bells clinking in her gypsy skirt. Her dark, slanted eyes added to the effect, except she’d dyed her hair a fake blond.
“What can I do? I’m bored,” Sabrina said to her mom. “Can I try on your costumes?”
“No way.”
“Why not?” she said, halfheartedly, spinning the stool.
“Because they’re itchy.” The real reason, Jackson knew, was Jasmine didn’t want Sabrina to have anything to do with dancing.
“I’ll take her to the swim club,” said a voice from behind them. It was Autumn, the third of Moons’ best dancers. She wore her reddish-brown hair short and had great breasts, courtesy Mother Nature. “My cousin works there and at least she’ll get some exercise. She needs it. It’s summer.” Autumn was the most practical of the three. And the most blunt. She harped on Jasmine’s bad decisions about money and mothering, but she loved her like a sister, and Sabrina like a niece.
“How ’bout I teach you to play blackjack,” Jackson said to Sabrina, wanting to nix the tension. Jasmine did the best she could and Autumn could be harsh.
“Cool.” Sabrina stopped spinning and beamed up at him.
“My daughter is not learning how to gamble.”
“We’ll play for fun, won’t we, Sabrina? No money involved.” He leaned back to mutter to Jasmine, “Teaches her math. All the adding up to twenty-one, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess so.”
“Excellent idea,” Autumn said, patting his cheek.
Now that he noticed, she was Heidi’s height and build—well, not counting the jugs. “Listen, you got some clothes you could spare?”
“What for? You got secret habits, Jax?”
“It’s not for me. I’ve got this situation at home. With a woman.”
“A woman at home? Oooh,” Jasmine said. “I thought Gigi went back to Ohio.”
“She did. This woman, see…there was a misunderstanding about my place being for rent. She got her car and her money stolen right outside the door, so I’m letting her stay for a few days.”
“Letting her or making her?” Autumn said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Autumn said. “Just that you tend to be kind of…”
“Smothering, Jax,” Jasmine said. “You smother people. Like a big, hairy blanket.”
Somebody had to steer the girls away from trouble. Jasmine, especially. Dancers made good money, and customers offered more for favors after hours. He wasn’t about to let them ruin their lives without saying a word. “Well if it weren’t for me, a certain dancer I know would have paid fines up the ying-yang for late taxes.”
“I’m teasing, okay. Kind of.”
“And you didn’t bitch about the book work I got you,” he said to Autumn. She was great with numbers and he’d asked her to double-check the bar receipts, as well as the monthly financials for Duke.
“Just keeping you humble,” Autumn said. “So, what’s this naked vagrant’s name?”
“It’s…Heidi. And she’s not naked.” Had he said that weird? “She’s about your size, except not so much in here.” He held his hands out, shaping breasts. “Maybe some shorts, jeans, shirts and slacks—something she can wear to work. She’s a hairdresser.”
“A hairdresser, huh?” Autumn said. “Heidi the hot hairdresser. Sounds perfect for you.”
“It’s not like that.” He felt himself redden.
“Then why are you acting all twitchy?” Autumn asked.
“I’m not.”
“You do sound weird, Jax,” Sabrina said mildly, not even looking up.
“You have a thing for her,” Autumn declared.
“She’s from a thumb-suck town, she doesn’t know what she’s doing here. She was supposed to go to college, but she lost her tuition money. She’s just plain lost.”
“Exactly,” Autumn said. “And you have to save that poor lost girl from the big, bad…hmm…who is it you’re saving her from again?”
“I’m just getting her some clothes, okay? Maybe some makeup? Any of you have any extra face goo?”
“Give me a few bucks and I’ll buy it,” Nevada said. “I’ve got to snag some major pancake for this razor rash on my thigh. I look like I’ve got leprosy.”
“The best thing is to stay out of the spotlight,” Autumn said. “If you work the far stage, the lights are newer and…”
He played a few rounds of blackjack with Sabrina, while the girls kicked around technical issues, then went to check with Taylor on inventory and got busy with his routine—verifying the dancers scheduled for the night, checking in with the DJ, the waitresses, testing the lights and sound equipment, inventorying supplies. All the little things that ensured a smooth night.
Jackson hadn’t really wanted this job, but Duke had begged him. They went back for years and the man had loaned Jackson the money to start his auto shop, so he had to help out, as annoying as Duke could be.
Jackson took pride in having turned the place around. Receipts were modest, but steady, and he’d hired a good crew and set new rules. Everything decent and aboveboard. No skimming, no hint of drugs and pure respect for the dancers.
Duke seemed under assault these days. Family stuff, Jackson had gathered. His nephew Stan, whom Jackson disliked, shadowed Duke, showing far too much interest in the nightly receipts. The kid hung with some malevolent-looking guys, more than one of whom Jackson had eighty-sixed for getting grabby with the girls.
The night flew by, business was brisk and he even spun some tunes. Got some praise from a guy from L.A.—PR flak for a record studio—on the mix of retro punk that went well with the night’s dancers and their routines.
At 2:00 a.m., he locked up and headed out. He loved the drive home. Top down, middle-of-the-night quiet, warm air wicking the sweat from his skin. This time of night,