Chapter 16

Vanessa, Dominic, and Evan filed an exceptionally positive report, giving the club, its staff, and its patrons the highest praise they had ever documented.

The owner of the fund read over the report while sitting in the conference room. He read through the report three times, still having trouble believing what he was reading.

He set the report aside, and focused his attention on Vanessa. “Ms Moreau, or should I call you Reba?”

“No sir, no need to use that name here sir. Vanessaa is fine, sir.”

“I know that rule 8 is active and perfectly legal, but, please, let’s not go stripping here in the office please, if you don’t mind.” Grant Lockwood said, standing up from the table pen in hand. Vanessa and the others stood up with him and then watched him sign the proposal approving the contract that had been drawn up.

Vanessa, Evan and Dominic all shook Mr. Lockwood’s hand as he left them and moved onto the next meeting.

Vanessa and Dominic exchanged high-fives with each other and with Evan. They then got their papers and left the conference room. They needed to meet with Frank and his team in order to get their signatures on the contracts.

Frank had been approached by two other organizations after they read through his request and his prospectus for expansion.

Both companies had arrived at his club at the same time and were all standing in his office arguing when Vanessa and Mr. Lockwood showed up and entered his office.

Frank leaned back in his chair, watching as the two corporate sharks circled each other, their voices rising with each counteroffer.

“Thirty percent,” the first man—Harris, from Titan Equity—announced, his voice slick with confidence. “Full backing, aggressive expansion, five new locations in the next three years.”

“Too high,” snapped Caldwell from Nova Capital. “Twenty-five percent, and we control branding and marketing. Your dancers get more exposure; you get international reach.”

Frank barely lifted a brow, swirling the Coke in his glass. His silence made them nervous.

Vanessa, leaning against the far wall, finally stepped forward. “Fifteen percent. A seat on the board for Mr. Lockwood. You stay in full control. We work with you, not over you.”

The room went still.

Harris scoffed. “Fifteen? Are you joking? You think you can undercut us with—what? A smile and a handshake?”

Vanessa held his glare. “I think Frank knows his business better than you do.”

Caldwell threw up his hands. “This is absurd. Frank, we’re offering you a real future, not some half-baked—”

Frank held up a hand.

Silence fell.

He stood, gaze leveling first at Harris, then Caldwell. Then, he turned to Vanessa. “You danced with Rain the other night,” Frank said, a slow smirk forming. “I remember.”

Vanessa didn’t flinch. “I wanted to understand the business. You can run numbers all day, but if you don’t know what happens on that stage, you don’t know anything.”

Frank nodded. Then, he looked back at the other two men.

“Fellas, you’ve been real loud today.” He placed his hands on his desk, leaning forward slightly. “But Vanessa’s right. This is my business. And I don’t need a suit telling me how to run it.”

Harris started to protest, but Frank cut him off with a flick of his wrist. “Door’s that way.”

Caldwell shook his head in disgust. “You’re making a mistake.”

Frank only grinned. “That’s my mistake to make, isn’t it?”

As the two firms stormed out, Lockwood stepped forward, extending a hand. “A pleasure to be in business with you, Frank.”

Frank took it, sealing the deal.

Mr Lockwood, Jack and Vanessa moved to the dance floor so that Vanessa could show Mr. Lockwood what she saw and what could be possible with the right financing.

“That wall is connected to the building next door. It could be opened up giving us two more stages as well as another dozen private dancing booths. Then, we expand across town with another club location offering the same excellent service and beautiful dancers doubling our income with only a slight increase in expenses.” She explained while walking around the room, pointing to other things that could be upgraded, changed and improved.

Mr. Lockwood, dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit and tie, strolled along the club’s corridors, listening intently as Vanessa detailed plans for expansion and upgrades. When she mentioned adding more private dance booths, he paused, holding up a hand to stop her.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” he asked, his voice measured. He could have consulted his WE for the answer, but engaging in real conversation still felt like the best way to connect with people.

Frank stepped in before Vanessa could respond. “The private dance area is a space where a gentleman and his chosen dancer can have a more exclusive experience,” he explained. “It’s quieter, more intimate—lets them talk without the crowd, and gives him the opportunity to interact with his favorite dancer on a more personal level.”

“How personal?” He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Why? Having doubts about joining me?” Frank asked, standing his ground and confident that his business was good and perfectly proper.

“How personal?” Mr. Lockwood asked a second time.

“The dancers make that decision. They offer the men a personal event that is of their choosing and priced based upon their choosing. I have no control over it and I don’t make them do anything that they don’t want to.” Frank said, starting to see his deal slipping away from him, but still trying to be confident about his business.

“You mean sex, right?”

Frank squared his shoulders and answered, “Yes. The dancers offer sex for money, but not all of them offer it. What they do is not my concern and nothing they do is illegal. Ask your WE if you doubt me.”

Mr. Lockwood stood quietly evaluating this new bit of information.

“How much of the money do you get from these VERY personal private dances?”

“The same as with other dances. 50%.”

“What about the money they get from their stage performances? How much of that do you get?”

“Nothing. That is all tip money and they keep all of that.”

Mr. Lockwood again fell silent, then turned to look at Vanessa. “How much did you make when you danced?”

“I don’t know sir. I was sort of overwhelmed and didn’t think to collect the money. I think Rain did though. If she is here, we could ask her.”