Whispers of a Broken Halo by Abbi Glines

“Hi, um, I’m Bryn Wallace. I was told to come to the bar and ask for Saint,” I said, hoping the loud music masked my nerves.

He smirked then and gave a small shake of his head before putting the tall, frosted mug on the counter.

“You found him,” he replied in a deep voice I recognized from the phone call I had made earlier. “Minx, table three,” he said loudly, then looked back at me. “Come this way.”

Keeping my eyes locked on Saint, I followed him as he walked out from behind the counter and then led me toward a red door to the far left behind the bar area. He opened it and stepped back, then waved a hand for me to go inside. I stepped into a large area with black-and-white striped walls and three more doors. All of them red, like the one we had walked through. The floor was a black marble, which must have been expensive.

“This way,” he said and opened the door to the right. “Marley typically handles the hiring, but she’s out on maternity leave. My job is to keep the girls safe, and I handle the money. Marley has never been good with numbers.” He didn’t go sit behind the desk in the middle of the room, but instead stood in front of it and leaned against it, crossing his arms in front of him.

“I’ve never had anyone come for an interview dressed … well, so completely covered. Makes me question what it is you’re hiding. You can’t hide it long. As you saw out there, very little is left hidden. We start girls here as servers. However, it’s a topless bar, and the bottoms you are given to wear cover only what they must.”

I swallowed nervously. I hadn’t considered that I might need to borrow one of Tory’s dresses to wear for this interview. I had chosen my best top—a soft white sweater—and a pair of black jeans.

“If those are real, then you’ll do well here. As you can imagine, the bigger, the better. Depends on what the rest of you looks like. Let’s see it.”

I stood there, staring at him, unsure exactly what “let’s see it” meant. Does he want me to just … strip? Right here in his office? Is this normal? I’d never stripped for anyone.

“Uh, you want me to, uh—” I began but wasn’t sure how to ask this.

“Take off your clothes. Yes. That’s what I want you to do.” He raised one eyebrow and leaned forward. “You are aware you’re applying for a topless server position at a strip club. The most elite one in Alabama with wealthy clientele, but it’s still a strip club.”

I swallowed hard and nodded my head. “Yes, I know. I just … well …” I couldn’t tell him I had never been naked in front of a man before.

The look in his eyes told me that he doubted me. I was losing the job already, and I needed this.

Remembering Cullen’s tears earlier today over milk, I reached for my sweater and pulled it over my head, only just then worrying about my bra. It wasn’t anything sexy or expensive. It was a basic white bra that did the job. My face felt as if it were on fire, and I didn’t look at Saint. I knew I needed to, but I was afraid it would do more harm than good. If he saw the terror in my eyes, then that would be the end of this interview.

I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down to the floor before stepping out of them. My panties were better than my bra. At least, I thought they were. Taking a deep breath, I focused solely on Cullen and being able to pay our bills, then lifted my head to meet Saint’s eyes. He was watching me closely.

“The genuine fear of getting undressed in front of a man is a major issue. Normally, when a female comes in here, asking for a job, she has no problem with stripping down what little clothing she is wearing. Rarely does she have on a bra,” he said. He uncrossed his arms, then sighed.

I wanted to defend myself and say something, but I didn’t think I could manage words just yet. I had never felt so exposed. There was a possibility I was trembling.

“Damn,” he muttered and ran a hand over his jaw. “Look, if my sister, Marley, were here, she would send you home. You’re not what we are looking for in a server—at least, not entirely. However, I’m not Marley. I’m a man, and you”—he waved a hand at me—“that body and that face, along with the naive good-girl persona? You’re gonna be a favorite. The men will love you.”

“I … I got the job then?” I asked, stumbling slightly over my words.

He rolled his head around, making a cracking noise with his neck, then groaned. “Yeah. I think you might. But I have to see the tits, darling. That is the selling feature for the floor job.”

I stared at him a moment, realizing he meant I had to take off my bra. “Oh,” I whispered, knowing he was right.

I had to get used to being topless. I nodded my head and tried to think about something else while I unhooked my bra. Nothing was working though. I couldn’t get myself out of this moment and this room.

When I felt the clasp slip free, I inhaled deeply, then let the bra fall forward as I slipped it off my arms and to the ground.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Yeah, you got the job, but do me a favor. In the next two weeks, get rid of the terrified expression. Marley comes back then, and if she knows I hired a girl who’s scared shitless, she’ll be furious with me. I’m not in the mood to hear her bitch. Ever,” he said.

I nodded, relieved to have gotten the job and equally horrified that I was going to be walking around in a club full of people with nothing covering my breasts.