“I can’t stand that guy,” I finally said out loud.

“Who?”

I gestured with my chin toward Jack. “He goes to Stanford. They all do. I’ve seen them on campus. Anyway, he’s a real ass.”

“Yeah, but he’s a paying ass tonight. Just keep ’em liquored up. Drunk customers give the best tips.” Pia winked at me as she added the final drink onto my drink.

I laughed. She was right. I didn’t take this job to make friends. I took it for the money.

“Whoa!” one of the men shouted as he backed up, nearly knocking me over in his excitement. A new dancer had come to the stage and she was entertaining the hell out of the crowd.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I began placing the drinks in front of the different men who’d ordered them, thankful for my sharp memory. “Your food will be out shortly, guys,” I stated, ready to depart, but my wrist was caught in someone’s grip, causing me to turn back to the group.

I came chest to chest with Jack Lassiter.

Without thought, I yanked my wrist free and was ready to tell him to keep his damn hands to himself. But then I remembered I was at work. He wasn’t the first customer to get a little too touchy feely.

“When is it your turn to get on stage?” he questioned, inching closer.

I glanced at the woman on stage who had just removed the tiny top she wore, displaying the flashy, neon pink pasties she wore.

“Never,” I responded, returning my attention to Jack. “I’m not a dancer.”

He moved closer. “What a waste of a body,” he stated, eyeing me up and down.

In that moment, I loathed the skimpy outfit I wore, but didn’t react.

“Your food will be out shortly. Enjoy the show.” I turned and started to walk away when a smack to my ass caused me to jump, startled.

Furious, I turned back to face a smirking Jack.

“An ass like that definitely belongs on stage.” A few of the dumbasses with him laughed as if he’d told the funniest joke in the world.

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

I relaxed slightly when I heard Pia’s voice behind me.

“We were just talking with one of our classmates,” a guy from the back replied.

I didn’t know his name but I recognized him. We’d shared a class freshman or sophomore year.

“Yeah, well, classmate or not, we’re only here for looking, not touching. Hands to yourselves,” Pia added, before taking me by the arm to pull me away from the group.

“That’s a shame,” another douchebag added.

“How much to touch?” Jack questioned, waving his cash in the air.

I made a disgusted face. “You couldn’t afford it!” I seethed while being pulled away by Pia.

“Hey, calm down,” she encouraged, as I continued to stare at the men whose eyes were now trained on the dance on stage.

“What’s got you so upset? You never let customers get to you like that,” Pia noted.