Chapter Four

SARAH

Girls, everywhere flaunting their goodies in bras that barely exist and G-strings that scream, 'Check out my butt.'

Every chick’s got her ass out, whether it’s inked or bare, and they’re all bouncing around like it’s nobody’s business.

I'm camped out in a corner of M.M.'s locker room, a bedraggled bird after my rainy escapade. Dropping my boss off and hailing a taxi turned into a wet adventure, but I'm here now, in the heart of the strip club, courtesy of Ruby's invitation.

She nudges me, “Hey loosen up!”

I pout, looking away. She sighs and continues lipsticking. “Ready to take off those clothes?”

I shake my head, “No. Not sure I can do this.”

“We’ve discussed this before, right? What’s holding you back now?”

I nod, agreeing we’ve chatted about this, but I trail off, glancing at girls around us. “Yeah, we talked, but…I mean.”

“Hunny, you don’t need to go full diva, alright. A little tease, a few sassy moves, and you’ll rake in those tips. Save the wild stuff for the pros, OK?”

I bite my lip, questioning my decision to venture beyond faking a male identity to take on a driving job.

“First-timer, huh? Well, legend has it virgins of the pole always score big. So, strip that suit off and get ready to hustle. Your debut's gonna be profitable, or my name's not Ruby Ryan.”

A stunned “What?!” escapes my lips.

“Come on, ditch the suit already! Are you turning gay or what? A woman in a strip club, dressed like a man, and what's with that haircut?”

I stumble over my words, “I-I’m hiding from the cops, remember?” It’s only part of the story, though. I haven’t confessed about my driving gig or my secret life as a male impersonator.

She grins, “Oh yeah, the whole 'Girl on the run' thing slipped my mind.”

I glare at her.

"Hey! No need to stress; I got you covered. If the cops come knocking, we’ll lay it all out—Leonardo’s a sleaze, and whatever happens to him, he’s earned it. Easy peasy, crisis averted.”

I take a deep breath and ask Ruby directly, "If things go south and I’m in court, will that story actually keep me out of jail for life?”

She scrunches her face, looking comically disappointed, “Honestly, I'm not a legal expert.”

I snap back, frustrated, “Then maybe you should stop talking if you don’t have any real answers.”

She laughs, “Okay, okay, let’s drop Leonardo for now. You’ve got a pole to climb in five, so get changing already!”

Ruby towers over me in her 7-inch red platform heels. She grabs my collar, undoing my buttons. “Quick, strip! If those bouncers walk in and think you’re a man, you’re outta here!”

I clutch my tiny ta-tas, insecurity creeping in as I gaze at Ruby's larger, fuller figure. Her bosom buddies are practically saying hi to my face, and mine look like they're playing hide-and-seek in comparison.

“Ruby, nope, not happening. I'm not doing this.”

Ruby’s cheeky smile greets me as she loosens her hold on my collar. I fuss over my suit, checking for any wrinkles, while casting uneasy glances around.

***

The following day, I roll up to the Grey's Estate bright and early at 6:45 Am. I attempt to channel my inner macho man. Stand tall, chest puffed out, spread my feet for a broader stance.

I wince.

Both Mr. Grey and his doctor glance my way simultaneously. I clear my throat to break the awkward silence, prompting the doctor to return his focus to administering Mr. Grey's treatment.

Strip club lesson one: heels are harder than they look.

I observe quietly as Mr. Grey get jabbed with needles, each one administered methodically by the doctor.

Every time he grimaces, I feel for the guy. He's usually all tough and in control, but now he's just a regular person dealing with pain.

The doctor finishes his task, packs his tools, and offers a courteous nod before exiting the living room.

With the medical visit concluded, an air of quiet settles in once again.

Mr. Grey bounces back to his usual self, strutting like nothing ever happened. Still rocking those sweatpants, he seems oblivious to the fact that it's Tuesday, a day when most people dress up, not lounge around.

“Sir, any work obligations today?” I inquire.

He picks up the medication packaging, squeezing it as he mentions, “You haven't reviewed the schedule I shared with you yet.”

I clear my throat, responding, “No, sir, I haven't had a chance to look at it.”

“It's Tuesday, my day off. I have a doctor's appointment, so I won't be going to the office.”

No work? Yes, please… I crack a smile, feeling pretty stoked. “If you're not working today, should I take that as my cue to leave?”

“No. You stay.”

My heart sinks a bit, but I compose myself with a throat-clearing sound—a habit I’ve developed while practicing my deep, manly voice in the mirror. It’s a reminder to keep up the charade and not slip back into my natural tone.

“You want me to stay? “ I ask.

“The doctor says I don't have much time left, and I've got two scores to settle before my time's up: get revenge on my ex-boyfriend and apprehend the girl who hospitalized my uncle, Leonardo.”

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper as shock overtakes me. "You're… gay?" This time I forget to maintain my masculine tone. My cheeks burn.

Mr. Grey doesn’t seem to notice my little faux pas, but I’m still a tad nervous. “Leonardo’s your uncle,” I repeat, my voice still not quite settled. It’s not Sarah, not Sam…

Mr. Grey nods, still clueless about my vocal struggle. He casually grabs his leather jacket from the couch and slips it on, moving with the confidence of someone who’s got everything under control.

“your uncle? Is he... dead?” I ask again.

“He's in a rough spot, brain-dead, but I’m keeping faith he’ll bounce back. I see him running the family business someday. And since you’re gay, that makes you the right person to team up with me and hit Eddie where it hurts."

Me? Gay? I frown, my confusion as clear as day.