Wannabe: An Against The Odds Novel

by Christa DeClue

  I turn and enter the Starbucks. Foregoing the decision to order coffee first, I make my way over to Amber, who has her back to me as she continues to talk into the phone. I must be more silent than I thought, because she never lowers her voice. “No, Michael, they aren’t going to hire me back at Dark Angels.” She pauses for a moment. “I know all the effort is wasted. I get that, I’ve tried both aspects. Maybe I should go to the third tier—pornography has a lot of it too. I know I could get stonewalled. Trust me, Michael, I’m handling it.” She takes a deep breath, listening as I grow angrier. “He’s not going to be a problem, I’m breaking ties today. Listen to me, jackass, this isn’t your call!” she barks into the phone and hangs up. She blows out her breath as I tap her on the shoulder. She springs up like her ass is on fire and whirls on me.

  Her face drains of color when she realizes I had to have been standing there for a while. She opens her mouth—to explain, I gather—when I say, “Who’s Michael?”

  She quickly closes her mouth and I can practically see her mind racing. Not wanting to cause a scene in Starbucks, I quickly take the open seat across from her. She sits silently, I wait for her to respond to my question but the silence grows lengthy and, in my frustration, I growl, “He’s your pimp, isn’t he?” What seems to be relief flickers across her face.

  “Yes,” she states firmly. My incredulity must show at her affirmation and I can feel my anger grow.

  “You’re not fucking doing porn, Amber, I don’t care wait your filthy pimp says,” I spit out coldly and she bristles immediately. She has a white-knuckled grip on her coffee cup and finally deigns to respond to me.

  “Why not, Ryan, are you scared that you’ll be associated with me? Oh, how horrible to hang out with a sex worker. Get over it. It’s not your call either. God, I hate how easy you get under my skin!” she hisses.

  My anger at her spikes; the thought of her being forced to do sexual favors for money is enough to make me crazy. Especially now that I know she isn’t choosing this herself. My eyes bore into hers, and hers are searing into me. I take a deep breath and try a different tactic.

  “Amber, I know this isn’t what you want. Please, let me help you. Is it the money? Do you need money? I’ll give you what you need, just tell me. Who’s this pimp of yours? Tell me his name, Michael what, and I’ll make him go away; he’ll never bother you again,” I tell her beseechingly, imploring her to let me help her. Her shoulders slump, and she brings the coffee to her lips and takes a deep sip. After I stare her down for a moment, she lifts her gaze to mine, and her face is unreadable again.

  “What is it you’ve wanted to talk to me about, Stoney? I’m going to give you five more minutes before I leave,” she replies coolly.

  A muscle starts ticking in my jaw, and it takes great restraint not to pull her over my lap and give her the spanking she deserves. Her eyes flare a bit at whatever she sees in my face, and she crosses her legs. No matter that she doesn’t want to be, we are attracted to each other. We have been from the very moment we met, with her in a tiny dress, handling men like a badass.

  Maybe I can use that fact to get her to come to her senses. She jerks away from me and looks around the emptying coffee shop. She studies all the people, and it strikes me again that she misses nothing. Her intelligence was what had me asking the other men in Narcotics to keep an eye on her, and bust her whenever she was trying to get a date. She’s too smart for that life; the thought of her doing those things causes an ache in my gut.

  “Amber, I’m sorry for getting you involved six months ago. I genuinely never thought you’d be in any danger. You were the one who told me you danced for men there before. I’m not blaming you, just wondering why you did. I thought I would be able to keep you safe. I overestimated myself, when the truth is, I just wanted you with me. You told me I get under your skin; but the true fact is, you got under mine that very first day we met. I wanted to make sure you were protected and out of trouble when I was gone. I needed you with me to think clearly. Now you won’t even talk to me, and if I could go back and kill the bastard all over again for hurting you, I would. I’m sorry.” My frustration leaks into my voice. She sets her cup down with an audible thump, and meets my gaze, then lets out a deep sigh.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Ryan. I shouldn’t have blamed you. It was my choice to go, not yours. All is forgiven. My scars are mine, my story is mine, and guilt about me has no place in your life. Move on and forget about me, okay? My lifestyle is not going to change for the foreseeable future. Nothing you say is going to change that fact,” she tells me and rises from her chair.

  I jump up and grab her arm to keep her from leaving. She jerks around to stare at me in surprise, and I close the distance between us, slamming my mouth against hers. I swear the earth stands still as I feel her soft, plump lips beneath mine part, and when my tongue slips into her mouth to duel with hers, she lets out a small moan. It goes straight to my dick, and I’m at half-mast just from one moan from her. It shouldn’t surprise me; I’m constantly hard around her. She leans into my kiss, and I let out a groan as she nips my bottom lip softly. Our kiss grows more heated, until we hear a throat clearing, and Amber jumps away from me like she’s been burned.

  One of the workers is staring at us with raised brows and I shoot him a glare before my eyes return to Amber’s dazed face. As a first kiss, that was the best one I’ve ever had. Her lips look swollen and my satisfaction swells.

  “That shouldn’t have happened, Stoney. You can’t do things like that,” she whispers.

  “Why not? Is it because you liked it too much, Amber? I know you want me, just give in. We both need to just give in because I want you just as bad. What is it you’re afraid of?” I ask gruffly, reaching for her, done fighting what has been building between us for months. She takes a step back while glaring at me.

  “No, you can’t do things like that because you have to pay for that. Bye, Stoney,” she says quietly, then rushes out the door, leaving me standing there, staring after her. I feel my frustration rising again. I’ve never met a more stubborn woman and that’s saying something because my best friend’s woman brings new meaning to that word. I stare up at the ceiling and pray for strength.

  “Women, amirite?” the Starbucks worker says, patting me on the shoulder. I slowly look down at his hand then at the worker’s face. He quickly removes the offending limb and clears his throat. “She’ll be back, mate, but she’s in here with the same dude on Thursdays. Just so you know.”

  He hastily walks away at my glare, and then what he said registers. Amber is in here with the same dude on Thursdays. Could it be her pimp, Michael?

  Chapter Five: Amber

  I’m staring at the blinking sign of my old place of employment and wonder how I let my life get here. I’m incredibly good at my job, and I’m hoping now that Matt’s had a few days to cool off, he’ll let me come back. He’s always had a soft spot for me. I cross the street to round the back of the building. Since it’s daylight hours, the front is manned by a different door guy, who I know won’t let me in. Particularly because he’s Kenny’s best friend. Gag me. I slip in the back door to make my way to Matt’s office when I hear hushed whispers. I blend myself into the darkened hallway.

  “Kenny, I can’t push this product. It’s garbage. This is worse than the shit you had last week. I don’t know who your supplier is but, honey, they need to reconsider their life choices,” Tara hisses to Kenny in a hushed tone.

  Kenny glares at Tara and leans in close to her face as if to intimidate her. But since he’s about as intimidating as a wet diaper, she stands her ground. Her lip curled lightly in disgust.

  “Maybe if you stopped giving the shit out for free so these guys would buy a dance from your skank ass, we might actually be making some profit. It’s not my fault you can’t sell yourself, let alone some powder,” Kenny grumbles back to her.

  “Kenny, this ain’t funny, Mattie is on to me already. He busted me and Mr. Jenkins the other night whe
n you got Amber fired. He knows I’m pushing something now. You gotta let your suppliers know this might not be a good place to sell anymore,” Tara whispers back, and their voices start fading away as they walk towards the front, away from my hiding place. My mind is reeling from what I just heard. I had no idea Kenny was dealing and that Tara was selling for him; I just thought she was giving out extra favors in the lap dance room.

  I shake myself out of the stupor and hesitantly make my way towards Matt’s office. I knock twice on the wood door, and it’s jerked open. I can hear the low curse from Matt’s lips as he takes me in. I’m dressed regularly, in ripped jeans and a Cindi Lauper shirt, and I just wave at him.

  He ushers me inside and shuts the door firmly, then stares at me a moment. “I can assume you’re not here to pick up your last check,” he says tiredly while rubbing the bridge of his nose. I shake my head and he gestures for me to sit in the purple plush chair. I settle down and feel a little like I’m in the principal’s office. I start drumming my manicured nails against the arm of the chair and wait to see if he says anything first. When he doesn’t, I blow out my breath.

  “Mattie, I really need this job. I know you don’t tolerate any sort of violence between employees, but I really didn’t put Ryan up to it. I’m sorry. Even if you don’t have me dancing, can you at least put me behind the bar? Hell, I’ll mop floors if I have to,” I implore him lightly, all the while mentally sighing at the image of Ryan hitting Kenny. What can I say, I’m slightly bloodthirsty. Matt is silent for a long while, staring at the ceiling, as I hold my breath, waiting for an answer.

  “Well, do you have any bartending experience? I keep saying I need another pretty bartender besides Briar. Mostly ’cuz Briar scares some of the customers,” Matt jokes. I squeal and throw myself at him for a hug, but he dodges me. “Ah ah, none of that. Come back tomorrow and we’ll get you trained behind the bar. But, for God’s sake, Amber, no neon. Wear black, or something else dark. Dark Angels. Not Angels from the eighties,” he states matter-of-factly, while staring at my bright pink shirt. I sniff daintily at him and he chuckles.

  “All right, Mattie, I’ll wear black for you.” I wink and blow him a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I can still have Thursdays off though, yeah? You know I have…class,” I finish hesitantly.

  He just nods as he turns back to the paperwork he was working on before I interrupted him. I rush over and quickly hug him, which has him groaning again. I kiss his cheek and he shoos me away. I leave his office, smiling, and run straight into Kenny.

  “What are you doing here, bitch?” he hisses at me. I smile serenely at him and push past his scrawny ass, then turn back and give him my smug bitch face. Not to be confused with my resting bitch face, or my regular bitch face. He glares at me.

  “Why, Kenny, whatever do you mean? I work here. Ask Mattie.” I flutter my eyelashes and as he swears, I flounce away with a beauty queen wave. He is still swearing by the time I exit the back and make my way towards the club. I see Briar setting up the bar, in a corset tighter than a nun’s vagina. The rest of her outfit is leather, and she looks sexy and dangerous. I let out a wolf whistle and her head jerks up. She pushes her curly auburn hair out of her face and when she realizes it’s me, her blood-red lips part into a sparkling smile.

  “The bitch is back,” she calls out to the other two people in the club—Haven, who is going through the motions of dancing, and Mr. Cahill, who fumbles the dollar bills he’s lined up in a perfect row in front of him. He glares back at Briar and I, and we look at each other and giggle. Haven throws me a slight wave and smiles. I wave back, then mime the “making dollar bills rain” gesture. She laughs lightly, and looks pointedly at the two neat dollars bills Mr. Cahill has set in front of her. I shake my head and turn back to Briar.

  “Love monkey, I need you to dress me tomorrow. Mattie is putting me behind the bar with you. My guess is, so I don’t scare off the customers with my frankentitties.” I wink at her so she knows I’m teasing before she can get her panties, or lack thereof, in a wad. “He wants me to wear sexy black clothes. I only own neon. Help a sister out.” I bat my lashes at her and she shakes her head.

  “I guess I can bring you some decent clothes. I’ve been wondering when you were going to ask me. We’re roughly the same size, and neon is terrible,” she tells me with a tilt of her head. I sniff indignantly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I always look like the second cumming,” I sassily snark. She looks at me with raised, perfectly arched, brows.

  “You definitely don’t look like Jesus, sugar tits,” Briar says with a laugh. I shake my head lightly at her.

  “No babe, second cumming, like C-U-M. Like, after the second orgasm, how sexy you feel and you just have bedroom eyes. All you wanna do is have a cigarette and feel yourself. The tingles. The residual pleasure. That’s me, as a person,” I explain with a saucy wink.

  She rolls her eyes and starts wiping down the bar as I laugh and slap my hands against the bar top, the sound causing Mr. Cahill to jump and fumble more of his ones. With his coke bottle glasses askew, he looks back and glares at me again. I catch Briar’s attention and blow her a kiss. She catches it and places it on her ass, which causes me to roll my eyes. I make my way out of the establishment that is now my old-new job. I feel eyes on me the whole way out and it gives me an unsettling feeling. I turn and over my shoulder, I see Kenny glaring at me. I flip him the bird again.

  Freaking Kenny, man, what a creep.

  Chapter Six: Amber

  I should be used to the feeling of being stalked; I feel like someone has been watching me the entirety of my adult life. Maybe I’m being a dramatic bitch, but the moment I leave Dark Angels, the feeling of being watched intensifies. I look over my shoulder the entire way to the bus stop, just waiting for somebody to pop out and rape and murder me. What can I say, the teachings and warnings of my mother have never quite left me, and while she was a paranoid schizophrenic, I don’t like to tempt fate. I’m a badass, but nobody is a badass when it comes to being taken by surprise.

  I shrug my shoulders after I come up with nobody the fifth time I check. Finally, the bus arrives and I board quickly with a gusty exhale. As I take my seat, I notice a man not forty feet away, in a dark hoodie. It’s dark enough outside I can’t see his face. I lean towards the window as he steps a little more into view.

  I narrow my eyes at the man, who my gut is screaming was the one following me, but before I can get a decent look at him, the bus is taking off. I slump back down into the bus seat and look around, exasperated, frustration bubbling inside me. Why would I be being watched right now? I can’t afford this. I make eye contact with a homeless man and he gives me a toothless smile. I smile back at him, but quickly find myself lost in my own thoughts. As the bus jerks to a stop about ten minutes into our trip, I realize we’ve reached my stop and quickly scramble to exit the bus. The homeless man gives me a little wave and I wave back.

  I turn onto the street that leads to my apartment, and the sky has darkened to a dusky orange color. The streetlights have yet to come on and I pass street vendors packing up shop. The activity on the street is rapidly dispersing and I don’t know if it’s the sensation of being watched earlier or if I really am jumpy, but the night took on an eerie feel and I pick up the pace on my walk. Soon though, the street clears out and the feeling of being watched returns. But instead of terrifying me as it had earlier, this time it pisses me off, which isn’t an easy thing to do. I don’t really get angry that often, I was taught discipline. I scan the street before my gaze settles on a familiar form. I hiss out a breath and march my ass over to him.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing following me, Stone. I bet you were the one perving on me at my work earlier, huh?” I spit at a surprised Ryan. I shove him with all my strength and because I’ve taken him by surprise, he stumbles back one step. One. And that pisses me off more. “I have a feeling that you must get off on terrorizing me, is that it? You didn�
��t even want to sleep with me last year, now you suddenly want to be around me all the time? Why. Won’t. You. Leave. Me. Alone?” I scream at him, breathing hard.

  He growls at me. He legitimately growls at me and grips my upper arms.

  “I wasn’t perving on you. Jesus, Amber, I tried to get into your building to see you earlier, but your doorman said you were out. Then the little fucker mocked me and said you were out forever. So, I decided to wait to see if you came home. I wasn’t following you. I just wanted to finish the conversation we started yesterday.”

  He speaks low, in my face, and slowly my rage begins to clear as his dark eyes meet mine. The realization that, if he wasn’t following me, someone else had to have been does nothing to settle my turbulent emotions. I must still be glaring at him because Ryan growls again and hauls me into an alley close to my building. He twirls me around to face him again and my teeth gnash together at his audacity.

  “This isn’t kinky or creepy in the slightest. Is this where you tell me that you’re not really a cop, and that you’re actually a serial killer and I’m your next victim? Typical. Lure me in with the pretty face and the chiseled body and then boom, murdered. Freaking Ted Bundy types, man,” I say with a huff and a roll of my eyes. It’s his turn to glare at me.

  “Fuck, Amber, I’m not a serial killer. I also never told you I didn’t want to sleep with you last year. I fucking saw that lowlife about to assault you. That’s why I came over; I was going to help you. But then I noticed your clothes and heard what he was saying to you. I saw those girls staring at you. And you handled your own like a badass, and I had to fucking shake myself out of a stupor. I realized what you chose to do as your profession, and I fucking hated it. I told myself I wouldn’t allow it to happen, so I propositioned you. Which is unheard of for an undercover. I work Narcotics, not prostitutes; that’s a beat cop thing. That’s why no charges were ever filed. I don’t know why I can’t leave you alone. I just know that I fucking can’t,” Ryan grits out in anguish, then slams his mouth against mine.