Authors: Meghan Quinn
I was about to hang up when the other line picked up.
“Goldie, it’s about time you called.”
It wasn’t the voice that caressed my body in Jackson Square or the voice that was in the blackout booth. It sounded like the first voice I heard that fateful night in Kitten’s Castle, the one with a bit of a rasp to it, the one that said, “I’ve seen things that should never be talked about.”
“Uh, hi,” I sounded like an idiot, but I had no clue who I was talking to. “Wait a minute, how do you know it’s Goldie?” I asked a little defiantly.
There was a low chuckle from the other end of the line.
“Meet me at Café Pontalba at noon.”
“How will I know…?” the line went dead and that was the end of our conversation.
I stood in the middle of my room, butt ass naked as I stared at my phone wondering what the hell just happened. Confusion rolled through my head as I subconsciously moved through my morning routine. I had about an hour to get ready before I had to show up at Café Pontalba.
Was I really going to go? For all I knew, the guy I just talked to could be a psycho killer and was planning on taking me to his psychotic torture room. It was New Orleans where voodoo lingered on every corner; I wouldn’t be surprised if the guy was a total cannibal freak.
As I brushed my wet hair from the shower I just took, I realized I had no fucking choice at all. I was living in a dump that was way too expensive, I was drowning in debt and my boss was screwing me over in “shared” tips.
There were no options left for me; I had to meet the psycho killer.
I made sure to dress like a librarian, covering up all my girly bits because, for some reason, it made me feel safer, not being so exposed. I clutched my purse as I walked up to Café Pontalba, which was luckily right across from Jackson Square, so if the guy wanted to steal me for his own organ harvesting pleasures, I at least could kick and scream and cause a ruckus.
As I approached the door to the café, I heard a man clear his throat. I turned around to see an Adonis-like man wearing tight fitting jeans, a baby blue T-shirt and a slate grey zip-up hoodie with the hood draped over his head. His hands were in his pockets and one of his feet was propped up against the pole he was leaning against. He was…HOT!
God, what was wrong with me? I was getting all steamed up over a possible psycho killer.
He lifted his head and showed off a nice amount of scruff on his face and his deep blue eyes. Yup, my vagina was applauding me for my decision. Down girl!
“Goldie.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
“Uh, yeah. And you are?”
“Let’s get a table,” he said, as he nodded his head toward the door. He walked in without even giving me a second glance to see I was coming. If I wasn’t so hard up for cash, I would have walked back to my apartment just to show him who was boss, but I needed the money, so I tucked my tail between my legs and walked in behind the stranger.
We were seated at a table in the back against a wall, giving us an optimal amount of privacy. As I looked around, I actually noticed that we were the only people sitting in the area, which was odd because Café Pontalba was always packed, thanks to their infamous Cajun cuisine.
A waiter came over to our table and gave us waters with lemon and then left. There were no menus or silverware on the table. There went my thoughts of scoring a free meal.
“What took you so long to call?” The man asked, as he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed against his chest, observing my every move.
Trying not to fidget under his intense glare, I said, “Why don’t we start off with a little introduction, eh? You know, the old ‘hi my name is…’,” I motioned my hand for him to continue.
“What took you so long to call?” he asked again, ignoring my impromptu idea of having an actual normal conversation.
Blowing out a frustrated breath I said, “Sorry I didn’t jump at the chance to call number from a stranger who contacted me three times while following me around the fucking French Quarter.”
It was as if his face was cemented in stone; he had absolutely no facial expressions. “Why did you end up calling?”
“Because I am a masochist, apparently.” I got up from the table and said, “This isn’t working out. Thanks for the…water.”
I started to walk away when he said, “Your tens of thousands of dollars in debt aren’t going to just disappear, Goldie.”
I swung around in shock as he played with the straw that was in his water and eyed my next move.
Quickly sitting down in my once-abandoned chair, I said as quietly as possible, “Where did you get that information? That is a violation of privacy.”
“Do you want out of the hole you’re in now, Goldie? Do you want to feel safe, taken care of, and debt free?”
“No, I want to live in the gutter while being fucked in the ass by Bourbon’s hobos,” I said sarcastically.
The corner of the man’s mouth tugged to the side from my comment.
“That mouth is going to get you in trouble.”
“Oh, is that right? Well frankly, I don’t give a fuck.” I leaned closer and said, “Stop bullshitting me; just tell me what the hell a Jett Girl is and what it entails.”
“Fair enough.” The man leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his water and eyed me up and down before he continued.
“Have you heard of the Lafayette Club?”
“Only what my friend Lyla told me and it was practically nothing.”
The man nodded. “It’s a high class gentlemen’s club where very important men go to conduct business. The Jett Girls are the in-house entertainment ranging from still art and choreographed dances to serving. The girls are never touched, they are never completely naked and their personas are entirely anonymous. They all go by aliases and wear wigs and masks during their presentations, so if they were ever seen on the streets of New Orleans, you would never know they were a Jett Girl.”
“Okay…” I dragged on skeptically, not telling the dangerous man the whole scene seemed a little….freeeekay!
“All Jett Girls are required to live in the club and earn an education, which is fully paid for, so when they are ready to move on, they have something to move on to. All debt a Jett Girl has accumulated before she signs on is immediately erased the minute you cross the lines into the club. You are completely taken care of when you are a Jett Girl, food, clothes, housing, etc. Every Jett girl gets the feeling of being safe and sound while living in the Lafayette Club.”
I watched the man skeptically as he told me all the great things about being a Jett Girl. It was all too good to be true and a little strange.
“What’s the catch?” I called him out; there had to be a catch.
He leaned back in his chair again and said, “If you’re a Jett Girl, you’re required to keep yourself for Jett and Jett alone. Outside relationships are not permitted and you must submit to Jett.”
“Yes, submit your body to him.”
A sharp laugh escaped my mouth as I considered what the man was saying.
“Man, this Jett guy must be one ugly fuck if he has to spend thousands of dollars ‘saving’ women just to get a little ass. Doesn’t he know there are willing prostitutes on every corner that would only charge him a hundred dollars to suck his dick off?”
The man just stared at me. Wow, tough crowd.
“Well, that’s a nice little, uh, establishment you’ve got going on there, but I have to say…not interested.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Goldie. You and I both know you don’t have a choice in the matter.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I do have a choice. I have a little more self-respect then whoring myself out at some creepy man’s brothel so I don’t have to live sad paycheck to sad paycheck.”
“Is that why you get paid for sex by Rex Titan?”
I was pretty sure the man just sucker punched me because I was gasping for air trying to figure out how the hell the man knew about Rex.
I pointed at him and said, “You’re a sick fuck, you know that? Get another hobby and stop stalking innocent girls. Fucking creep.”
I got up from my seat and grabbed my purse. The stupid asshat could find another girl. I was over it.
“The offer stands until midnight, Goldie.”
I turned around and looked him in the eyes as I said, “You can take your offer and shove it up your dick hole. See ya, psycho.”
“Turn Down For What”
Kace had yet to call me about his meeting with Goldie. I didn’t know what was taking so long. It should have been an easy transaction. He should have called me ten minutes ago to give me the go ahead to cut all her ties with Kitten’s Castle, take control over her bank account and get her moved into the club as soon as possible, but instead, I waited in my office, looking out the window at the tops of the trees that lined the street.
Goldie’s room was ready, her lingerie was designed and sitting on her bed, waiting for her arrival and the other girls had been informed. I just needed her to agree to come on board.
There was a light knock at my office door. The only person it could be would be was Kace because the girls were not allowed on the third floor, unless invited to the Bourbon Room.
“Come in,” I said without turning my chair.
I heard Kace approach and sit in the chair across from my desk.
“Well?” I asked.
“She told me to stick my offer up my dick hole.”
A small smile spread across my face from the foul-mouthed little one. She was going to be a hellion…that was for sure. I could tell from the first moment I saw her.
I turned slowly in my chair to face Kace, who was not amused. “Why did she say no?”
Kace shrugged his shoulders. “She thinks you’re some kind of psycho creep who needs to pay off women to get some ass, as she so eloquently put it.” Kace ran his hand through his hair.
“Wow, thanks for painting me like a giant douche. What did you tell her?”
“I gave her the basic spiel, nothing different.”
“Did you tell her about the education she’ll earn and how I will take care of her debt? Did you mention that this is to better her life?”
“Yeah, but I think she’s damaged, you know? She doesn’t really trust anyone and why should she trust us? She doesn’t know what we do here. She thinks it’s some kind of horny man brothel.”
“Damn it, Kace. What the fuck did you tell her? It seems to me like you made the Lafayette Club sound like it’s worse than Kitten’s Castle.”
“Dude, it’s not the club that bothered her.”
“It was the submission.”
I sat back in my chair as I observed Kace. For some reason, I had a feeling he didn’t paint me in the best of light to Goldie and I didn’t know why.
“Did you tell her it was forced submission? Because it’s not. The only reason a Jett Girl submits to me is if she wants to be taken care of in the bedroom, if they need to be pleased. The reason I don’t allow outside relationships is because I don’t want their safety to be at risk. These are high powered men who come into the club, if they found out the identity of the girls, they would do pretty much anything to get them into bed, to take advantage of them. I’ve seen it before, obviously not at my club, but I have seen it other places.”
“I fucking know!”
My eyes bored holes through Kace’s smug face. “Then why the hell did you not tell her that?”
“She’s not it for you, man. She’s not Jett Girl material.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“She doesn’t have class like the other girls. She won’t ever submit to you. She’s too strong willed and stubborn to follow the rules around here. She’s trouble.”
“She needs help, Kace. That is why I started this club, to help girls like her who have no choice but to sell their bodies. Girls who are drowning in debt and need a bright light at the end of their dark tunnel…”
“Don’t bullshit me. This is about Rex and Natasha and don’t fucking tell me differently. Since the minute you found out about Rex and Goldie, you’ve made it your mission to make her a Jett Girl.”
Anger started to seep through my veins at Kace’s accusation. He had no clue what he was talking about. He didn’t know about the first time I ever saw Goldie and to hell if I was going to tell him. He didn’t need to know that; he was already overstepping his boundaries.
“I suggest you mind your own fucking business and do as asked. You are way out of line right now. I am a forgiving man, but another outburst like that and you will find your sorry ass out on the streets fighting your own damn fight. Don’t forget what I am doing for you. They are still looking for the guy and I have a good amount of evidence that would convict you.”