“Mr. Digs,” I purred, putting the act on again. I placed my hand in his and let my fingers tickle his palm. “My name is Scarlett Hsu. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.” I was gratified to see that Digger hadn’t tired of women and had reacted nicely to my overture by grinning like a buffoon. “This is my colleague, Matthias Reynolds. Would you care to sit down and tell us more about the club? It’s ever so interesting.”
“I would love to.” Digger sat next to me with alacrity, nodding to Mia to bring him a drink.
“Do you have a girl named Kayla working here? I think she works under the name of Circe,” I said, trying not to grimace. The names of these women! Really.
“Yes, what about her?” Nothing but pure guile on his face. I couldn’t tell if I’d shaken him up or not, so I had to push the issue.
“She’s in the hospital, you know,” I lied. I wanted to see what he knew, and I watched his face closely.
“Yes, I heard. So sad, especially after what happened to her boy.” Not a flicker of guilt in his tone or his eyes. Either he knew nothing or he was a consummate liar. I leaned towards the latter, though I had no reason for saying that.
“Would she still have a job if she came back? She’s a friend of mine, and I know she needs the money.” I leaned forward slightly, allowing Digger to look down my dress. I noticed that he was developing quite the lump in his pants, which was exactly what I was hoping to achieve.
“Honey, it’s a hard world, this world,” Digger began, staring for all he was worth. “I would hate to see that poor gal lose her job, but, well, I need to fill her slot.” That was more a non-answer than an answer, but I let it slide. “You ever do any dancing? I bet you’d be good. I could give you an interview.” Digger slid closer, his arm creeping around my waist. I was glad we were sitting as his arm went over the steel bars of the backing of the chair.
“You don’t want me,” I said, the slightest edge noticeable in my laugh. “I’m way too old to be a dancer.”
“You can’t be more than twenty-five,” Digger insisted, his hand somehow finding its way to my thigh/buttock. He gave me a gentle squeeze which I tolerated in the interest of finding information. Matt tensed, though he didn’t move a muscle. I gave him a look which signified that he should just chill. He made an attempt to calm down, but I knew it cost him a great deal. I may not be his woman, but I was with him. Proprietary habits died hard.