Beyond the Velvet Rope. Tiffany Ashley

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СКАЧАТЬ her with air kisses before unhooking the velvet rope that gave entry to a secluded room where only the most exclusive of guests were welcomed. Thandie had purposely arrived just before one o’clock. This was when the crowd was usually in full swing. Tonight was no exception. Neon lights lit the darkened room, and everyone except for herself seemed to be quite drunk.

      Ruark Randall and his group of rowdy friends were among the most obnoxious clients she had ever escorted. Ruark wasn’t necessarily cute, but he had a certain charisma about him that made people watch him. Perceived by the press to be relatively reserved, Thandie was surprised to discover that Ruark was very affectionate when he had been drinking. Right now, he was making a scene by practically humping her. She tolerated him as long as she could before disappearing to look for Craig, the manager.

      As she made her way through the dancing crowd, she told herself that although she was getting paid very well, it simply was not enough to be pawed at by a drunk idiot. It didn’t matter how famous they were, a drunk idiot was still a drunk idiot. She swore if Ruark asked her go home with him again she would punch his perfecty capped teeth out of his mouth

      “Thandie, baby, you did good.” She turned just as Craig Sanders strepped out of the crowd. “The Pussy Cats were spectacular,” he grinned.

      Thandie smiled tightly at the compliment. Craig was referring to the troupe of exotic dancers she’d hired for tonight. She’d arrived just in time to catch the tail end of their performance. She was annoyed to discover they were performing a recycled routine.

      Thandie nodded her head toward the DJ booth. “Who’s spinning tonight?”

      “The Freshman.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “That’s what he calls himself.”

      “That name is pretty lame. Why on earth would he insist on it?”

      Craif shrugged. “At least it’s accurate.” He smirked. “He’s a freshman in school.”

      Thandie looked up at the DJ booth. The boy in question held headphones to his ear, while his hands moved busily, spinning and exchanging records. “He doesn’t look old enough to be in college,” she said under her breath.

      “That’s because he isn’t,” Craig said, amused. “That kid is in high school.”

      The news caught Thandie by surprise, making her blink several times. “He’s a freshman in high school?” She lowered her voice. “What is he doing in here, Craig?”

      “Hey, that kid has been working in clubs since he was in middle school. He’s one of the top underground DJs. He’s a pretty big deal. I actually had to get on a waiting list to hire him. Never mind the fee I’m paying. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve paid more, but those jerks were twice his age.”

      Thandie nodded her head. He might be a kid, but one thing was certain: The Freshman definitely knew his music. His transition from one song to the next was flawless. Club guests showed their appreciation by rushing to the dance floor.

      Pulling her attention away from the excited crowd, Craig pointed toward the VIP room where Ruark Randall and his boisterous cronies were tossing girls over their shoulders and spinning around in circles. “Do you think he’d take a picture with me for the website?”

      Thandie rolled her eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re a fan.”

      Craig looked sheepish. “I watch the show from time to time. I can’t be at work all the time.”

      “The show comes on in the evening while you’re at the club.”

      “I record it.”

      Thandie shook her head in disbelief.

      “Len tells me you’re trying to close the door.”

      He nodded. “Our capacity is borderline. I can’t have the fire marshal on my ass.”

      “Just let Len pass through twenty more people.”

      “Twenty people? Are you kidding me? Thanks to that group you just brought in, I’m likely over capacity now.”

      “Allow my guests entrance when they arrive. Trust me, Craig, their presence will ensure the club gets a mention in The Post.”

      “Okay, okay,” he said with a groan. “Len can let them in, and then the door closes.”

      “You’re wonderful, Craig.”

      “Yeah, yeah.” His eyes suddenly brightened with interest. “Hey didn’t you go to the Marc Jacobs party last night?”

      Thandie stiffened. “Yes, why?”

      “I heard it got pretty wild. Did you see anything?”

      “No,” she said immediately. “Nothing out of the norm.”

      Craig shrugged. “Figures. I finally score an invite, and I can’t go because I’m working.” His beady eyes scanned her body. “You know, Thandie, you should really consider being my woman.”

      She folded her arms across her chest, and gave him her best no-nonsense expression.

      “I was just kidding,” he weakly.

      * * *

      Thandie placed a hand on her hip and said, “If you want a picture with Ruark, let’s get it over with. I want to wash my hands of him as soon as possible.”

      “That doesn’t sound like a team player to me.”

      “Get the camera, Craig.”

      They made their way back to the VIP area, where Ruarke was making a scene popping the cork off a bottle of champagne. After easing their way through a throng of curious onlookers, Thandie quickly made introductions. Ruarke smiled pleasantly, but when Craig asked for a picture, the actor tossed his head back and laughed.

      “Dude, I’m not taking pictures with another guy. I’m not gay.” He pulled Thandie to his side. “I’ll take a picture with Tammie here instead.”

      Craig’s disappointment was evident, but he eagerly agreed to take the photo. Just as Thandie had expected, Ruark used the photo opportunity to hold her unnecessarily close, even going as far as to kiss her on the mouth on one of the takes.

      It was going to be a very long night.

      * * *

      By the time Thandie got home, she felt as though she had been mauled. It was four o’clock in the morning when she unlocked the door to her loft apartment door. The lower level of her home doubled as her office, and the upper served as her personal living quarters.

      She had come a long way in her career. Before starting her own firm, she’d worked five years with Gage Ali. Gage was the director of public relations for one of New York’s top fashion houses.

      The years assisting Gage had been the most informative of her life. She’d met more celebrities than she ever dreamed possible and established many business contacts. Although demanding at times, Gage had been a thorough instructor. СКАЧАТЬ