“You’re a pretty good dancer for not being here that long,” he said, returning my gaze, unperturbed.
“Excuse me?” I said, blinking rapidly, shocked out of my appraisal.
“This is the longest you’ve been in the same place since you left college,” he continued without missing a beat, taking the drink the bartender offered him and pushing mine toward me. “But for this line of work, the way you work that pole after just a month…if I wore a hat, I’d take it off to you.”
I expelled my breath in a haughty laugh. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“I should introduce myself, Beauty,” he said, raking his hand through his dark hair before holding it out. “You’re going by Beauty Hart these days, aren’t you? Do you prefer Amanda?”
“Beauty is fine,” I said, eyeing that proffered hand before fitting my own into it. “And you still haven’t introduced yourself.”
“Daniel Shepard,” he said, gripping my hand in his. “But Dan’s fine.”
I waited for some kind of explanation, some sort of insight as to why he knew my name before I gave it, how he knew I’d left college in Texas and wound up here in Washington state, but he only held my hand overly long before releasing it to swirl his drink—a dark alcohol over ice.
“What are you doing here, Dan?” I finally asked, curiosity overcoming my mistrust. I took great pains not to know anyone—wherever I went. It made it that much easier to pull the car out of park and leave anytime I wanted.
“I’m here to see if you want to flash your tits at strangers for cash for the rest of your life,” he said, rattling the ice cubes around in his glass. It was something of a shock to hear such a word come out of the mouth of someone who I’d thought was so refined.
“Excuse me?”
“This is a career that can’t last forever, you know,” he reasoned. “You peak in your late twenties, get pity tips in your thirties, and are something of a novelty in your forties. I know that seems like a long time away. When I was twenty-one like you, I thought thirty-two was a long way away, and yet here I am.”
Dan held his glass aloft in an ironic cheer, but I ignored it and took a sip from my cocktail. How did he know my age? I fought to keep some kind of poker face in place. It was obvious that this man knew much more about me than I did about him. I didn’t want to give him any more satisfaction than he probably already had.
“All I’m saying is that opportunities await you, if you’re willing to seize them,” he finished, draining his drink dry and signaling the bartender for another.
“I don’t fuck customers, if that’s what you’re implying,” I said, disappointed when he didn’t flinch at my language. I realized that I was still nearly naked and hustled to retie my bikini top and secure the coin-dotted wrap around my hips. It wasn’t much armor against the man who apparently knew me better than he should, but it would have to do.
“I’m implying no such thing,” he said, smoothly. “I’m talking about something else entirely. An opportunity far from this place of employment. Well, not too far, physically. The far I meant was more along the lines of culturally.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, shaking my head in consternation. I was tired of this verbal assault of banter I didn’t fully understand. It was past time for this fancy fellow to make his point.
“I mean I’m here to offer you a job on behalf of my family’s company—Shepard Shipments,” Dan said, retrieving a business card from his suit jacket pocket and flicking it toward me. The paper Dan’s business card was printed on was thick and subtly textured, but besides his position—vice president—it told me nothing.
“Never heard of it,” I said, flicking the card back at him.
“Keep it,” he insisted, pushing it back in front of me. “In case you need to contact me in the future.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I didn’t have a phone at my disposal but closed it again, thinking better of it. He didn’t need to know any more about me than he already did. A sudden rush of irritation swept over me. Why was this guy wasting my time in the first place? Why was he being so creepy?
“I think I’ve been a pretty good sport, don’t you?” I asked, keeping my voice sweet as my eyes narrowed. “But if you’re here to blow wind up my ass about shit that sounds too good to be true, you can fuck right off. I’m not gullible. I know when someone’s making fun of me.”
“I’m not—” Dan cut himself off and sighed. “I’m sorry. Maybe I am going about this all wrong.”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he agreed. “All right. I know that you attended the University of Texas.”
“That’s right.”
“But you didn’t finish,” he continued, casual, as if not finishing a college education wasn’t a big deal. If my parents had still been…if they could still…they would’ve killed me for leaving early, for not completing the degree they wanted for me.
“That’s right,” I said, sticking my chin out. “Is there a problem with that? College isn’t for everyone, you know.”
“I know,” he said, smiling. “I had to transfer no less than four times before I found the right fit for myself. So. At the University of Texas you took a business course. It was lower level—a general degree requirement—but you did quite well in it. Your professor—I don’t imagine you’d remember his name—took note.”
I scoured my brain. It seemed like a million years had passed between college and now, even though, in reality, it had been just over a year. My time on the road, the various scrapes I’d gotten myself into and out of, and all the ways I’d had to figure out how to get money took precedence over any book education. Still, I could vaguely remember taking a business class—and actually enjoying the things I was learning.
Well, as much as I could enjoy things anymore.
“That professor is close to my brother, the President of Shepard Shipments,” Dan said, after I’d obviously gone too long without saying anything. “And he recommended to my brother that you’d make, at the very least, an excellent intern at the company.”
I blinked several times. “Wait a minute,” I said, my nose for bullshit smelling something foul. “I left college more than a year ago. Surely there wouldn’t still be an internship available to me. You’ve had to have found someone else—maybe even multiple others. There’s no way that position would have been kept open for me.”
“You’re correct,” Dan said. “That position is no longer open. However, another is opening up. One of our employees is retiring, and my brother, being my brother…”—a frown creased the space between Dan’s dark eyebrows—“… has still kept you in his mind, even after all this time.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to take that information. Why would a president of a big company still consider me for a position after I’d left school and done all I could to vanish from the face of the earth? Hadn’t there been other promising students who could be recommended for internships?
“The thing is, this position that I’m offering you today isn’t going to be like the internship you would’ve been offered a year ago,” Dan said. “This position isn’t anything glamorous, but at least it’s a foot in the door. And maybe a step up from, oh, I don’t know, taking your clothes off for money and living in your car.”