30 Days (Morgan Family Series Book 1)

  Copyright 2016. J.L. Leslie. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, promotions, authorized giveaway or teasers only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Thirty Days (Morgan Family Series: Book One)

  Chapter 1

  Memphis

  I remember the first time I took my clothes off on stage. I was nineteen. The bar in Birmingham was full of men yelling and screaming at me to ‘take it off.’ My hands shook so badly I barely got the clasp on the skimpy top I was wearing unhooked. I don’t even know how I kept my hips gyrating.

  I just kept my focus on the money that was being tossed on the stage. I tried to remember the words Ginger told me, but they weren’t coming to my mind.

  Something about not showing the goods unless they did. I lowered myself towards the men so they could stuff the money into my G-string.

  I made $250 that night. And I never felt so disgusted with myself.

  It got easier after that though. I had my seventeen-year-old little sister to take care of. Our mother was on another binder somewhere and we had no idea where she was. I knew she’d turn up again after she ran out of money or her boyfriend quit supplying her. Whichever happened first.

  My jobs at the Waffle House and Piggly Wiggly weren’t paying enough to make the rent and pay the bills. I did what had to be done. I wouldn’t have to do it for long. Just long enough to pay the bills and get ahead for a while. Then I could start going to the junior college and get me and Anniston out of here. That was three years ago. So much for my plan.

  I climb the steps and walk down the hall to my tiny apartment. I sit the bags of groceries down when I reach my door. I dig around in my purse for my keys until I find them. I look up and down the hall as I pick up the bags and walk inside.

  Anniston and I moved to New York a year ago, but I still haven’t gotten used to living by myself. We were always together. Now she’s at NYU. At least I did something right. She’s living in the dorms and I’m living in an apartment in the city.

  I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve seen our mother in the past three years. She only comes around when she needs something. In the past year since we’ve moved, we haven’t seen her at all. In fact, we didn’t even tell her we were moving. This was Anniston’s decision. She hasn’t been a mother to us in a long time and when she does come around, she bleeds us dry. That or her boyfriend takes the money she owes him from us. Either way, we don’t need that.

  I sit my groceries out on the counter and start putting them away. I leave a frozen pizza out for my dinner. While it’s cooking, my phone rings. I smile when I see it’s Anniston. I’ve missed her.

  “Hey!” I answer.

  “I’m so glad I caught you! I thought you’d be at work already.”

  “I have a couple of hours before I have to go in.” I inform her. “How was school today?”

  “Ugh. These classes are hard. We should move back to Alabama.” she complains and I laugh. I know she can do these classes. I’m not concerned. “They wouldn’t have offered you a scholarship if you didn’t deserve it.”

  “I’m just not doing that well. I barely passed last semester.” she says. “You’ll be fine.”

  “They put me on academic probation, Memphis.” she blurts out. “What? When?”

  “A few weeks ago. I was afraid to tell you. I’m sorry!” “What does that mean exactly?” I ask.

  “If I don’t bring my grades up soon I could lose my scholarship.” she says, quietly. “Please don’t be disappointed.”

  I grip my phone and hold back the yelling I want to do. I know she’s been going out a lot since she got to NYU. I want her to have fun, but I want her to take her studies seriously. I can hear the disappointment in herself in her tone and I don’t want to make it worse.

  “You’ll do better, Anniston. I know you will.” I encourage her. “Are you using the song I sent you?” she changes the subject. “I’m using it tonight. What color do you think I should go with?”

  “Red. Definitely red. It suits the song and it makes your eyes pop.” I agree with her. “How are things with Trevor?”

  “Didn’t work out. He didn’t like my job.” “He met you at your job.”

  “Exactly. I have to get ready for work.” I tell her once more before we hang up that I know she’ll do better with her grades. I pull my pizza out of the oven and munch on it before taking a shower and getting ready to go.

  I take a cab to Ecstasy and head back to the dressing room. Stacy and Leah are already here for their shift. They sit in front of their vanity mirrors getting ready. I did most of my makeup at home, but have some finishing touches to do.

  I got the job at Ecstasy shortly after we moved to New York and it’s a lot better place to work than some of the clubs I’ve worked in the past three years. It’s a high-class club with a lot of high rollers that come through. I make damn good money and it’s enough to help pay for what Anniston’s scholarship doesn’t. Not enough to pay for it all though.

  “Hey, baby.” Stacy coos, doing her best impression of Marilyn Monroe. “Like my new look?”

  I eye her blonde wig and giggle. She winks and kisses her lips at me. “The men will go absolutely wild.” I assure her.

  “That’s what I’m hoping for. I need some new shoes.” She looks down at my black flats. “Looks like you do too.”

  “Nah. These are still good. No holes in the soles of them yet.”

  “Sweetie, when are you gonna give in and get you some action on the side?

  This place is more than just dancing. You know that.”

  I’ve heard this speech from her before. I just can’t do what she does. What some of the other girls do. The money isn’t worth it to me.

  Instead of answering her, I pull my costume off my rack and start changing. She knows not to push me any further about it. She can make her money her way and I’ll make mine my way.

  Cameron

  I lean back against the seat and check my email. The laughter in the limo is loud and distracting. I try to focus on the screen, but my phone is pulled from my hand. My cousin, Rhys, holds it out in front of us and takes a selfie. A fucking selfie. He grins and tells me to loosen up. He shoves the phone back in my hand.

  “It’s my birthday. You are not gonna be on your damn phone all night.” “Fine.” I answer. He shoves a glass of amber liquid in my hand and I toss it

  back.

  “That’s more like it. This club is supposed to be amazing. Beautiful, naked

  women…willing to do whatever I want.”

  “It’s a strip club. They’re getting paid to do what you want.” I tease.

  “I mean, whatever I want.” he repeats, wiggling his eyebrows. “That’s what I heard anyway.”

  Rhys’s attention gets pulled away from me and the ridiculous conversation we’re having. He moves across the seat and does a shot with Weston. At the rate they’re going, they’ll be loaded before we even make it to the club.

  The laughter starts up again and I rub my temple. I’ve been in court all day and really didn’t want to come out tonight. Rhys’s persistent complaints that I never do anything fun is why I’m here. I will at least try to have fun. For Rhys. He looks good and deserves it.

  I slide across the seat and plaster a grin on my face as he holds out his phone, capturing a pic of me, him, and Weston. Stupid selfies.

  “So how are the minors treating you?” I ask Weston.
/>
  He shrugs. “Doing my damndest to get to the majors.” he answers. “I think it might happen for me soon. My mom keeps hounding me about how I should’ve stayed in college instead. I’ve officially been informed that if I don’t make it to a major league team by the end of next year she’s cutting me off. I either have to go back to school or fend for myself. She doesn’t understand that I’m only twenty-three. I have plenty of time for college.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” I tell him, but I’m not really sure what I think about his situation. I know I work at my father’s firm, but I don’t live off him.

  Weston’s mom provides for him a lot. The money he makes from the minors doesn’t pay all his bills.

  “We’re here!” Rhys announces, enthusiastically.

  The driver opens the door and we all exit the limo. The sign for Ecstasy looms in front of me. I doubt it. Probably just some cheap strip club with slutty strippers.

  Rhys should be pleased.

  We walk inside and my first thought is that I was wrong. Everything about the place screams high-class and money. I even recognize a few colleagues seated in the oversized leather chairs surrounding the stage area. Nothing looks cheap or slutty. The dancer onstage is pretty and moves seductively. The money tossed on the stage is twenties and hundreds. Not ones.

  The hostess seats us at a table right beside the stage. I’m sure the birthday boy made sure of that. I go ahead and order us a bottle of Patron. We watch as the dancer retrieves her money and exits the stage. A few minutes later, I see her on the floor and another dancer enters the stage. I watch the first dancer leave with a man and enter a room towards the back. A sign above the door says “Private.”

  “I’m going to that room.” Rhys announces. “It’s for private dances.”

  Apparently, he’s done his research on the place. He’s acting like a giddy schoolboy, not someone turning twenty-four. His excitement is funny though. I can’t remember ever being so excited about anything in my life.

  Rhys tosses some money on the stage and a grin spreads across his face when the dancer comes near him. The stage has a pole in the middle of it, but also has two poles on each side of the stage. She spins around the one closest to us and then lowers herself to the floor near our table. Rhys tosses her some more money. I stifle a grin.

  “I’m going back there with her.” he states, confidently.

  I toss back a shot of Patron as the next dancer walks out. The music starts and I recognize it as my sister’s ringtone. The dancer’s red hair falls in waves down her back as she struts onto the stage. I swallow as she slides her hand down the pole. My mouth suddenly feels dry. She grips the pole and does a slow spin around it. This causes her breasts to heave in the tight corset top she’s wearing.

  I take another shot when she starts unbuttoning the corset. Slowly. She drops to her knees when she reaches the last few buttons. The song plays on. Somethin’ ‘bout you makes me feel like a dangerous woman. She flings the corset to the back of the stage, revealing a black lace bra. She cups her breasts and writhes to the beat of the music. My cock throbs. Fuck.

  She stands and makes her way to the opposite side of the stage. Damn. I watch her from our side as she flicks the clasp on her bra and pulls the straps off her shoulders. Each and every move she makes is seductive and sultry. She teases the customers until they throw more money on the stage and then she reveals what they want to see. I anxiously wait for her to come to our side. I need to see her.

  When she does turn our way, I see perfect, ample breasts. Her tight nipples make me have to adjust myself. No one seems to notice. She drops to all fours and crawls towards us. Her body always on beat with the music. Rhys and Weston both toss money onto the stage. Her eyes never waiver from the audience, but I know she must know she’s earning a lot.

  My gaze is focused on her face. Her lips. The curve of her cheek. I look back to her eyes and she’s looking at me. Even in the dimness of the club, I can see her eyes are a bright green. They’re stunning.

  She stops dancing for a split-second and then carries on with her routine. She stands and grips the pole. She suspends herself upside down on the pole and gazes down at us. The amount of money tossed on the stage increases. Rhys is slack-jawed as she lowers herself down and starts picking up her money.

  I toss a few hundreds on the stage as she walks by and her eyes lock on mine again. She picks them up and mouths ‘thank you’ before continuing on.

  “You should get a private dance with her.” Rhys comments. I shake my head. “Well, I’m going to find my woman.”

  I watch him get up, tugging Weston with him, and start walking around the room. I stay in my chair and just wait for the next dancer. I won’t tempt myself with

  a private dance with her. She was much too tempting on stage. I can’t imagine trying to control myself if I were alone in a room with her. Her song was right.

  She’s a dangerous woman.

  Chapter 2

  Memphis

  “How’d you do tonight?” Leah asks, counting her money. She looks like she’s done well. I don’t like discussing my earnings with the other girls. They never mind telling each other their exact earnings. I just like to keep my business private.

  “I did well.” I answer, vaguely. I’ll count my money when I get home.

  “I made $1,200 tonight. It was a good night. You get any private dances?” she asks.

  “A few.”

  She looks around the room until only me and a few girls are left. Ones

  I know she doesn’t mind talking in front of. “I set up a date with a birthday boy. He was very eager. Rich too.”

  “I’m happy for you.” I reply, dryly.

  I pull the red wig off and run my fingers through my hair. I change back into my jeans and pull my shirt over my head. After I slip my shoes on, I tell them goodnight and slip out the back door.

  When I get to my apartment, I sit on my bed and count my money. I made

  $1,700 tonight. I can’t complain. I make good money to dance and show my tits to leering strangers. It pays my bills and takes care of my sister. I keep telling myself I won’t do it much longer. I’ll get a real job and I won’t have to take off my clothes for money anymore. Soon.

  The thing is, I’m starting to get numb about it. Hell, I am numb about it. I go on stage, do my dance, and go off stage. I go to the private room and do my private dance for whoever paid for it. I can touch them, but they can’t touch me. The more up close and personal I get with them, the more they pay me.

  Only tonight, for a brief moment, I wasn’t numb. I locked eyes with him and he saw me. It felt like he knew me. I wanted to run off stage and hide. I didn’t do that of course. I’m a professional. I kept dancing. Then he’d tossed out four crisp one- hundred dollar bills like they were chump change. Damn.

  I shed my clothes and step into the shower. While I let the hot water run over me, I let my thoughts briefly wonder about what his name might be. What he does for a living? If he’ll be back?

  I only let myself think about these things for a moment. It doesn’t do any good to think about it any longer. Even if he did come back, it would never work out. Trevor was proof of that. I can never date someone I meet at work.

  I turn the water off and step out. I towel dry my hair and dress in a pair of panties and a t-shirt. I climb into my bed with my hair still damp. It’s after three in the morning. It doesn’t take me long to fall asleep.

  When I get up in the morning, I go for a run. I run three miles before I come back to my apartment. My phone buzzes and Anniston has sent me another song. I remind her that she should be studying. She doesn’t respond.

  I’m a couch potato the rest of the day until it’s time for me to go to work. I walk in the dressing room and Leah is all smiles. I start shuffling through my

  wardrobe rack. I don’t ask about how last night went for her. I know it’s just a matter of time before she tells me.

  “Birthday boy was freaking
amazing!” she gloats. “Five thousand bucks!”

  Five thousand bucks! I don’t comment. Every time I hear these stories I get a little jealous. Sometimes I only make five thousand in a week. Sometimes two weeks. It depends on how good the week is.

  What I made last night is not always typical. Weekends are always better than weeknights, but it’s really hit or miss. I’m not guaranteed to break a thousand on the weeknights. Leah made that just for screwing the guy. One night…and she enjoyed it.

  “His cock was magnificent. It was like he had coke-dick or something. He just kept going and going. Took him forever to bust a nut. Not that I’m complaining. The longer he went, the more I came.” she grins. “I love twenty-four-year-olds.”

  “You’re only twenty-nine.” I tell her. I don’t comment on the whole ‘coke-dick’ comment. Never even heard of that.

  “My experience makes me feel way older.” she explains.

  I know what she means. I don’t feel twenty-two. I feel much older. At twenty- two, I’m supposed to be young and carefree. I was never that.

  Cameron

  It’s late when I get there, but I couldn’t stay away. I had to see her again. Just one more time. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. I just couldn’t keep listening to Rhys brag about how much fun he had and not go back.

  I follow the hostess across the room, scanning it for any sign of her. It’s crowded tonight. She’s not on the stage. A blonde is up there. I keep looking. Where is she?

  I take a seat in the chair the hostess indicates, but my eyes continue to peruse the room. I order a scotch from the waitress when she comes by. I feel myself growing disappointed. Maybe she isn’t working tonight. Maybe I came here for nothing.