Unable to take it, he reached forward and pressed the red button on the edge of his booth. His signal for service. His signal for her.
******
"Kelvin, why do you keep doing this to me?" Ivy snapped, eyes blazing.
"I am not doing anything. When a millionaire who is a platinum member of this club gives me an instruction, I follow it to the letter." Kelvin shot back, hands splayed dramatically. His belly strained against his too-tight shirt, his tie dangling as if it had given up trying to tame him.
"Well, give him the same answer as the last time," she snapped, tugging her robe tighter around her shoulders. Glitter clung to her collarbone. "This is becoming ridiculous, Kelvin. Who the hell is this millionaire?" She could brave a hundred greedy eyes out there, but the thought of some invisible man obsessively asking her in particular for a dance made her skin crawl.
"You know I cannot give out names. Confidentiality, Beyonce. That's what keeps the platinum rolling in."
