Dance For Me (Strip in the City, Book 2)

12 • Hot Meal

Tan

The one Romeo couldn't take his eyes off? Surely Blanche was joking, but her steady gaze and firmness of tone said otherwise. She thought Romeo couldn't take his eyes off me? Heat warmed my cheeks and forced me to shrug off the comment.

He'd been shocked to see the tutu-wearing demon from the ballet company. That was all.

"It's nice to meet you, Blanche," I said, offering my hand. After contemplating me for a moment, she returned the gesture. I was surprised by how firm her grip was. "I love what you've done with the place."

She released my hand and let out a scoff. "I haven't changed anything about this place in fifty years. Go ahead and say what you mean. It's a shithole."

I couldn't hold back the laugh that sputtered out of me. "But it's a really charming shithole. With a lot of potential."

Blanche chuckled in her throat. "A charming shithole. Yes. Exactly."

"With potential," I added. I cast my attention around the room, imagining what this place could be with some updates. "You could remove the fold-down chairs and have them restored. Then pull the stage forward and add some kind of water feature, like an inch-deep pool to get the guys all wet. But I'd keep the character of the brass poles you have now. Kinda juxtaposing the modern and the classic."

Blanche and her friends nodded in agreement. "What's your name?"

I knew I shouldn't step into Romeo's world any deeper than I had, but being around Blanche and her friends had a weird effect on me. I was interested in their stories and club and how they became friends.

"My name is Tanushree. But you can just call me Tan."

Blanche's arm went around my shoulders, pulling me close. She was just as tall as I was in heels, and it felt good to be at eye level with another woman. "You have a performer's eye, Tanushree. I can tell." She canted her head to one side. "Are you a dancer?"

I paused for a second, wondering what kind of dancer she meant, and decided it didn't matter. "Yes. I am."

"She's one of us, Blanche," Rhonda whispered. "We're all former dancers."

Their friendship and their openness pulled me in closer. The bond I felt with these women was different than how I felt at the ballet studio. Here, Blanche made me feel like I already belonged. At City Ballet, I had to fight sobhard just to keep lacing up my slippers each night.

Blanche squeezed my shoulder. "And your friend with Ms. Mitchell and Maverick, are you not? The talent agent and the stripper who were all over the internet."

As much as Maren and West were more to me than just talent agent and stripper, I nodded. "Yes. I am. Best friends, in fact."

"Then you must know some choreographers or have a connection in the dance world," Blanche said frankly. "As you can tell, we are in desperate need." Her smile faded. "Even if my grandson thinks otherwise."

Romeo didn't want anything about the club to change, yet his grandmother did. Interesting.

"Make sure you let them know I'm willing to pay," Blanche continued. "This is my last chance to restore my Boudoir to its former glory and pass down a successful business to my grandson. I don't want him to inherit a charming shithole, as you say. He deserves much more. So much more."

Blanche's eyes went misty, and Flo handed her a lit cigarette. My heart practically melted. It was so sweet that she wanted to make the club successful for her grandson. It made me wonder why Romeo wasn't open to changes.