by Kat Addams
My pulse quickened. The way Betty had stood there like she wanted to kill me sent a flush throughout my entire body. I closed my eyes for a split second and readjusted my hard-on, hiding it behind my apron as best as I could.
“What else you swiping? Old ladies’ jewelry when they stick their hands down your G-string at the strip club?” Betty popped up behind me, sending me into a girlish scream.
“No.” I cleared my throat and again gave my best burly voice. “I wouldn’t do that! Man, do you have this bad impression of me or all men?” I picked up our lost-and-found box.
“All men. So far anyway. Now, give me that.” She snatched the box from my hand and picked her leather wallet off the top, stuffing it into her purse. “Hmm. Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.” She turned on her heels to leave.
I stood, mesmerized, as her perfectly round ass bounced down the hallway. I loved every part of a woman, but I was through and through an ass man. One handful of that sweet butt cheek, and the animal in me awakened. I shook myself out of my trance. I’d had Betty alone for the first time, and I hadn’t even made a move.
“Wait!” I called out after her, running to catch up. “You really believe all men are douche bags? Stealing your money even?”
“Of course, not all men! But I have run into some who have been spiking my drinks lately.” She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back as if she was taking my whole being into view.
I wasn’t sure what went through that feisty brain of hers, but the vicious smirk she wore on her face caused my cock to stir again.
“What do you mean? You order alcoholic beverages, and I heavy-hand it. It’s like me giving you more than what you pay for, like a bonus. I thought you might like that. I don’t do that for everyone, you know.”
“Only all those women who are coming and going with you from what I hear. Are you Terrance the mixologist or your stripper name, Tito the Mixmaster? Just like a man to have an alter ego. Don’t get me wrong. I like the wild demon you let out. But I also like authenticity. With you, I don’t know what I’ll get. It seems to me like you have a hectic and very exciting life. Taking home women left and right.”
“Huh?” I gulped. I knew exactly what she was talking about. “That’s not what it looks like. I’m not a playboy.” Lie number one. Kind of.
I wasn’t a playboy anymore. I had been, but I had turned a new leaf just two months ago. I had decided it was time for me to grow up and look for a respectable woman. But even then, supplying drunk women with more booze and cock and balls wasn’t exactly how I thought I could pick up a respectable woman. My options these days were limited.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Tito. I know your type. Love ’em and leave ’em. I asked Jay about you. I wanted to know if you were available. He told me he thought so, but he had seen you with several different women over the months. They pretty much come and go when the wind changes. You telling me Jay is a liar?”
“Oh gosh, no! I’d love to explain all of that to you.” Lie number two. I dreaded explaining my situation to anyone, especially a potential date. I stood there, shifting my eyes everywhere, except to hers.
“I’m waiting.” She tapped her foot on the floor before turning to leave again and calling out behind her, “All men. Boy, bye!”
I fumbled with my words, unable to speak coherently. I had a thousand different ways I wanted to tell her she was wrong. But I wasn’t sure that I was ready to put my private life out there in the open yet. I knew it was coming one day, but today wasn’t the day.
Instead of running after her again, I bit my tongue and watched her leave.
I pulled up at my dad’s place a little after midnight. My eyes burned with exhaustion. Two drunken patrons had needed my help in getting home, so I’d had to call an Uber and see them off safely. Jay had stayed with me the entire night.
We never spoke about Betty again after she left. We had both been too busy. Scarlett Herb continued to grow, and every night lately, we’d been packed. Even our reservations were booking two weeks out. Aiden was scrambling to open a new location, but due to his perfectionism, the search continued.
I had to admit, he thrived in the restaurant business. His creative mind kept Scarlett Herb fresh and new. Jay had the same business sense. Those two together were the dynamic duo of the Outer Forks restaurant world. And me? I was a simple mixologist and moonlighting stripper. I did what I had to do to get by. But one day—and I never admitted this to anyone—I wanted to have my own bar.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like working at Scarlett Herb. I loved it. The pay was great, the people were terrific, and it was steady work. But I did enjoy crafting cocktails, and I would love to do it on my own terms. Jay and Aiden usually let me create whatever, but it wasn’t the same as having my own place. I hadn’t quite figured that dream out. I hadn’t had the time yet. My personal life consumed me.
I quietly shut the door on my old truck and made my way inside my dad’s house. My keys jangled against the lock as I held my breath and tried to silently sneak through the door.
“Daddy!” my daughter, Maisy, cried out.
“What are you doing out of bed, peanut?” I asked.
“Gramps fell asleep again. He was watching TV with me, and he did this thing.” She tossed her head back, and with her nose toward the ceiling, she stretched her tiny mouth open, snoring loudly through her throat.
“We’re all tired, I guess. But you’re going to be the most tired. Your six-year-old little body can’t handle being awake for so long. You’ll be a terror tomorrow.” I rubbed my palm over my face, desperately trying to wake myself up.
“Not me! I don’t get tired!” she said, bouncing up and down before tucking herself into a ball and somersaulting across the kitchen.
“Gramps probably hasn’t mopped this floor in fifteen years! Get off there! Come on. Let’s get you up to bed. I think we’re just going to sleep here tonight. I’ll bring you back home tomorrow. Maria is watching you.” I groaned as I bent over to pick her up and into my arms.
“Not that witch!” she whined, burying her head into my shoulder.
“Maisy! You can’t speak that way about people. Maria is a nice lady.” Lie number three of the day.
I considered myself an honest person, but sometimes, I dished out the bullshit for everyone else’s good.
“No, she isn’t, Daddy. Maria makes me go to bed. She won’t let me watch TV with her, like Gramps. She’s like one of those people in that green stuff.”
“What green stuff?”
“The stuff that makes you invisible.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“They wear it and fight!”
“Wear it? Do you mean camouflage?”
“Yes.” She yawned as I cradled her in my arms, carrying her up the stairs to the spare bedroom.
“So, you’re saying she’s like an army person? A drill sergeant?”
“That yells and blows whistles.”
“Yes, sweetie, that’s a drill sergeant.” I set her on my old daybed and rolled down the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sheets Gramps had saved from my childhood.
Maisy didn’t mind the boy sheets. She thought she was too cool for dolls and pink anyway. Somewhere along the line, she’d decided that she didn’t want to be thought of like a princess or a baby. She wanted to be treated as an independent child.
I tucked her in snuggly under the blankets and brushed the wild curls from her face before leaning down to kiss her good night.
“Maria doesn’t have a whistle though,” she mumbled, fluttering her eyes closed.
“No, she doesn’t,” I whispered.
“Don’t buy her one, okay?”
“I won’t.” I laughed, flicking the lamp off.
“Promise?”
“Promise. Now, get some sleep. The morning will be here before you know it.” I tiptoed backward out of the bedroom and shut the door behind me.
My feet
dragged as I made my way to the bathroom and readied myself for bed.
Tomorrow night, I’d be working another shift at The Steamy Clam. My dance routine had been growing stale. I needed to up my game if I wanted to remain exciting for the women who stuffed my drawers with cash. But without the energy, I was going to become a washed-up stripper before I could even land a stable, steady gig.
I peered into the mirror in front of me, leaning in to inspect the stubble that I’d grown across my jawline. No matter how hard I tried, I struggled to grow a full beard. But the ladies in the club and at the bar seemed to like my five o’clock shadow just fine.
I brushed my teeth and washed my face, too tired to shower the herbal scent of Scarlett Herb off of me. My hands reached up over my head as I stretched my back and opened the bathroom door.
“You sleeping here then?” my dad, James, asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Jeez! You can’t scare me like that! Yes, we’re going to stay. Sorry I was late. Drunkards at the bar. Safety first. The last thing the restaurant needs is a lawsuit.” I shrugged my shoulders and turned off the light.
“You’re working too hard, you know. I don’t think you need as much money as you think you need. Maisy will be fine. She has everything. What she needs—” he started.
“Stop. I already know.” I threw my hands in the air. “I’m working on it. Hopefully, I can slow down soon. It’s just busy season with patio weather. I’m doing my best, Dad. Really, I am. You know it.”
“I know. It’s hard. Remember, I raised you as a single dad too. When your mom left, I had to bring you to work with me sometimes. I’d wake you up in the middle of the night when I was on call, and you would bring a pillow and sleep in my office.” His face drooped as if he’d aged four years just by recalling those memories.
“Yep, I remember. I don’t think the strip club or the bar is a place I could bring Maisy. So, what do you suggest? How else do I support her and give her everything I can?”
“Just be with her. She doesn’t need the latest and greatest. She’ll survive. She only wants you. And maybe a lady friend. You know she needs that. Not one of your eighteen babysitters but someone steady.” He put his hands behind his back and leaned into the wall, resting his hip against the striped ’70s-style wallpaper.
“No time to date,” I groaned. “Plus, whenever I mention that I’m a single dad, women usually run the other way. Just like Jane did and just like Mom.” I folded my arms across my chest and rested against the other wall.
It was too late for me to have this discussion, but I knew my dad had been wanting to have this talk for a while.
“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? You picked a runner, and so did I. But guess what. I got you out of it, and I couldn’t be happier. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Your mom was the one who missed out on life. Just like Jane. She’s missing the best moments of her child’s life by not watching her grow up. That little girl in there”—he nodded his head toward the spare bedroom—“she is special. It doesn’t take gadgets and gizmos to show her that either. You’re a good dad, and I’m proud of you.”
I pushed myself off the wall, ready to end this conversation. “Thanks. She’s my world.”
“I know. And you both are mine,” he said, patting my back as I turned to go. “Now, get some sleep.”
I nodded, shuffling my feet down the hall. Since Maisy often slept in the spare bedroom, the only other place for me to lay my head was on the couch in my old game room.
I had slept in this room often as a teenager. When I was old enough to stay home alone, my dad would order pizza, and I’d stay up all night long, playing video games and eating junk while he ran to the office. It certainly beat sleeping in his office while he dialed in to conference calls.
Because I spent a lot of time unsupervised during my teenage years, I got in my fair share of trouble here and there. I didn’t blame my dad for not being there all the time. He was there in the moments I needed him. He made sure to support me in every way he could, but times were tough, and like me, he worked a lot. We didn’t have much when I was growing up. I survived on bologna sandwiches, cornflakes, and late-night television. That was, until I hit sixteen. Then, my life mostly consisted of girls, beer, and friends who weren’t as much friends as they were bad influences.
But still, even through rough times, my dad loved me and let me know that often. When it was time for me to head off to college, he supported me and my decision to major in hospitality. When he learned that I had knocked a girl up, he stepped in and helped Jane and me both financially. He never told me he was disappointed or that I was a failure. He said nothing, only offering to help us when we needed it.
But when Jane had left and I’d had to quit school, that was when I’d learned just how much my father cared. He’d retired as early as he could, and took care of Maisy while I worked odd jobs here and there.
Things were finally beginning to come together with the stability from my mixologist job at Scarlett Herb and my side hustle at the strip club, but I still had nights like tonight that wore everyone out. I had a lot of dad guilt, leaning on my father for help and not being there as much as I wanted to for Maisy. But I needed a steady income and money in the bank so that I could relax and have more time to be a dad one day.
If I could just put my nose to the grind for a few years, Maisy and I and even my dad could all live the good life. I would work my bar and set my hours to have a flexible enough schedule so that I could be there for Maisy. Not to mention, I’d pay myself pretty well, and then I could provide Maisy with something more than a tiny one-bedroom apartment. I’d pack her gourmet lunches for her uppity school, buy her the latest iPhone, and cross my fingers that she had everything she wanted in life and would never rebel against me—or worse, become just like me when I had been a teen.
I just need to win the damn lottery, I thought as I plopped myself on the couch, taking the throw blanket from the back cushions and covering myself.
I cringed at the thought of sleeping on this dirty sofa again. Plenty of times, I’d had girls up here and had to flip the couch cushion to play Hide the Wet Spot before my dad came back home. Those were the good ol’ days. Sneaking beer and banging chicks left and right. High school was my golden years, and now, at twenty-eight, my shenanigans were sadly all out of my system. Almost.
Three
Betty
I pulled The Pink Taco Truck into the parking spot right across from Scarlett Herb. Friday nights at the square were always busy for us. All those drunk people stumbling out of expensive restaurants needed cheap food to eat. After spending a hundred dollars on Jay’s pricey-ass cocktails, they couldn’t afford his pricey-ass entrees. That was where my DTF gang came into play. Our tacos supplied drunk food up until we sold out or until midnight. We usually sold out before ten.
Our sister truck operated on the other side of town and had been doing just as well. The new employees I’d trained caught on quick and even surprised both Rox and me on how well they’d been doing, taking over the other side of Outer Forks. We operated on the artsy/hipster side of town, and they focused on the university area and the big business/corporate side, which meant that I no longer had to wake up at the crack of dawn and drive this big-ass truck across town. Sometimes, we’d switch it up for a change of scenery, but we usually stuck to our same old spots and routines.
“Where is Layla?” Rox asked, searching in the rearview mirror.
Layla wanted to follow us tonight so that she could leave a little later. Lately, she and Aiden had been hanging out and doing all sorts of things together. That girl was in a heap of trouble. Aiden’s Australian accent alone made a tingle in my panties, and I wasn’t even attracted to him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hot. He was one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen. But he wasn’t wild enough for me. Aiden was a businessman who owned a stuffy restaurant, and I liked bad boys who lived on the edge. You know, the ones who needed punishment for heav
y-handing my liquor and stripping their clothes off for cash.
“She probably got lost back there. You know her; she’s directionally challenged,” I said, unbuckling my belt and heading toward the back to start prepping food.
“Well, shit. Nikki’s running late too. She just texted me.”
“It’s just me and you, Rox. Like old times.” I smiled, reminiscing on the days so long ago when it had been only Rox and me back at that diner, where I’d met my best friend.
“I guess I can tolerate just you.” She laughed. “Hey! Speaking of old times, any word from Earl? It’s been about two weeks since he stopped by to eat.”
Earl was the reason that our taco truck had been born. He’d believed in us enough to bankroll us into beginning our food truck adventures. Sometimes, all it took was just one person to believe in you. A shining example of that was Rox. These days, she was back to her old self—a badass chick whose smile dazzled even the darkest thoughts out of me. I had to give it to Jay. He had brought life back to my friend when I was worried her ex had sucked it all out of her. I still couldn’t believe the drastic change.
“Just a few days ago, he called to make sure all was well. He said he’s been looking for a new investment. You know how he is. He has more money than he knows what to do with.” I shook my head.
“Sorry I’m late!” Nikki blurted, opening the back door to the truck and climbing inside. “Ma has been all over my ass about this wedding business. She stopped me as I was leaving and had to show me about eighteen bazillion places she’d marked in these damn wedding magazines she’d bought.”
“I still can’t believe you’re going to be a bride,” Rox said. “I thought for sure it would be Layla first.”
“Speak of the devil,” I said as I heard Layla’s car door slam shut. I knew it was her because she was OCD and slammed it shut twice. Always. I had no idea why, and I didn’t ask questions. It was Layla.
“I don’t know how I lost this big-ass pink truck in traffic! My mind must have been elsewhere!” Layla climbed into the truck and tied an apron around her waist.