Read Chapter 1 of My Second Chance Secret Baby…

99�� FAN PRICING UNTIL FEBRUARY 3RD AT MIDNIGHT Chapter One Delaney

���Shoot,��� I growled into the depths of my makeup bag. It was one of my favorites, an old tried and true zip-up bag with a stiff lid and a zipper that had broken several dozen times over. I had every reason to throw away the bag. It used to be pink and now it was more of a ruddy rose color and the zipper tab was long gone, and in its place, I used a paperclip, but I couldn���t bring myself to replace it. All of my products fit perfectly and were easy to find when I was in a rush���like tonight.

And since everything was so easy to find, I knew for certain that I���d forgotten my red lipstick at home.

���Shoot.���

How could I make such a rookie mistake? I couldn���t start my set decked out in my fishnet stockings, sparkly black bodysuit, sky-high heels, vampy makeup, and no lipstick. My lips were the same shade as my skin. That simply wouldn���t do. In a club like this, a girl had to make every effort to stand out if she wanted to make money, and I most definitely wanted to make money.

I���d worked here at the club for the past eight months. Prior to coming here to be a dancer, I���d worked at another club in my hometown, Spring Valley, Nevada. Mom and Dad hadn���t been impressed to find out how I was affording car insurance or baby formula, but I was, and that was what mattered to me. After moving out here to Las Vegas, my income tripled. The clientele had more money, plain and simple.

But I needed lipstick.

I looked up from my makeup bag and glanced around the green room. It wasn���t green, but that was what the girls called it because most of us came from dance or theater backgrounds where ���green rooms��� were located down a hallway backstage. We all had a personal vanity to sit at and do our makeup and hair. Sometimes on busy Saturday nights, we���d have to share. Some girls were more likely to shimmy to one side of their bench and let another girl use their mirror. Others were more likely to tilt their head back while they applied their mascara and let the late-comers fend for themselves.

I was the former, and as I looked around at my fellow dancers, I hoped one would show me mercy and share her lipstick.

I cleared my throat. ���Girls, does anyone have some lipstick I could borrow? Mine must have fallen out of my bag and my set starts in three.���

Nobody said a word.

I liked the money I made here but I resented the attitude of the other dancers. They were only ever looking out for themselves. One girl���s misfortune was another���s girl���s gain. If I forgot my lipstick, that might mean the attention of a customer would fall on someone else, and nobody could deny I had a way of drawing the male gaze unlike any of the other girls during sets.

���Please?��� I pleaded.

Of the fifteen other girls in the green room, only one looked away from her own reflection to cast me a glance full of pity. She rose smoothly from her bench and walked on long, gazelle-like legs toward me. She held out one hand and offered me a tube of dark purple lip stain.

���Here,��� the gazelle said. I couldn���t remember her name. Nobody here really bothered to get to know each other. The turnover was too high and new blood came in nearly every weekend.

It wasn���t the shade I wanted, but beggars couldn���t be choosers, and I was more than desperate.

���Thank you.��� I accepted the lip stain, leaned toward the mirror, and painted it on while the gazelle hovered over my right shoulder and watched my technique.

���The color suits you,��� she said.

It was the first time someone in this place had paid me a compliment.

I glanced at her in the mirror. ���Thank you.���

She held out her hand when I was done. ���This is a dog-eat-dog business, sweetheart,��� she said. ���You need to have backups. Most girls would have left you for the wolves.���

���But you didn���t.���

The gazelle shrugged one elegant shoulder and let her blue gaze fall on my makeup bag. ���I was feeling charitable.���

Oh. So she pitied me. Wonderful.

The gazelle smiled like a lion before walking languidly back to her vanity, where she settled on her bench with grace I could only dream of possessing, and began applying highlighter to her collarbones, shoulders, and the high points of her face.

If I made good money tonight, maybe that was a product worth investing in. It made her skin so glowy and supple looking. I could do with a bit of a glow. Exhaustion was my permanent state since I worked this job and the afternoon shift at a diner a couple of blocks from my apartment, which I shared with my cousin and my daughter, Rosie.

I sighed.

I missed my little girl.

Working two jobs stole too much precious time from us both. I���d have given an arm and a leg not to have to work two jobs to provide for us but being a single mom wasn���t easy. I had my business degree but no relevant work experience. I���d tried for months���years even���to break into a real career but every recruiter turned me down and told me to come back when I had at least two years of experience.

How was I supposed to get experience when nobody was willing to take a chance on me?

With a tired sigh, I packed up the remnants of my makeup and hairstyling tools. I packed them all up in my old beat-up Puma gym bag. A lot of my personal belongings were in need of upgrades. I pretended not to notice the way the other girls looked at my bag and the scuffs on my heels as I shoved the bag under my vanity, got to my feet, fluffed my hair up one more time for good measure, and turned to the door.

It was show time.

When I left the green room, I became her.

Gone was the tired single mother. I replaced her with the power-walking, hip-swaying, eye-fucking gypsy I pretended to be as I strutted down the hallway from the green room to the doors that led to the second floor of the club. The thumping of the rave music grew louder as I approached until I could feel it vibrating in the soles of my shoes. I matched my steps to the beat, braced my hands against the swinging doors, and pushed through like I owned the damn place.

A powerful entry was crucial to a successful evening.

Men���s gazes found me quickly as I walked the long way around to the stairs. There was reason to my madness. Every time I started a shift, I made sure as many people in the club saw me as possible. I���d prick their curiosity with a well-rehearsed smile, a flirty wink, or a gentle touch on the shoulder, and when they found me later dancing under the shimmering lights on my own personal stage, I���d have them right where I wanted them, hook, line, and sinker.

And they would give me their money.

I descended the stairs with a hand hovering an inch above the rail. There were eyes on my back from those on the balcony overhead and eyes on my front from those down on the first floor. They watched me ravenously, like I was a new meat being served on the dinner table, and I soaked in their depravity and pretended it made me stronger.

By the time I reached my platform, I was a changed woman. I climbed the six stairs up the back of the base until I stood above all the patrons of the club. The music changed tempo. The lights shifted.

I started to dance.

My body became one with the music. It had always been this way for me. Dancing never felt like work. To me, it felt like a reprieve. I performed for myself and no one else. I moved for me. Every hip sway, leg extension, hair toss, and stroked thigh was to make me feel more in tune with my body and the music. The men gathered around my platform merely reaped the benefits.

It took less than a minute for cash to show up on my platform.

Men slapped bills down on the stage and beckoned me to bend over and pick them up in front of them, showing them a glance down the front of my bodysuit at my cleavage. I indulged and let them tuck more money between my tits. Anyone who thought poorly of a girl making money like this was seriously out of touch. I had all the control in this situation. Right now, the men gathered around my feet as I danced were my puppets.

And I would pull their strings until they gave me whatever they had in their wallets.

By the time my set ended, my thighs burned and my skin was slick with sweat. My dark curly hair was sticking to the back of my neck and I longed to get the bodysuit off. I���d had a wedgie for almost fifteen straight minutes and it was in serious need of picking.

I left my platform and made for the stairs.

Halfway up them, I found my way blocked by a gentleman in a full black suit, sans the tie. The top two buttons of his shirt were popped open, revealing a freckled chest, and he gave me a somewhat goofy and charming smile under a mop of copper hair.

���Hey,��� he said as he held something out to me that he���d retrieved from his pocket. When I didn���t take it, he flicked it up in front of my eyes, flashing the gold-embossed letters on the front of a matte black business card which read ���The Spire.��� That was the newest casino on the Strip. ���I saw your set. You were incredible out there.���

I didn���t take the card and tucked my hair behind my ears. ���Thank you.���

���Listen, I���m sure you get a lot of people approaching you like this, but I was wondering if you were free tomorrow night to come to an audition? The Spire is opening a new nightclub and I want you on the roster.���

I stepped to the right to go around him. ���I���m sorry, I can���t tomorrow. I dance here.���

I wasn���t in a position to take risks. I needed guaranteed income, and my set tomorrow night provided that. Rosie was too important for me to jeopardize this job on a chance audition. I didn���t make nearly enough money at the diner to make ends meet if my gig here fell through.

���Please?��� His smile remained as he cocked his head to the side and stuck a hand in his pocket. He pulled out two hundred-dollar bills and pressed them into my hand. ���Listen, I���ve been frequenting clubs for two weeks looking for the right talent. My boss is a particular man and he knows what he wants. He also knows what sells. And so do you. If I can get you into that audition, I���ll be in his good books for months.���

I arched an eyebrow. ���I don���t think it���s my responsibility to put you in your boss���s good books.���

He winced. ���True. Does the money help at all?���

I looked down at the two hundred dollars in my hand. I had more than that tucked into various places of my bodysuit from my set. However, a new club in a city like Vegas promised VIP clientele with big money and bigger appetites.

���Can I think about it?��� I asked, handing him back the cash.

���Keep it. You earned it tonight. Hopefully, I���ll see you tomorrow. Eight o���clock. Top floor. You know where it is?���

I smiled. ���Do I know where the nine hundred foot gothic inspired hotel is? Yes, I do.���

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. ���All right. Yes. Good. I hope to see you tomorrow then, uh���?���

���Dee,��� I said. I never gave people my full name when I was inquiring about or discussing dancing jobs. Delaney was the name I wrote on resumes for all my business applications, even the resume I���d brought to the diner six months ago when they hired me. But here, I was Dee.

���Dee,��� he said with a satisfied nod. ���Nice to meet you.���

I shook his hand and brushed past him to continue my way up the stairs and around the balcony. This time, I took the shortest route to the doors and made my way to the green room. Nobody paid me any attention as I settled back down at my vanity and touched up some of my makeup. I had two more sets tonight and plenty to think about.

Maybe it was time for a change.