Winning Texas (6 page)

He needed to look good to feel confident. He was lucky to be tall, but he disliked his big-boned structure and squared-off frame. If he gained a few pounds, he looked too much like the meathead bouncers at his clubs. Of course he
’
d started out as a bouncer in his early twenties in Houston, but he
’
d be damned if he ever had to make his living that way again. Growing up poor in the Hill Country was bad enough. He guessed that
’
s why he could never fully embrace the University of Texas, with its deep-pocketed fraternity boys and pointless football rivalries. Dropping out and coming to Houston showed him a career path that was unorthodox but lucrative. He
’
d become a strip club manager in his twenties and bought his first club as he neared thirty. Houston still excited him. Like Las Vegas and a few other places in this country, it was a frontier for those who didn
’
t mind taking chances. He
’
d return to the Hill Country some day when he had enough money. At this point, he wasn
’
t sure how much was enough, but he knew he didn
’
t have it yet.

He looked around, assessing the crowd. Crowd wasn
’
t really the right word, since at 4 p.m., the Westside club had just a handful of customers. Everyone in the large room, including the staff behind the two bars and the woman dancing on the catwalk, knew that he was the club owner. He didn
’
t mind that. He believed that owners should maintain a vigilant, noticeable presence and he liked the way he looked today. He could see himself in the stage mirrors and his brushed-back brown hair with its distinctive widow
’
s peak looked professional. He was wearing a new custom-made, dark-gray suit, with a blue striped shirt and royal blue tie. He always dressed up for these outings, believing that it showed he took his ownership seriously.

Krause tapped into the late-afternoon stock closings on his laptop, checking on the NASDAQ results for Rick
’
s Cabaret International Inc. He
’
d followed a pattern of buying failing clubs and turning them around, always using management techniques he
’
d copied from Rick
’
s, Houston
’
s hometown chain. One of just a few adult businesses traded on U.S. stock exchanges, it routinely drew praise from analysts as one of America
’
s best small companies. Rick
’
s operated about two dozen clubs and restaurants (breastaurants, some analysts leeringly called them) in large cities and had diversified into adult websites.

Damn, the stock had climbed again. Krause believed that his Texas Girls chain eventually could surpass the size of Rick
’
s empire, but growing his adult business empire was just one of several goals right now. He had several secret businesses and a political agenda as well. Luckily, he had a willing partner in both his professional and personal life, his fianc
é
e, Juliana Souza. He expected her to show up soon.

He wondered how much it would cost to update the big room
’
s beige, brown and peach color scheme and change those gold chandeliers to more modern-looking bronze or pewter fixtures. Since this club was located in the business district off Richmond Road, it had to be a little classier than his others. He
’
d inherited, rather than chosen, the d
é
cor, and he noticed that it was outdated. He could visualize how much more sophisticated the room would look in shades of silver and black, with a touch of purple. He made a notation to ask Juliana to work on it, to get some estimates. He regarded himself as the idea person and his fianc
é
e as the implementer.

Besides the main room with the stage and bars, there were a few, more secluded rooms where patrons could pay for a private lap dance. Lap dances were lucrative, though potentially troublesome. Bouncers had to make sure customers didn
’
t get too carried away. Offstage, dancers also mingled with patrons in other ways, sometimes sitting down at tables, making conversation and accepting exorbitantly priced, watered-down drinks. This club also included a boutique out front, where patrons could buy scanty underwear and other flashy clothing for their wives or lovers.

Krause closed his laptop and sat for a moment massaging his forehead, but his solitude was short-lived. Club manager Tessa Rhodes came scurrying to his table. In her mid-forties, Rhodes had honey-colored hair and a pleasant face, but her thickening body had long passed prime time for the strip stage. He
’
d brought her into management ten years earlier and paid her well to keep trouble at bay when he wasn
’
t around. She was more than grateful for the difficult but well-paid position, and constantly anxious that he
’
d change his mind. She was so overeager to please when he was around that it irritated him.

“
I
’
ve got your Riesling cooling on ice, Mr. Krause,
”
she said.
“
Can I bring it over and pour you a glass?
”

“
Bring it over, but I
’
ll wait to drink it when Juliana comes,
”
he said.
“
Who
’
s the new girl on stage?
”

“
That
’
s Carmen Silva,
”
she said.
“
We
’
re trying her out on the mid-afternoon shift. Remember, you said we could bring in a few fill-ins.
”

“
Well, get rid of this one,
”
Krause ordered.
“
She
’
s not good enough for this club. You can see that nobody
’
s paying any attention to her.
”

“
Okay. I
’
ll tell her at the end of her shift.
”

She left quickly and Krause watched the woman on stage perform what would be her last number, writhing a little too athletically to an oldie, Bruce Springsteen
’
s
“
Dancing in the Dark.
”
She had long wavy hair and a pouty red mouth, but those attributes were offset by chunky legs and lead-footed dancing. He thought that her breasts, partially concealed by blue pasties, were no better than average. All in all, she didn
’
t live up to the standards he liked to enforce at his clubs.

Carmen exited the stage without a single tip from the audience, though there were now three tables near the stage populated by small groups of men. The after-work crowd
–
or more accurately, the leaving-work-early slackers
–
was thickening as 5 p.m. approached. The skinny deejay speeded up the music tempo and spoke in a more energetic voice.

“
Give a big Texas Girls welcome to Huuunnnter,
”
he said, drawing out the name in two long syllables as a tall blonde dressed in leopard shorts and a bra top danced down the catwalk. Now that was more like it. Krause smiled as she climbed the pole and shimmied down headfirst, with her twined legs supporting her lithe body. He occasionally worried that some woman would slide all the way down, fall on her fool head and break her neck, though he took comfort in the fact that as independent contractors, the dancers were responsible for their own medical costs.

Hunter was a big hit, capturing all eyes as she bent forward and gyrated her butt toward the audience. He supposed it was her version of twerking, but unlike some skinny pop singers who
’
d tried the move, she had a well-formed butt to shake. A few men stuck dollars into her waistband as the song ended. She was the type Krause liked best
–
young, blonde and very tall. He
’
d often thought of developing a specialty club called Tall Texas Timbers and hiring only dancers who were at least six feet tall and looked as good as Jerry Hall in her prime. That was the big thing these days, developing clubs that catered to different slices of the lubricious population. Rick
’
s Cabaret was cashing in big time with its Onyx Clubs, which, as the company
’
s prospectus said, catered to African American gentlemen. He
’
d thought about how he could do the same.

He toyed with the idea of introducing himself to Hunter and perhaps starting a secret fling with her. He
’
d done that a few times at his clubs in past years, but on the whole, he knew it was a bad idea. It gave a dancer too much power and created problems when other dancers and staffers found out, which they always did. And then there would be hell to pay with Juliana.

“
Hello, darling. Enjoying yourself?
”
He heard a husky drawl behind him and whirled around to face Juliana, his fianc
é
e. Speak of the devil, he thought.

Her mahogany-brown hair was parted in the middle and fell in thick waves past her shoulders. Her peachy complexion was enhanced by expert makeup and she wore a classic brown linen suit with a short skirt, long jacket and high-heeled sandals. He liked the fact that she cared about clothes and staying fit as much as he did. She was beautiful, though it came with a coldblooded approach to life that marred the overall impression. Sometimes she egged him on to more aggressive decisions than he would
’
ve made on his own. Her take on business was more tough-minded than his, but he
’
d had to admit more than once that her approach made more financial sense.

Krause had met Juliana as a teenager visiting his grandparents during summers in Copacabana, Brazil. Juliana was the daughter of their wealthy neighbors, a few years younger and a student at the best international school. She
’
d taught him how to surf and pressed him endlessly for details about life in the States. They
’
d kept up with each other and five years ago, she
’
d fulfilled her lifelong ambition by coming to Texas to live and work with him in his businesses. Her English was impeccable, if a little stilted. She spent much of her time in the Hill Country working with a risky venture he didn
’
t like. He guessed, but wasn
’
t really sure, that he loved her. For sure, he needed her.

He got up, kissed her and motioned to the seat beside him.

“
Some wine, honey?
”
He said.
“
It
’
s your favorite Riesling.
”

They clinked glasses, but he could see from her face that she wasn
’
t feeling festive.

“
How
’
re things at the ranch?
”
he said. He left the operations there in her hands, just overseeing some of the finances.

“
Everything
’
s under control. We
’
ve got more clients than we can handle and the women are doing their part. I
’
m more worried about what
’
s going on here in Houston.
”

“
Aw, come on, Jules,
”
he said.
“
Let
’
s not get into this.
”

“
We
’
re not going to do business with Behar Zogu again,
”
she said.
“
He
’
s an idiot and now we
’
re stuck with a huge problem.
”

“
Hold your horses,
”
he said.
“
We can wait a week or two to make that decision. The business at the ranch is more of a danger than Zogu.
”

“
I don
’
t think so. Somebody
’
s going to get arrested,
”
she warned.
“
And it better not be me.
”

CHAPTER 6

Dan Riggins woke up every morning in Mexico sorry that he was forced to live in a tawdry border town, longing to be home and knowing he could do nothing about it. So he mourned silently, knowing that his beloved Alicia wouldn
’
t understand. But today was different
–
he
’
d cross that border and damn the consequences.