Gastown Girls

HANNAH

“You don’t understand,” I pleaded. “I can’t stay on this boat. I have to get home to my sister. She needs me.”

“You can’t enter the United States without being vaccinated.”

“I am vaccinated!”

“The USA does not recognize mixed vaccines at this time.”

I stared at the customs agent, my chin trembling as I lost the battle with my tear ducts. What was I supposed to do? Swim back to Vancouver? I couldn’t stay on Reefer’s yacht. He saw me naked!

He cut through the crowd, stopping to talk to his manager and the customs bitch. I stared at the floor, praying he would disappear and leave me with one of his minions.

Just when I thought my night couldn’t get any worse, I overheard the agent tell Reefer he couldn’t leave his boat either. Apparently, he was in the same quandary as me.

No!

He was coming toward me.

Oh, God!

“I’m told you’ll be spending the night,” he said gruffly, stopping in front of me.

I slowly lifted my head and felt beads of sweat break out all over my body when our eyes met for the second time that night. At least I had my clothes on this time.

“I won’t bother you,” I said, my voice trembling. “If you’ll kindly show me where I can sleep, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Give me five minutes to speak with my manager, then I’ll escort you to your room.”

“Thank you.”

I pulled out my phone, firing off a text to Alexis.

Alexis worked eight to four, and I worked six to ten, which meant one of us was always home with Cleo.

I’d been off work for a year during the pandemic, but now I was back dancing six nights a week, and my sister was having trouble adjusting to the new routine. Cleo didn’t handle change very well.

I released a frustrated sigh at the line of eye roll emojis. Alexis rarely came through when I needed her.

She usually slept until noon if she didn’t have to work, while Cleo got up at seven every day.

She required supervision when she was in the shower, and she wouldn’t eat breakfast until she was showered and dressed.

If she ate cereal, she could probably manage that on her own. But Cleo ate a poached egg with toast every morning. No matter how tight money was, I always made sure there were eggs in the fridge.

I shook my head when she sent me a middle finger emoji. Reefer glanced over at me, gesturing for me to follow him. I tucked my phone in my backpack, my knees shaking as I walked toward him.

“You’re pretty shy for a chick who takes her clothes off for a living,” he observed.

I stared straight ahead, my bottom lip taking a beating from my teeth as I followed him into the mirrored elevator. His earthy cologne filled the small space, overwhelming my senses.

How tall was he?

I cowered in the corner, feeling like a kid under a Sitka spruce tree. Without heels, I was barely five-foot-five. Reefer was well over six feet.

He looked different up close. More human. When he was performing, he always looked like he had makeup on.

In the bright light of the elevator, I could see the tiny wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His black hair was spiky, sticking up all over his head as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

He was clean-shaven except for his sideburns and a little patch of hair under his bottom lip.

His teeth were startlingly perfect. Too white and too straight to be real.

He had silver hoops in his right ear.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he barked, hitting the button for the lowest deck.

Was I sleeping in the bottom of the boat?

“Ideas about what?” I asked.

“Sleeping with me.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Maines, that is the furthest thing from my mind.”

“Sure,” he muttered. “That’s why you were staring at me like a starved animal.”

“I did no such thing.”

The doors slid open. I followed him past some mechanical rooms. He turned down another hallway, past a small kitchen and bathroom, before we stopped in front of a closed door.

“You can sleep in here,” he said, pushing open the door. He flicked on the light switch, revealing a small room with a twin bed and a chair in the corner. The only window was a tiny porthole.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Is there some kind of problem with your accommodations, Miss Taylor?”

“No.”

“I hope not,” he grumbled. “Bathroom is down the hall. If you have any thoughts about sneaking into my room and seducing me, forget it. I don’t fuck whores.

“And we won’t be alone. I have a bodyguard who will remain on board. My manager is arranging for a security detail on the dock.

“Don’t even think about trying to rob me, or take photos you can sell to the paparazzi.”

“Excuse me?” I gasped, pride igniting anger in my gut.

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he said, turning to walk away.

“You’re an arrogant bastard,” I spat.

He chuckled, glancing over his shoulder with a smug smirk. “I’ve earned the right. Sweet dreams, Thumper.”

I clenched my fists, my nostrils flaring as I watched him walk away, leaving me alone in the bottom of his boat like some kind of prisoner or servant.

What a miserable asshole. And I couldn’t tell anyone because I’d signed a confidentiality agreement.

I hadn’t planned for a night away. I’d have to sleep in my clothes.

And I didn’t have a toothbrush, which really sucked.

There were probably extra ones somewhere on that ridiculous yacht. But I wasn’t really a guest. Passengers in steerage weren’t worthy of such luxuries.

I crawled into the small bed, surprised to find the mattress more comfortable than mine at home.

I’d never slept on a boat before. I could hear the waves slapping against the hull as the boat swayed gently back and forth.

What would Alexis think if she knew where I was spending the night?

Cleo would freak. And then she would get mad because she didn’t get to come. She was obsessed with Reefer. And very possessive.

It’s hard to explain how my autistic sister’s mind works. Some days I struggle, and I know her better than anyone.

She lives in her own little world most of the time, but something about him brings out a teenage girl with a crush.

I stripped for a famous rock star and his entourage. A shiver of excitement rippled through my belly before settling between my legs.

His eyes were so intense, roaming over my naked body like he wanted to come on stage and take me.

Guys stared at me all the time. I was used to the I-wanna-fuck-you looks. It was part of my job.

But there was something different about Reefer. When he was watching me dance naked, I liked it. I felt sexually aroused. And that never happened.

Stop it, Hannah. You’re acting like Cleo. Fantasizing about a rock star and imagining he likes you. Get a grip.

The guy can have any woman he wants. He has no interest in you. Look where he made you sleep. I think his message was pretty loud and clear.

I giggled at my stupidity. At least I was having an adventure. The other strippers were probably jealous that I got to spend the night on the yacht with Reefer.

I closed my eyes and let the waves rock me to sleep.