Stripped

by H. M. Ward

  Trystan slams his hands on my desk and leans in. "Why?" A necklace slips out from the neck of his shirt. It's a silver band—a ring—dangling, spinning on its chain.

  "Because I have other things to do and I can't be here—"

  "Why?"

  "Because!"

  Trystan straightens and tucks the ring away so it can't be seen. He slips his hands into his pockets and turns, pacing the floor. A huge smile spreads across his face like he understands. "Oh, because. Yeah, that's a great explanation for acting like a crazy bastard." While he speaks, Trystan's index finger taps his chin, and his eyes flash like he knows damn well why I bought this place. The smirk falls off his mouth. Leaning against the wall, he folds his arms over his chest, and doesn't look at me. Long strands of dark hair block his face when he asks, "So, who is she?"

  I stare at him. There's no point in denying it, he already knows something's up. I'm acting like a goddamn idiot, but I can't admit it. "No one, all right?"

  "No one wouldn't make you act like this. You've been—shall we say, tense—since Peter's party, and I think I know why. That girl, the one he handed to you, the one you ran off with—she's the one that messed you up, isn't she?"

  "Fuck, no. She's the one who patched me up." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  Trystan is silent for a little bit. When he speaks he points out something I'd never thought about before. "You know why we're friends, right? Why we get along so well?" I glance at him, but Trystan's gaze doesn't meet mine. Instead he pushes off the wall and runs his hands through his hair. "There's no hiding what I lived through. The papers plastered it everywhere. Since then, I've found a few people who lived through their own hell, and it was always inflicted by someone else. You might not have said it, but there's something about people like us, Jon. We gravitate toward one another and try to protect each other."

  I don't look at him. I know Trystan's been through the shitter and what his dad did to him. I don't disagree with him, although I have no idea what the hell he sees in me. I sound like a girl. I blink hard and look up at him. "You're like a brother to me, Trystan. You don't have to—"

  "No, I think I do. You don't seem to realize what this girl means to you. She's seriously the one who put you back together?"

  I nod and watch him as he sits on the edge of my desk. "Yeah, she was totally wrong for me." I smile, thinking about Cassie sitting at her Aunt's house and the way she smiled and danced around the place late at night when we were both too tired to sleep. "And yet..." I shrug, because there are no words—because she was and is the right woman for me. She always has been, which makes it hurt even more.

  "You love her?"

  The words hang there like a noose, waiting for me. It's always been waiting for me, and buying this place was like building the scaffolds so I can go hang myself. Rubbing my hands over my face, I say, "Trystan, she stabbed me in the back. It doesn't matter how I feel about her because I can never trust again, not after that."

  "Then, why'd you buy this place?"

  "To save her from a little agony. Her life was hard before. I can't imagine what it's turned into for her to step out onto that stage every night. Maybe she meant to hurt me, but I can't leave her here like this. I want to make sure she's safe, and see what kind of asshole she married that will let her walk in here every night." Grabbing a stack of papers, I slam them down on the desk and stand abruptly. I walk over to the window and look out into the dusty parking lot. This place is a dump and the thought of her being here is too much, but she's not mine to save. Cassie married someone else.

  "Damn." Trystan pulls up one leg onto the desk and watches me for a second. I glance over my shoulder at him. "You're in love with the girl who got away—after she stabbed you in the back—who's married and works at a strip club. You're totally fucked. No wonder you've been acting like a madman." Trystan laughs, but it's not cruel. It's the laugher of the screwed.

  "Yeah, no wonder."

  CHAPTER 30

  CASSIE

  His kiss lingers long after it's gone. I'd always wondered what it would feel like to have Jon kiss me. God, I was so stupid when I met him. It's a wonder we got along at all. I think back and smile. Then I glance around at the basement apartment and dark paneling and I feel sick.

  Grabbing a sweater, I shout to Beth, "I'm going for a walk."

  "You're gonna get shot!"

  "I'm fine. I'll be back in time for work. Don't leave without me." I'm out the door before she can reply or offer to come with me. I walk around to the side gate and when I look up I see the guy who gave me his inhaler.

  Kam nods at me once, his dark eyes following me as I walk down the street. The park isn't too far from here. I suck in the cool air and let it fill my lungs until it feels like they're going to burst. Pulling my sweater tighter around me, I make my way into the little park and over to the swings. There's no one here right now. It's a bit too cool and damp to bring the toddlers out, and the older kids are still in school.

  After wiping off the damp swing with my sleeve, I sit down. My head hangs between my shoulders as I study the way my shoes make lines in the clumpy sand. I wish I was able to fix my life, but wishing has never fixed anything. I can't divorce Mark without money, and it takes a lot more than I have. When I told my mom what happened, she didn't help me. She told me that I made this mess and I need to clean it up. As if I signed up to have a guy beat the shit out of me. Toby, my perfect older brother, agreed with her, and Dad's dead. There was no one to defend me, no one to offer me solace, or a place to rest my head when Mark tried to take it off my shoulders.

  Things weren't bad at first. In the beginning, Mark was perfect. He didn't push me to do anything I didn't want to do. We'd stay up late and talk for hours, confessing our secrets. He made me happy. Mark didn't tell me that I was strange for wanting to wait to be with him until we were married. He held my hand and seemed content. Then came the wedding ring and when the honeymoon arrived, I was alone with him and Mark was a different man. The kind, patient person I fell in love with disappeared and I was left with someone else.

  The first time we were together, I was so nervous that I couldn't do what he wanted. It was too much, too fast. I tried, but it hurt. I thought he'd let me stop, or slow down a little, but he didn't. His hand hit my face so hard that it left a mark. The next day when he was smiling at me over breakfast, I was too ashamed to tell anyone. I thought it was my fault.

  Months passed and I was trapped. One time I tried to run away, but he found me. Mark showed up at work and got me fired. When I found out how much money I needed for a divorce, I didn't know what to do. Mark handled all the money. He didn't let me touch it, so I had nothing. He used my credit to buy things, he used my money, he used my body—he used me. It took me forever to figure out that he didn't love me.

  I've never been so wrong about someone in my entire life, except maybe Jon. I never gave him a chance back then, and I regret it now. Seeing him again, tasting his lips like that, makes me realize how much I messed up. If I could take back what I did to him, I would.

  A twig snaps, forcing my gaze to lift. I glance around for the source of the noise but there isn't anyone around. The park is empty, like it was before, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, so I smooth it with my hand and glance around. Leaves rustle in the breeze, before a gray bunny hops out from behind a trash can.

  I smile to myself for being paranoid. I always think every out of place sound is Mark sneaking up on me, even though I haven't seen him in a while. I'd like to feel safe again, someday. Pushing off the swing, I head back.

  Beth is already dressed in a soft track suit with her bag over her shoulder. She's standing at the kitchen counter, stuffing a sandwich into her mouth as fast as possible. "Hurry up," she sputters, spewing crumbs everywhere.

  "Why? It's still early."

  "New boss wants us there now. We're late."

  "The new boss. Ri
ght."

  ____

  On the ride to work, I'm too quiet and Beth notices. She glances over at me. "So, are you ever going to tell me what went down between you two?"

  "There's not much to tell."

  "Liar. Just spill it. You'll feel better and facing him won't suck so much."

  "Confession has never worked like that for me. It's always turned around and bitten me on the ass."

  "Well, then you're doing it wrong." Beth blares the horn at someone and then bobs and weaves through traffic like she's possessed.

  Gripping the door handle, I push myself back into the seat. "You might want to slow down a little."

  "We're late."

  "Fine, I'll tell you. Just slow down."

  Beth gives me a wicked grin and then we both laugh as she resumes a normal driving speed. "So spill. Did you do it with him? Scorned lovers, right?"

  Smiling, I shake my head and look at my fingernails. "No, it wasn't like that. We were friends, really good friends. The scar on my neck," I point to it, dragging my finger along the mark, "I got it when I was with Jon. There was a bombing and he saved me. His back is as cut up as my neck. If he didn't throw himself on top of me, I would have died. Someone else did. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time." I don't look up at her. My lashes remain lowered, my gaze locked on my fingers.

  "So, then what's up with you two?"

  I shrug. "I don't know."

  "Cass..."

  I don't want to tell her. It sounds horrible, and saying it out loud makes it worse. But I find the words and tell my story. "Fine, I do know. He hates me. I sold him out. At the end of the summer we spent together, a reporter wanted to know some things about the Ferros and had noticed me hanging around Jon all summer. I talked to him. He ran a story, and Jon never spoke to me again." Pressing my lips into a thin line, I try not to think about it. I was so naïve.

  "What'd you tell the reporter?"

  "Does it matter? It was enough to ruin whatever relationship we had." I sigh and lean my head against the window, watching the cars zip by.

  "I'm sorry, but I can't believe you acted maliciously. You're too fucking nice to everyone. Did the guy trick you or something?" I wish he did, but it's not the truth. I shake my head and don't offer anything else. "Come on Cassie, there's gotta be—"

  "There is no reason. Jon trusted me and I stabbed him in the back, okay? End of story. So now you know. Leave it alone." My throat tightens as the memories come flooding back. I can see the reporter, almost hear his voice. Confidence was strewn across my face as I answered him, certain that I was doing the right thing. Then I see the look on Jon's face when he found out, the blank stare that screams he can't believe I'd ever do something like that to him. But, I did. His uncle tossed my ass off their property before I could say anything. They never found out what happened, or why I did it.

  When Beth pulls her car into the club parking lot, my heart races. Every inch of my body is tense, like I'm facing a firing squad, and I can't hide it. Beth pulls the keys from the ignition and turns to me. "And what else? Because there's something else. I'm not blind, Cass. Tell me."

  I glance at her, quickly wishing that I could hide until this blows over, but it never seems to stop. There's always something else picking me clean, stripping me to the bone. I'm a mess of raw nerves and although she means well, I don't want to talk about it because there's nothing to say. It doesn't mean anything, not to Jon. Just before I push the door open, I tell her, "He kissed me last night."

  CHAPTER 31

  JONATHAN

  Sean walks into the club just as I walk out. He slams into me, his palms shoving into my shoulders. "What have you done?" He glares at me with his condescending glare, as I stumble back from him.

  "I'm not fighting with you." I shoulder past him, heading toward my car.

  "Jonny," Sean says, grabbing my shoulder. "You'll talk now. Mom doesn't know yet, but she will by the time your ass hits her doorstep. Talk to me. What the hell are you doing? She's going to skin you, and run your carcass up the flagpole for this."

  I glare at him. Sean and all his power, the way he's always two steps ahead, and every bit smarter than everyone else. I looked up to him once, but not anymore. "Thanks, I had no idea." My voice is flat and the words come out deadpan. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and turn to walk away, but Sean grabs my arm. "Don't fuck with me now, Sean."

  My brother leans into my face and hisses, "Someone has to."

  The way he says it makes my stomach sink. It's like he knows what I've done with Dad's mistresses, there's something in his voice—his eyes—that says so. "What do you want, Sean?"

  He slips his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and laughs, like something is funny. "I want what you want, little brother."

  "Somehow I doubt that." An annoyed look crosses his features, but it's gone in a flash.

  Leave it to Sean, he's the master of deception. I suppose he has to be that way or he'd hurl himself off a roof top. Still, when it's me and him, he can drop the act, but he never does. He's always Sean the omnipotent, the all-powerful Ferro brother. Screw that shit. The way I see it, he left me here to rot. If Peter hadn't come home, I wouldn't have seen Sean again. Never mind the fact that Sean had been in the city for weeks and didn't bother to visit me. I hadn't heard a word from him since he left here after Amanda died. I left Sean to wallow in his grief, and now he can leave me to stew in mine.

  It's dusk and she'll be here soon, which is why I don't have time for Sean and his PMS. He follows behind me, talking, jabbing words at my back like harpoons. "You think you have to defy everyone. Does it make you feel like a man to piss all over the family name? Does it make you feel like you're worth something? Like you have power that the rest of us don't? Because, I wouldn't make that mistake, Jonny. Heir or not, you can be slammed back down into your quiet little place with one of Dad's bitches attached to your dick before sunset."

  Sean's an asshole, but he usually means well. This time he doesn't. This time he's not testing, guiding, or doing any of that big brother shit he's pulled on me over the years. This time he sounds jealous and spiteful. My muscles tense and I keep walking, ignoring him until those last few words fall out of his mouth. They hit the ground like bombs and I explode. The satchel I have clutched under my arm is flung to the ground, and papers fly out as I ram into him, shoulder first.

  Sean catches my arm and tries to pin it to my back, but I break free. Before he can speak, my fist collides with his mouth. The bastard is still talking, but I can't hear anything except the roaring of my pulse in my ears. We pound each other, twisting around on the ground, covered in dirt, until Trystan and Bryan pull us apart.

  "What the fuck?" Bryan hisses at Sean, before smacking him in the back of the head. "Have you guys totally lost it?"

  Sean swats at Bryan, but doesn't hit him. Instead, he glares at me as he bats the dust off his clothes. "Get rid of this. Now."

  "So you can save face? Yeah, sure. Why not?" My voice is dripping with sarcasm that clearly conveys a different message—suck it.

  Trystan is standing next to me. He tilts his chin up and asks Sean, "What's he looking at for something like this?"

  "Disowned, if he's lucky." Sean looks over Trystan once, like he's no longer certain about the guy. When his gaze lands on me, he adds, "Peter will come by later with papers. Wait here for him, and sign the damn thing. Don't show your face until you do." Sean crosses the parking lot and glares at two girls who are headed toward the front door.

  When I see who they are, my heart drops to my shoes. Trystan leans in and shoulders me, "Decide."

  "What?" Blinking rapidly, I rub my temple and wipe away a bit of blood from where Sean's ring ripped open my skin. I avoid Cassie's gaze as she passes quickly. It's almost like she's running away from me.

  "You see what's happening here, right?" Trystan hunches his shoulders forward and leans in. Bryan does the same thing, and places his hand on his chin, listening. "They're drawing lines, bu
t they have no fucking clue why you're standing on this side."

  "And they don't care, Jonny," Bryan adds quickly. "You're going to lose everything if you don't fix this. I mean, if Sean is trying to step in—"

  Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I shake my head. "He's not trying to fix anything. Sean's after whatever Sean wants. He doesn't give a shit about me."

  Trystan laughs and wraps his arm over my shoulder. "You're so amazingly wrong. I know what it looks like when people don't give a shit about you, and that wasn't it. Sean is trying to change your mind, although he's doing it wrong."

  Bryan laughs like this whole mess is hysterical. Trystan and I stop walking and I look at him like he's gone nuts. Bryan holds his hand to his stomach, nearly doubled over. When he can breathe, he says, "I'm sorry, I just can't believe that I'm going to be the Ferro heir because you pissed off your mother and bought a strip club. Dude, you named it Club Ferro? You have a death wish. You have to. No one would be that mental, not around our family. Even this asshole knows that." He jabs his thumb at Trystan.

  I glance at my car, and back at my newly acquired strip shack. I don't want to go back in there. I wonder if Cassie feels like that every time she steps into the place. Glancing at the guys out of the corner of my eye, I say, "Come on. Drinks are on me until Peter shows his face."

  CHAPTER 32

  CASSIE

  I didn't expect to see Jon tonight, but he was standing in the parking lot when Beth and I passed. His eyes swept over me, like he couldn't stomach the sight of me. Nausea hits in a hard wave threatening to make me relive my cheap-o dinner.

  Beth notices, but she doesn't say much as we dress. There are too many people around. The other girls who work the first shift are dressing quickly, and applying thick make-up.

  Gretchen glares at me as she sprays her hair into place. I ignore her, and continue to get ready. I'm applying eyeliner when she leaves. As she walks by her hip bumps my elbow and I nearly stab my eye out. Stopping, she glances down at me. "Oops. Sorry, I didn't expect those beefy man arms to stick out quite so far." She walks past, swaying her hips with a smile on her lips.