Free Plata by Ivy Mason Page B

actually dressed up for once, wearing a button up shirt and a navy sports coat over his jeans. Just the sight of him made her nerves unravel.
    “Just go sit with them for an hour,” the waiter said in a kindly voice. “Then you can go home with a decent bundle in your purse.”
    Madison looked over at the group of rough necks slouching in the armchairs wearing jeans and boots. Ramon sat forward on the edge of the couch leaning on his knees, just as he’d done that first night. His eyes flicked restlessly around the club, and she knew that he was looking for her.
    “I don’t know,” Madison said quietly. “Those guys scare me.”
    The waiter shrugged as if this were a given. “Nothing in life is free, nena.”
    Madison knew he was right. All it would take was an hour or so of sitting quietly, drinking champagne, and listening to the men’s tough talk about sports cars, rodeo, and soccer. Maybe making a little money would make her feel better. She nodded and sighed.
    “Okay,” she consented. “Come and get me when they’ve stopped talking shop.”
    The waiter gave her a wink and headed across the club to the kitchen on the other side. Just an hour, Madison told herself. I’ll sit with them an hour and then I’m going home early. She was tempted to call Pierre, but she no longer had a phone. And they never let anyone make calls from the club. Not even clients.
    A half hour passed before the waiter returned, beckoning her over to Ramon’s table with an eager grin. Madison nodded and tipped back what was left in her glass. She let the waiter lead her by the arm to where Ramon was sitting with a beer, his eyes full of crazy intensity.
    “I thought you weren’t going to show up tonight,” he said quickly, looking everywhere but at Madison.
    She forced a smile and tried to act as if the night before had never even happened. “I got a late start.”
    He shrugged and put a hand on her back.
    “What are you drinking? Are you hungry? Do you want the lobster again?” He flagged down the closest passing waiter, who scurried over nervously. “Whatever she wants. Anything.”
    Madison ordered a glass of champagne and a cheese plate with warm almonds. Ramon ordered another beer.
    “So, what’s up?” he asked her impatiently. “Why the long fucking face?”
    For a moment her smile faltered. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    Ramon rolled his eyes. “What I mean is this,” he said. He pressed his thick thumb against the frown crease between her eyes, as if to force it smooth. “It’s not the most attractive look in the world.”
    That was it. She couldn’t fake it anymore. She let herself collapse back into the couch cushion and closed her eyes. It didn’t matter anymore. She’d already lost the game.
    “What’s wrong is everything,” she sighed without opening her eyes.
    “What the hell does that mean?” Ramon glanced around the dining room and lounge, as if looking for the culprit.
    Madison opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, which glowed with a dim, golden light, as if they were in church. She didn’t care if she’d regret it. It had to be said.
    “I need money,” she blurted out. “A lot of money. And fast.”
    Ramon rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “A woman like you with money problems. Give me fucking break.”
    Madison’s champagne arrived. As the waiter placed it daintily on the coffee table before her, Ramon grabbed his wrist. The waiter startled and nearly knocked over the flute.
    “Just bring the bottle,” he barked. The waiter hurried away again.
    Madison shook her head. “You don’t have to be such a jerk to him,” she said.
    Ramon laughed. “Who are you, Mother Teresa? It’s his fucking job!”
    She picked up her glass and took a long drink. The bubbles tickled her nose, and left her lightheaded. She watched The Colombian cozy up to a skinny young brunette who had only just arrived at the club from Spain. He nuzzled her shoulder with his wide,