Marcus said nothing, watching her spot the other girl as she tried to do the same maneuver Daisy had.
And watching as the girl failed.
“And the other girls don’t care, Marcus,” Smithie kept at him. “She packs the place. Every night, gotta send men home from the line without them even getting in the door because the joint is jumping. That’s cash in the cash register for you and me, brother. Cover is higher to get in with Daisy headlining. Bottles behind the bar getting empty and quick. My weekly order of booze has doubled. But it’s also cash in the pocket not only of the dancers, but the bartenders and the waitresses. Everyone is happy.”
Marcus turned his attention from Daisy to Smithie.
“Cut her back a set and a song each set and no private dances, Smithie.”
Smithie became angry. “Been in this game seven years, Sloan. And those seven years, been waitin’ for a talent just like Daisy to take Smithie’s, and all the souls I got workin’ for me who depend on it, to the next level.”
“Increase her salary by half a million, give her four weeks’ paid vacation, and cut her back a set and a song and no private dances, Smithie.”
Smithie’s eyes grew large.
“Half a mil?” he choked.
“I’ll cover that.”
Smithie’s face got hard but his mouth moved.
“The other part of the deal is that I work to buy you out as soon as I can. I’m about two months from doin’ that, now Daisy’s here. I don’t need you deeper, and no disrespect, I don’t want you deeper. You knew that from the beginning too. I needed you and you stepped in for me and you got my gratitude for that. You got it from the heart,” he thumped his chest, “and in the bank. But this is my club, brother, and I want it back.”
“I’m not buying deeper in, Smithie, I’m covering the adjustment to Daisy’s salary.”
“And when I buy you out? Who covers Daisy then? I don’t take a percentage of tips. Those are the girls’. I take a shave off the price of a lap dance of all the girls, but Daisy’s elevated pricing goes to her. How do I cover half a million fuckin’ dollars after you’re gone?”
“You won’t have to.”
“How’s that?”
“Because she’ll be gone.”
Smithie’s brows shot up.
“She’ll—” he started to explode.
He shut his mouth and stared at Marcus.
Then he whispered, “Motherfucker.”
He wasn’t calling Marcus that.
It was a muted exclamation.
Such was his shock, a surprisingly quiet one from Smithie, who was not a quiet man.
It took him a moment to compose himself and Marcus gave him that moment.
When he did, still quiet, he also seemed to brace, now surprising Marcus because it looked like he did it with a hint of fear, and Marcus had known Smithie for a long time and he’d never known the man to show fear.
“Don’t go there,” he said.
“I’m sorry?” Marcus asked.
Smithie shook his head. “Again, respect, brother, you got that from me, you know it, and I’m still askin’ you not to go there.”
There was the reason behind his fear.
Smithie might be a soft touch in some ways, but he was a hardass in all others.
But no one in Denver challenged Marcus Sloan.
Marcus turned fully to him.
Smithie took a small step back before he held his ground.
“Why would you ask that?” Marcus queried.
“She’s a good girl.”
Losing patience and having other things to do, Marcus crossed his arms on his chest, prompting, “And?” when Smithie said no more.
“She needs…” he started but didn’t finish.
“She needs what?” Marcus pushed.
Smithie’s focus sharpened on him.
“Peace.”
Marcus felt that one word stab through his chest, feeling it and remembering the vision of a beautiful woman with lots of hair and a big smile, hiding the fact she had to be tired in order to help out a friend.
“Peace?” he whispered.
Smithie shook his head again. “She and me, we throw back a few. She’s got time not dancin’, I hang with her during some of it. Took her a bit. She don’t trust easy. But she shared. And what she shared, Marcus, I’m askin’ you, man, just don’t go there.”
Now Marcus was angry.
In fact, furious.
He did not show this outside the steely edge that was now in his voice.
“I would not harm a woman.”
“Brother, you got a stable of whores.”
“I do not,” he clipped. “I oversee the management of a network of men who run escort agencies and I do this to make sure these men run this network appropriately.”
“Like I said, you got a stable of whores. Or a network of ’em.”
“You know that story, Smithie,” Marcus said softly, the soft not gentle, just quiet.
And dangerous.
Smithie did know that story so he left that but didn’t leave it alone.
“You got other shit you—” he started.
“Not your business.”
“It is, you tie her up in it.”
“She’s not your business either.”
Again, Smithie’s eyes got big and he threw an arm toward the window. “She’s a Smithie’s girl and she’s not my business?”