Damaged Goods

by Nicole Williams

  The past six or eight or however many hours I’d shared with Will had been stolen minutes—my minutes—but this morning was different. I had responsibilities, duties, and my waking minutes weren’t mine. They were lived with others’ wellbeing in mind. Kitty had brought enough strange men into our lives with no explanation as to who they were or what they were doing half naked and chugging milk straight from the bottle. Even though Will wasn’t a stranger and both of my sisters had a level of appreciation and respect for him, I didn’t want them to find us the way we were. When the time was right, I’d tell them—when I knew just what to tell them.

  “Thank you.” Will lifted my face and pressed his mouth into my forehead. He took a slow breath before leaning back. “Last night was the single best night of my life.”

  My heart did that light, fluttery thing again. If I hadn’t been so suddenly afraid of being honest with Will, I would have admitted that last night had been the single best night of my life too. But I was suddenly afraid—or maybe it wasn’t so sudden. Maybe Will was right and I’d been afraid for so long that I’d forgotten how to live. I’d forgotten how I wanted to live.

  I almost sighed when I realized I’d just added another topic to the Liv Bennett Library of Questions. “I know that’s the truth since you reminded me earlier that you never have and never would lie to me.” I let my head fall back to Will’s chest, turned my ear to it, and listened to his heart until I’d memorized its steady beat.

  Everything inside me was begging me to ask him to stay, to hang around for the morning ritual of pancakes and coffee, to hang around for as long as we managed to ride this thing out.

  The other part of me that I was all too familiar with—the scared part I’d let run my life for much too long—was reminding me why I needed to let him go, all of the reasons I needed to let him go right now and for always. Will was a local boy doing the local boy thing. Yes, he might have made me feel like I could fly today, but my experience with men had taught me that tomorrow, or one of the tomorrows in our future, he’d also be the same one to clip those wings and leave me permanently grounded and stranded.

  If I went into any kind of relationship with Will Goods, I wouldn’t go in with my eyes closed. Going in blindly was for naive little girls who believed in true love and happily ever afters. If I went into this, I would go in with eyes wide open and all of my questions answered first.

  My two selves had declared war on each other yet again. If I went with past experience, I knew who would win: the same self who had won every time and was still undefeated. But if I went with the way I was feeling right now—the way that bright, almost hopeful breeze was rushing through me—I would have bet on the underdog to make a comeback.

  “Until next time?” Will whispered, reminding me that this was no time for internal wars. This was the time for good-bye.

  “Until next time.” I nodded against him, taking in a few more heartbeats before peeling myself away from him.

  Will’s footsteps creaked toward the door, and just as it started to whine open, he paused. “I meant what I said last night, Liv. I want you to know that. But I won’t say it again until you decide how you feel about me, okay? I didn’t say it because I wanted to pressure you into anything. I told you because it was the truth and I wanted you to know it. Now that you do, I won’t repeat those words until you decide if you either do or don’t want to hear them again.”

  How did a person reply to something like that? I didn’t know how another person might, but my response was, “I don’t want you to say it until I decide how I feel about you either, Will.” I swallowed. “But thank you. For telling me the truth. For not pressuring me into a decision. Thank you for just . . . being you.”

  Being Will Goods. As far as things to aspire to in life, that was a goal more people could benefit from.

  “And thank you for being you, Liv Bennett.” His first few words were almost sad, but in true Will fashion, he finished his sentence on a hopeful note.

  But as the door closed behind Will, and I was left standing alone in a darkness that seemed to stretch as far as it was thick, I couldn’t determine if all hope had left out that door with him or if he’d managed to leave any behind for me to hold on to.

  THE LAST TWO Friday nights I’d dreaded for several reasons. This one, though, was the first one I wasn’t dreading. No, I was practically looking forward to it.

  After Will had slipped out of the trailer that morning, the sun shone through the windows not even five minutes later. Reese emerged from her shower—her warm shower—with a grin because the power was back on. A movie Reese and Paige had been wanting to see for a while was finally playing that night at the one-screen theatre in town, and when Reese excitedly announced they were going to the Friday night movie, my heart trilled so quickly I was worried I’d levitate. While I’d recognized that yesterday had been Thursday, somewhere along the way with Will, I’d lost the whole concept of time and its relation to me. I’d said good-bye to Will this morning, but I’d see him again tonight.

  I didn’t expect to be anywhere close to figuring out my pile of Q&A homework, but I was looking forward to seeing him. Even if it was inside The Body Shop. He hadn’t mentioned anything about showing up tonight, but I guessed that had more to do with his promise not to mention anything about what had happened between us there. If Will didn’t show up tonight, I’d be concerned for plenty of reasons—the greatest of those being what if I’d offended him by not being able to give him any indication of my feelings for him? I knew that my words might not have expressed the way I felt about Will Goods, but everything else had. I hadn’t come right out and said I wanted Will Goods in my life, but my body couldn’t have expressed it any more.

  The girls managed to link up with a couple friends who were able to pick them up and bring them home from the movie, so I escaped the trailer without firing off one carefully crafted lie after another about where I worked and what I did. The girls had only accepted me being vague about what I did for a week. After that, they pretty much demanded to know where I worked so they could get a hold of me if need be or if, God forbid, I up and disappeared one night, they’d know where to tell the cops to start searching.

  So, I’d told them where I worked: at the janitorial supply company, stocking boxes of supplies for the drivers to deliver to the company’s clients the next morning.

  Yes, I knew that wasn’t even close to a white lie. It was pretty much the summation of a bold-faced one, but in this case, an outright lie was a hundred times better than admitting the truth. If the day came when my sisters found out I was stripping to pay the bills, no amount of excuses or explanations would appease them. I knew that because if I found out the same about them, nothing they could say would make me feel that their career choice was justifiable. We’d been so close to rock bottom that we’d been scraping it when I took the job at The Body Shop, and neither girl would find themselves in that situation again. I was there, and it was my responsibility to keep them from that.

  By the time I’d pedaled my way to The Body Shop, gotten past the Gestapo at the back door, and into the dressing room, I’d actually arrived with enough time to spare that I wouldn’t need to move at warp speed to be floor-ready by nine o’clock. It was a welcome change. So welcome that I let myself hope that that would set the tone for the night.

  The dreaded hope bug . . .

  Give it a chance, Liv. Give hope a try for once in your life. That was my mantra as I wound my hair into rollers and lined, layered, and powdered my face. In between my “give hope a chance” chanting, I let thoughts of Will slip in. Never for long enough that I could work out just what had happened or what was going to happen for us, but enough to be reminded that whatever the foundation below us was made out of, I was thankful we at least had one to stand on.

  The reminders that he’d admitted he loved me, that I’d formed two relationships—one here and one outside—with one man, and that the feelings I had for him were foreign in every way p
ossible worked their way to the front of my mind, but I didn’t give them purchase. Instead, I calmly and carefully put them back where they belonged, for now, and let myself just enjoy that I felt something for Will. I chose not to be so concerned with defining what that something was.

  I was fifteen minutes deep into these thoughts when Cherry sashayed up beside me.

  “Girl,” she said in a knowing voice, winking at me in a knowing way, “you’ve got that look I swore I’d never see on someone like you’s face.”

  I lightly shoved her arm as she slid into her chair and started unloading the contents of her bag. “What look? One of concentration as I attempt to line my eyes? Because, just so you know, you’d better concentrate when you’ve got liquid liner in hand because if you don’t, you’ll either poke your eye out or wind up looking like a strung-out hooker.” I grinned at her. “You ought to know that. Since you were the one who taught me that gem.”

  “Not that look, Strung-Out Hooker.” Cherry waved at my face. “That look. That one that says you’ve got it bad for some guy. That look that says, ‘Slap a ring on me, move me to a pretty little house in some Wisteria Lane suburb, and make me babies. Lots and lots of babies with big blue eyes and doll faces.’”

  If she hadn’t been out of reach, I would have shoved her again. Not so lightly this time. “Did you forget to take your anti-psychotics before showing up tonight?”

  “No. But I’d say you did on the day—or night”—Cherry waggled her brows at me—“you decided to let Prince Charming past your impenetrable walls. And judging from your flushed cheeks, you let him past your just-as-impenetrable chastity belt.”

  I scooted my chair her way until I was close enough to give her that shove. “Oh, go tweeze your cat already.”

  Cherry laughed, teasing her hair into position. “And look what happened to you when you finally did.”

  I loved sitting next to Cherry before every shift. She was fun, vivacious, and plenty of things I wasn’t. She made me smile all the time and laugh in between. I’d learned this whole business in practically a week from sitting beside her, and no one had to remind me how lucky I was to have found a good friend in this business. Tonight, though, I wasn’t so hot on the conversation topic she’d picked. I wasn’t ready or willing to talk about Will, and if Cherry found out he was also a client . . . I didn’t know what she’d do, but I didn’t want to be within arm’s reach. I was almost a hundred-percent certain Cherry would take that whole slap-some-sense-into-you thing literally.

  “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m going to take yet another piece of your advice and hit the floor early. Mark the biggest target out there before you girls get your huge, collagen fish-lips painted.” I finished removing the last rollers from my head before standing and adjusting my outfit. It was V.I.P. night, so in the more-is-more theory Cherry’d imparted on me on my first night, I had on a sapphire bustier and matching lace panties. A pair of thigh-high stockings and my recently-graduated-to ten-inch platforms completed my attire.

  “Sure, avoid the topic, Noelle.” Cherry waved as I headed for the door. “You can only avoid it for so long. Might as well tell me all the juicy, delicious details soon because I’m persistent and you’re too easy to read.”

  I did the mature thing and kept walking, but only after twisting and sticking my tongue out at her. She laughed before sticking hers out too.

  The rest of the girls barely paid me a cursory glance as I passed them. Even Amber, who’d notoriously issued nasty comment after nasty comment every time I was within earshot, ignored me. I’d gone from being the new girl to being just another one of the dancers in a matter of a couple weeks. Either that, or they’d figured out that they could say very little that would actually get a reaction out of me. The game got old.

  Once I was out of the changing room and walking down the hallway, I thought of how different my first walk down that hall had seemed. How much more the echoes of each footstep had jarred me. How each step closer had seemed to take me that much farther from the life I wanted. I realized it had only been two weeks, but it might as well have been an eternity for all that had happened in between, as well as everything I’d been learning about myself along the way.

  My first night, I’d been so certain this was the end of my life, that there was no going back to what had been, but now I saw the error in that kind of thinking. Life wasn’t a maze where, if you took a wrong turn or two, there was a very good chance you’d never make it back to the place you’d been. Life was more like an endless one-lane road. Where you were in life was where you were. There were no wrong turns because life was linear. What was behind me was yesterday and what was in front of me was tomorrow. I could make tomorrow whatever I wanted it to be. Just because I was a stripper tonight didn’t mean that I couldn’t get back to my prior life tomorrow night.

  I didn’t fear the mistakes I made would be permanent, and I focused on the choices awaiting me, because life was a series of choices. A person’s life story could literally be written by the choices they’d made and the consequences that had followed. I couldn’t be certain that I’d be able to put aside my fear of making mistakes, but I knew I wanted to. I wanted to stop living in fear and just live, and knowing that was better than not knowing. I could work on the action part next.

  I’d have been a liar to claim this revelation was something that had cropped up on its own. Will had been an integral, if not pivotal, part of getting me to remove the blindfold I’d been stumbling through life with. Actually, when I thought about a lot of the improvements in myself I’d noticed lately, Will could be traced back to the beginning of them.

  Yeah . . . Will Goods. I actually sighed as I slipped through the door into the darkened hallway off to the side of the main club. Two weeks ago, my knees had been about to buckle out at the thought of men touching my body. I’d been so busy watching out for them that I’d missed the one who had slipped by and touched my heart. A few weeks ago, I’d been numb when I found my long-term boyfriend screwing another woman, and now I was so close to feeling, for the first time ever, that all-consuming emotion I’d managed to avoid at every turn. The mere thought of that four-letter word made me want to jump for joy and break out in hives at the exact same time.

  Talk about a head trip.

  “Noelle! Just the girl I’m looking for.” Jake barged through the beaded curtains looking like a man on a mission. At least, more on a mission than usual.

  “Jake,” I replied, propping a hand on my hip. “Just the guy I’m always looking to avoid.”

  He lifted a brow. “You know I’m your boss, right? The guy who keeps you employed? The person who owns the company you leave every shift at with a roll of cash in your purse?”

  Jake and I getting into some kind of innocent spat was pretty much a nightly occurrence.

  “You know I’m your top-tipped girl, right? The one who tips-out the highest amount of money almost every night? The dancer who keeps your regular customers extra regular?” I flashed him a smile and waited.

  “I’d love to move on to round two with you, but I’m going to be busier than the lone whore in a seaport town tonight.”

  “Yikes,” I mouthed.

  “Two girls called in sick tonight, I’ve got twice the number of V.I.P.s I actually intended on showing, and only half of my booze order made it in.”

  “Wow. You’re screwed.” I nudged Jake’s arm. “Do you need any help?”

  When push came to shove, I was on Jake’s side. He was the best boss I’d ever had, and yeah, I realized admitting the best boss I’d ever had was a strip club owner opened me up to a heap of judgment from the haters.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Jake glanced back into the club and grimaced. “I’m not sure if Will is showing up for his typical Friday night house call with you, but if he does, do you think you could try to convince him to keep it short in there? I tried calling him to see if he could come in a few hours later than normal, but I didn’t get him, which means he
’s either on the way or he’s in bed with some fine chick and not worried about showing up for stripping when he’s getting the whole shebang.”

  Just the thought of Will being with another woman made me bristle. I even knew it wasn’t true, and I was still ready to get out my kitty claws. “Um . . . yeah, sure. I’ll see what I can do if he shows up.” For Jake to request I keep it short with Will—someone I’d guessed he’d give a kidney to without a second thought—Jake must have been in a mega tight spot.

  “Thanks, Noelle. I hate doing this to him, but I don’t have a whole lot of options right now. About the only one left is for me to throw on a wig and some pasties and shake my own ass out there.”

  I laughed, wishing I could bleach that image from my mind permanently. “It’s okay. I think Will will survive.” He’d better. After last night’s marathon, he should be good to go for at least a week.

  Only when Jake lifted another eyebrow did I realize my error. “Will? I know you’re not referring to your client, Mr. Goods, because I know you’re my bright one here and no bright woman hoping to keep her job calls a client—a V.I.P. one at that—by his first name in my club.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek and looked everywhere but at Jake.

  “That was another Will you just casually mentioned, right?”

  “You ever notice how it seems like there’s a Will around every corner these days? I can’t make it from my bike to my nail appointment without running into one.” Yes, it was a weak recovery, and I knew Jake knew I was lying, but as long as I told Jake what he wanted to hear and his point was made, he was usually good with playing along. He knew I’d meant Will Will just like I knew he’d let it slide this time. Next time, I wouldn’t be off the hook so easily.

  Jake shook his head, checked his watch, then checked the club again. Another grimace. “Just when I think you’re turning into not such a rookie. And what did I tell you about that bike being on its last leg? Go take all of that tip money and buy yourself a car already. I mean, shit, if word got out that my top dancer rode an ancient ten-speed to work, the entire stripper community would think I was running a straight-up shady operation.”