Damaged Goods

by Nicole Williams

  I caught myself a half second before mentioning that Will was working on an old Suburban for me. I wasn’t sure what Jake would do if he found out that we were neighbors, but I sure as hell knew what he’d do if he found out what we’d done last night. To Jake, it was simple. There were clients, and there were boyfriends. The two didn’t mix. Ever. The day those lines blurred was the day my ass was tossed out the back door.

  “Well, we wouldn’t want that.” I patted Jake’s shoulder as I passed by him and through the bead curtains. “Don’t worry about Mr. Goods. I’ll talk to him when and if he shows up.”

  “I’ve mentioned I love you, right, Noelle?” he called.

  “Only every night when I tip-out,” I replied before inspecting the club.

  Fridays were most girls’ favorite night to work because they made good money and the clients weren’t drunken, uninhibited frat or frat-like boys. Friday’s were a bit more subdued, more fine red wine than cheap tequila shots. But this Friday felt different. Sure, it was packed to capacity at barely nine o’clock and the dull roar wasn’t so dull, but there was something else. I couldn’t put it into words, but it almost felt like a flash of dejà vu, accompanied by a gut-dropping feeling of fate arriving on your doorstep . . . and not the welcome kind either. The unwelcome knock from the unpopular darker side to fate.

  I got chills that had nothing to do with my lack of clothing. Then, just as quickly as it had come on, that strange mix of feelings vanished so suddenly and completely that I caught myself wondering if I’d felt anything at all.

  . . . Other than the hand sliding around my waist from behind. I spun around to find a familiar face grinning at me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the familiar grinning face I was hoping to see.

  “Hey, sugar tits. You’re not looking so busy tonight. Why don’t you come hang out with me and my friends?”

  It took me a moment to place him, but once I glanced at the couches in the corner staggered with his “friends,” I remembered him. He had been my almost-first customer on my first night. Before Jake had rolled up to inform me I’d be spending a few hours with another man. The one whose hands I wished were on me now instead of the clumsy, clammy ones running all around me.

  Jake’s policy was that we dancers weren’t allowed to turn our noses up at a client and walk away. We weren’t at the club with our girlfriends; we were at work. All customers were treated the same in The Body Shop. That was company policy. However, there was one loophole to the golden stripper rule: intoxication. If the client in question approached us clearly inebriated, we were within our rights to indicate at a bouncer to have him removed before we turned up our noses and walked away.

  This guy, the rapper wannabe, reeked so badly of alcohol he actually burned my nose every time he exhaled. I glanced around the room at the places the bouncers were normally stationed, but every post sat empty. That was probably because they didn’t show up until the dancers did, and I was still a few minutes early. Oh, well. I didn’t need some beefy guy to get me out of a sticky spot. I had more than enough experience in that area.

  “I wasn’t eager to ‘get to know’ you and your friends a couple weeks ago,” I said, shrugging out of his arms when he tried wrapping them around me. “And I’m even less eager tonight.”

  The guy’s face fell a little. “Those are some pretty big words coming from a girl who would do just about anything for five dollars.”

  When my hand twitched at my side, I forced myself to take a few steps back. Jake might have been okay with clients getting walked to the door for being drunk off their asses, but I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about one of his dancers decking a client. But if this guy didn’t back up and leave me alone until I could locate a bouncer, I would have no choice.

  “There are very few things I’d do for five dollars, but there’s one thing I’d gladly do for free.” My eyes narrowed as he closed the space I’d just put between us. He couldn’t even walk a few feet without wavering. “Yank down those pants of yours, which are an inch from falling down themselves, so this entire room can see what a microscopic dick you’re hiding beneath all of the pathetic bravado and gold chains.”

  I didn’t feel even a flash of remorse for saying what I just had. Remorse would imply regret, which I felt none of. Before I could lunge out of his reach, he’d grabbed my arm and started to pull me across the room to where his friends were watching with a mixture of amusement and sheer enjoyment. Super. They were probably just as drunk as the future, if he weren’t already, woman beater. Judging from the force he was using on me and the way he seemed to know what he was doing, I guessed he was already there.

  “You’re coming with me so I can show you just how microscopic my dick is not.”

  “Listen, Mr. I’m Compensating for Something, the only place you’re going is to prison if you don’t let me go now.”

  I wasn’t all that worried. Yet. I was in a public place with hundreds of people around, and I was dealing with a stumbling drunk. I was more concerned with making a big scene and pissing Jake off than what would or wouldn’t happen to me with this loser and his minions.

  “This is your last chance.” I leveled him with a serious glare and tried tugging back against him. It didn’t get me far, though he looked genuinely impressed by the glare. “Let. Me. Go.”

  “Hmmm, let me think about that for a second . . .” He tapped his chin and narrowed his eyes. Then his face cleared, and he gave me a wicked smile. “No. I don’t think so.”

  I was just winding up for a serious side-winder when another familiar face appeared in front of us. This one was the familiar face I’d been looking forward to . . . but he wasn’t grinning. Nowhere close to it.

  “Did you hear what she said?” Will’s voice couldn’t even have been defined as murderous. It went there and beyond.

  “She said a lot, man. But her words aren’t exactly what I’m interested in tonight, if you know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t know what you mean.” Will stepped toward us, stopping the guy in his tracks. “But here’s the thing: You can listen to what she just asked you to do—that’s option A. Option B includes me forcing you to listen to her.” Will popped his neck, and I could almost see his muscles quivering at the ready.

  I fought to get my wrist free, but the guy had a steel grip on me. God, this would have all been so Shakespearean if we hadn’t been in a strip club and the men about to duke it out weren’t a rapper reject and a neighbor-slash-V.I.P.-client.

  Will continued, “In case you’re wondering what my vote is, mine’s for option B. Because there’s nothing more I’d rather do right now than teach you some respect. With my fists.”

  My jaw dropped. I was aware of Will’s strength and that he wouldn’t be the man to bow out of a fight if one was dropped in his lap, but I never thought he’d be the one to initiate a fight. Yet something else I’d been wrong about when it came to Will.

  The guy still leeched to my arm laughed. He didn’t stop for a good thirty seconds. “Dude, shouldn’t you be out applying for your handicap license? Oh hold up, that would mean you could drive, which you can’t, so I guess a gimp license is kind of a slap in the face in your case, right, hero?”

  The skin between my eyes creased. The guy was either drunker than I’d guessed or had mistaken Will for someone else. As far as handicaps went, Will was on the other side of the spectrum.

  Will kept his attention on the guy, his even expression not cracking. “Which option are you taking? A or B?”

  The guy shook his head at Will. “I’m not taking either option. Instead, I’m taking this broad and not heading home until my cheeks are windburned from her flapping those fine tits in my face. Go find yourself another broad. Or come back another night. This is V.I.P. night, not retards night.”

  I was winding up for another punch when Will charged us. Well, he charged the 30-year-old seventh grader, because I broke free of his hold and moved aside. If I already hadn’t had firsthand experience with the power W
ill possessed, I probably would have been surprised by how far he and the other guy flew once he drilled into him. Given Will had one rung below superhero strength, I wasn’t surprised he toppled the guy back a good twenty feet before they both went down . . . but it sure as hell surprised everyone else. Shouts erupted around the room, along with the sound of glass breaking and chairs toppling over.

  When the first crack of Will’s fist driving into the guy’s jaw filled the room, my hands covered my mouth. When the second landed and Will’s face went from enraged to murderous, I looked for the bouncers again. Again, I came up with nothing. Where the hell were those guys when they were actually needed? The guy trapped beneath Will was trying to struggle free, but he wasn’t getting very far. As suspected, the guy was a whole lot of talk and no action. Will on the other hand? He was pretty much the opposite.

  A small crowd gathered around the two men spread out on the floor, but no one was trying to split up the duo. I didn’t mind if Will showed the jackass a lesson or two, but I didn’t want him to cross the line between teaching a lesson and serving a sentence for seriously messing up a guy. I was just pushing my way through the crowd when I noticed a herd of Mr. Losing The Fight’s friends pushing forward with determined looks and fists at the ready.

  My heart hammered as my fear switched from Will getting into trouble for dealing out a beating to getting into actual life-threatening trouble from taking a beating from a half dozen drunk guys. They toppled on top of him all at once, each one going to work on him right away. When I realized the cracking sounds I was hearing now were caused by fists and boots and whatever else colliding with the flesh and bone of the man I cared about, I kicked off my heels and charged into the pile. I realized a second too late that I should have kept the ten-inch stilts to use as weapons.

  I had almost reached the pile of bodies when a pair of arms ringed around me and pulled me back. “What the hell are you doing, Noelle?!” Jake shouted as he kept pulling me back.

  I struggled against him, but he had a serious hold on me, and I didn’t get anywhere. “Will!” I frantically searched for some piece of him sticking out of that pile of human bodies that would indicate he was still alive and in one piece. “Will! Answer me!”

  By the time Jake had pulled me back to the bar, the brigade of bouncers finally charged into the room. It took them a while to cut through the expanding crowd around the fight, but once they’d made it, pulling apart the mess of bodies didn’t even take them thirty seconds. They were good at what they did . . . when they showed up. Face after face pulled from the pile was bloodied or already swelling in certain places. A few faces had both kinds of war wounds showing. By the time the bouncers had worked their way to the bottom of the pile, only two bodies were left—Will’s and that of the jerk who’d started the whole thing.

  From what I could see, it looked like Will could get up on his own, although he didn’t exactly bounce up. His motions were more in line with an old man’s whose whole body ached. The other guy? He needed to use two guys as crutches to get up and move toward the door. I saw Will’s head towering over the crowd, going from side to side frantically, before he spun in place, appearing to look for something.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Noelle!”

  Well, I guess he was looking for someone. I pulled against Jake again but got nowhere. Again. Between running this place and buying expensive watches, Jake must have spent the rest of his waking hours pumping iron in the gym.

  “Jake, let me go,” I warned, struggling against him. “I swear to God . . .”

  “Yeah, not happening,” was his reply.

  “Noelle!” Will shouted again, continuing to scan the room for me.

  I was a ways back, but not that far off, and now that the bouncers were trying to dispense the crowd and show the troublemakers to the door, the space separating us was opening up. Will was obviously too worked up and still riding his adrenaline high, because he missed me every time his gaze shifted in my direction.

  “Will!” I hollered. “Over here!”

  He might not have been able to see me, but he’d definitely heard that. Shrugging off the bouncer’s hand clamped over his shoulder, Will headed straight for us . . . and when I say he headed straight for us, I mean he bumped into and barreled past anyone in his path. When he’d made it halfway to me, he paused for a moment as a look of concentration fell over his face.

  Oh my God. His face. It wasn’t as bad as his opponents, but it wasn’t much better. Those half dozen “friends” had really done a number on him. Seeing his handsome face so mauled and broken made me choke on a sob.

  “God, Will. Are you all right?” I called to him, wondering if any of the gashes marking his face would need stitches. A few certainly did.

  That look of concentration fell as Will powered the rest of the way toward Jake and me. When he was a few steps away, Jake sighed and let go of my arms.

  “I guess you’re out of harm’s way now,” Jake muttered, adjusting his tie. “Until I sit down and talk with you.”

  What Jake said barely registered because Will crashed into me, harder than I’d expected. Before I could stumble back a few steps, his arms wound around me, pulled me into him, and kept me steady.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice so tight it sounded on the verge of breaking.

  I shook my head against his chest. “No. Are you?”

  “If you’re not, I’m not either.” He tucked his chin over my head and held me like he would never let me go.

  “Thank God. I was so worried . . .”

  Will managed to chuckle a few notes, but his whole body went rigid in the process. I guessed he was bluffing about just how much or how little he was injured.

  “It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than some bar fight to take me down,” he said.

  I kept my head buried beneath his chin and slowly smiled when I realized this was our first real conversation inside The Body Shop, the first real words we’d spoken to each other . . . and it was about some bar fight.

  “I hate to break this up, kids, but Will, you’ve got a date with an E.R. doctor.” Jake stepped up beside us and nudged Will before his gaze fell on me. “I’ve got a club to close because, with the amount of broken glass and blood dotting the floor, I should be calling for men in yellow hazmat suits instead of my janitorial team, and you . . .”—Jake’s eyebrow raised a notch higher—“you and me better sit down and have a chat.” His eyes skimmed Will and me or, more accurately, Will’s and my arms around each other.

  “Busted” was the first word that came to mind. The second? Relief. Whatever this meant—losing my job or a serious slap on the wrist or, hell, even charges filed against me—any of it or all of it would have been worth it. Because I finally knew how I felt about Will Goods. Or I’d finally accepted it. It had taken the fear of losing him to realize that I wanted him. I wanted Will in my life for as long as he wanted to be there . . . for as long as we wanted each other. I wasn’t scared of getting my heart broken, nor was I paralyzed by the fear that if I let this local boy into my life that I’d just ordered my imminent demise.

  No, giving myself over to another person was the single most freeing sensation of my life. I wanted Will—win, lose, or draw—and knowing he wanted me too had me changing my views on happy endings. Almost. When Jake cleared his throat in a deliberate way, I reminded myself that now wasn’t the time for awe-inspiring revelations or great professions of my feelings for the man who’d been the first one to show me love, not just profess it.

  “Will, these guys will take you to the E.R. so you can get fixed up, and then they’ll take you home.” Jake nodded at the two behemoth bouncers approaching us. “But I need to get you out of here now. In case the cops show up, I’d prefer to have no one left in the place besides myself and my employees—who I’ll pay generously—to give accounts of what happened here. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” Jake said with an eye roll. “How does that sound
, killer?”

  Will’s arms didn’t loosen any around me.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” I asked him, not caring if Jake needed to talk to me. Whatever he had to say, and I was pretty sure what it would be, could wait a few hours.

  “I’d love you to go with me . . .” He gave me a final squeeze before letting go. “But I think you’ve spent enough time in emergency rooms and hospitals this summer, don’t you?”

  “One more visit will hardly kill me,” I replied. I’d need to first get changed before I could go anywhere though, and based on the way a couple of Will’s gashes were dripping, he needed to get to the E.R. sooner rather than later. The five minutes it took me to change and get back to him were five minutes he didn’t need to be trickling rivers of blood down his face. “But why don’t you go on ahead first? I’ll have that little chat with Jake.”

  I eyed the man inspecting his club with a sullen expression. When his inspection shifted to Will and me, it went even more so.

  “I’ll catch up with you later. I’ll even make you some chicken noodle soup again and nurse you back to health,” I said with just enough insinuation to make Jake’s expression go from sullen to steaming. Time to say good-bye to Will and face the guillotine with Jake. “Really, though, if you want me to come with—”

  “I’ll be fine,” Will interjected, lifting his hand. “These are probably the least serious wounds I’ve ever gone to a hospital for, so I think I’ll manage.” Will pulled me back to him and lowered his mouth to my ear. “It was all worth it,” he whispered before kissing the skin below my ear and letting me go. “I’m ready for my tetanus shot and stitches, guys. And based on the kind of guy I just got into a scrap with, I’d better get a rabies shot too.”

  I was still puzzling over what he’d whispered to me when he glanced over his shoulder as the bouncers escorted him toward the door. “Sorry about busting up your place, Jake. I’ll pay for all of the damages, okay?”