Strip Me Bare

by Marissa Carmel

  “For what?”

  “For losing it. I never wanted you to see that side of me,” his voice sounds a little calmer now.

  “The badass side? Why not?”

  “For the same reason I didn’t want you knowing I was in jail.”

  “You’re ashamed of it?”

  He looks up at me and nods, his silence is oppressive.

  “Ryan, it’s okay,” I reassure him sweetly.

  “It’s not okay,” he snaps and his stare is suddenly juiced with electricity.

  “Why isn’t it okay? You got angry. It happens,” I gaze up at him, but he refuses to look me in the eye.

  “Ryan?”

  He keeps his head turned and breathes heavily, and I get the feeling there’s more bothering him than just his anger management issues. “You don’t believe what Sean said, do you?”

  He frowns, “Sometimes I wonder.”

  “Ryan,” I grab his face and force him to look at me. “You are good enough. Don’t let Sean get in your head.”

  “I’m a stripper, Alana.”

  “That’s not who you are and we both know it,” I argue sternly. “Nothing’s changed, not the way I see you and not the way I feel about you. And Sean deserved that punch in the face, he’s been playing mind games with me all night.”

  “What? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Besides, you have enough shit to deal with when it comes to him. You don’t need to add me to the rotation.”

  “Fucking Sean,” Ryan mutters, dropping his head against the door.

  Ryan doesn’t speak, or move, or rip his eyes away from the ceiling, so I just stand there with my arms wrapped around him and wait until he’s ready to let the anger go. By the looks of it, I could be here till sunrise.

  “Do your feet hurt?” Ryan finally looks down at me.

  “Maybe, why?” I scuff my boot timidly.

  “Because you keep shifting back and forth, and when you do that, it usually means your shoes are killing you,” his voice is even and calm.

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “With things like that, yes.”

  “But other things not so much?” I ask curiously.

  “No.”

  “Like what?”

  “Your emotions.”

  My emotions? When did this become about me?

  “What are you questioning? I just told you how I feel.”

  “You didn’t give me a straight answer.”

  “A straight answer to what?”

  “To marrying me.”

  “I don’t recall you ever asking me to marry you,” I answer slyly.

  “Alana-” Ryan drawls, but I refuse to give anything more away.

  I stare out over Manhattan from my uncle’s office, wondering what it will be like to look at the bright lights of Vegas instead of New York.

  I’ve interned at Remington, Lincoln, Anderson and Steele for the last two and half years. During every semester break and summer vacation. To call it an enlightening experience would be a dramatic understatement. My on the job training at one of the most prestigious law firms in New York City has put me light years ahead of my classmates. Two years ago I was looking for an edge, today I have one.

  “There’s one of my favorite girls,” my uncle says behind me, spurring me to turn around.

  “Afternoon Uncle John,” I say sweetly as he sits down and shuffles the papers on his desk. “Can I help you find something?”

  “No,” he says casually as he picks up a piece of paper and smiles. “What’s on your agenda today?”

  “Legal research. I’m assisting some of the associates on the Ericson case.”

  “The wrongful termination suit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Good,” my uncle says pleased. “Alana?” He swivels purposefully in his chair.

  “Yes?” I lean on the edge of his desk facing the window.

  “Have you started applying for first year positions yet?”

  “Um, yes, I sent out a few applications last week.”

  Before I knew I was moving to Las Vegas.

  “I see. Is there a firm you have your heart set on?” He steeples his fingers and rests them on his lips.

  Yes, yours.

  “I have a few in mind, why?”

  “Would you consider taking a job here?”

  “Here?” I squeak.

  “Yes, you’ve impressed every partner at this firm. There’s no challenge you haven’t risen to, and when I approached them with this request they agreed unanimously.”

  I stare at my uncle with disbelief. A week ago I would have jumped through the window to accept his offer, but now? Everything’s different.

  I drop my head and sigh, “Uncle John, you have no idea how badly I want to say yes-”

  “But,” he interrupts me.

  “But…Ryan was offered a huge job opportunity in Las Vegas.”

  “Las Vegas?” he grunts. “I take it this is not a graphic design opportunity.”

  “No,” I snicker.

  “Is that what you want, Alana? To go to Vegas?”

  I look down at him timidly and shrug, “I want Ryan.”

  “I see.” He looks out the window contemplatively.

  “Do you think that’s a bad decision? To go with him?” I ask.

  “I can’t answer that. Only you can.” His chair squeaks a little as he rocks back in it.

  “I don’t think it is,” I answer. “It may not have been part of my master plan, but life throws curve balls right? And I don’t want to look back one day and think what if. And I don’t want Ryan to either. He’s not asking me to give up anything, I can still practice in Las Vegas,” I say with a hint of disenchantment in my voice.

  “But it’s not New York,” my uncle retorts.

  “Nothing’s New York, but it won’t be permanent. We’ll move back eventually.”

  “Well,” one corner of my uncle’s mouth curves up. “You’ve certainly convinced me. I have a law school buddy out there. I’ll see if he’s in the market for a stellar first year who’s way too smart to be practicing in Vegas.”

  I smile slyly.

  “What’s that look for?” He takes out his pocket watch and glances at the time.

  “Ryan thought you might have a friend who could help me out with a job.”

  “Did he now?”

  “He’s not just a pretty face.”

  “Neither are you.” My uncle stands and kisses my forehead. “I have a lunch date to get to.”

  “Anyone I know?” I joke as I start to organize his desk.

  My uncle pauses as he slips on his jacket, a twinkle in his eye.

  I regard him quizzically. “Now what’s that look for?”

  He just pouts his bottom lip and shakes his head. “What look?”

  “Uncle John-” I raise my eyebrows like I know he’s playing me.

  “Good Bye, Alana,” he responds lightheartedly and heads for the door.

  “Bye Uncle John.”

  “Oh, by the way,” he taps on the door frame. “The job will be waiting for you when you get back,” he says, then disappears.

  I smile. Christmas just came two days early this year.

  “I feel terrible leaving you,” I tell Ryan as I slip on my jacket.

  “It’s only for a few hours, and then you’ll be back in my clutches,” he grabs my hips, digging his fingertips into my waist.

  “If it were up to me, I’d let you hold me for ransom.”

  “Hey, your father is rich enough, he could pay,” Ryan jokes.

  Every year my family has Christmas dinner at the Waldorf Astoria. My uncle and his partners rent out a small ballroom for the entire firm and their families. It’s been a tradition for as long as I can remember. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of Emily and I all dolled up in beautiful Christmas dresses, running around an extravagant ballroom decorated with twinkling lights, elegant trees and lavishly
wrapped presents. They’re also the nights I remember my mom most vividly. She was so striking, big blue eyes and long blonde hair just like mine. And when she smiled it felt like an embrace; the love just wrapped around you.

  “Hey?” Ryan rubs my cheek, “Where’d you go?”

  I look up at him, I didn’t even realize I was daydreaming. “I was just thinking about my mom.”

  “You miss her?”

  “Tonight I do.”

  “I know how you feel.”

  “Then why don’t you go see your mother Ryan? It is Christmas after all.”

  Ryan shakes his head, “I’ll call her, I’d much rather be alone with your pathetic excuse for a Christmas tree.”

  “Can you stop hating on the tree?”

  “I can’t, it looks like the Grinch stole Christmas in here.”

  I roll my eyes, “What can I say? I’m no Martha Stewart.”

  “Clearly not,” he gives me a quick peck on the mouth and then off I go.

  I hop in the cab and stare out the window as it heads toward the Waldorf. I’m dressed in a long, dark blue, formal party dress, with a five point criss-cross back. It’s elegant with just a hint of flash. My hair is down and wavy and my makeup is only slightly dramatic; too over the top and my father will be displeased. And nobody wants that, especially me. I think about Ryan as the lights on the crosswalks flash and people walk by. He’s only seen his mother a handful of times over the last few years. Her birthday, a holiday here and there, but for the most part he avoids her. He still holds so much resentment. I know what she did was wrong, begging him to take Sean’s place, but he has the one thing I would give almost anything for; a mother who’s living, breathing, flesh and blood.

  I finally encouraged him to go see her breaking the -by that time- ten month strike. It wasn’t easy for him and he came home a mess, but at least it opened up a small line of communication for them.

  I live in the city and I’m the last one of my family to arrive, go figure. My uncle John and aunt Caroline, Emily, Alex and my father are all seated around a gorgeously set table in the middle of a small ballroom. Wait staff with white gloves and silver trays are floating around the room serving hors d'oeuvres and pouring drinks, while Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas plays in the background.

  I sit down to four warm smiles and one brooding face.

  “Nice of you to join us, Alana,” my father says coolly.

  “There was traffic, I’ll leave earlier next time,” I say apologetically.

  My uncle shoots me a clandestine look, no doubt thinking that I won’t be seeing my father next Christmas, or any other Christmas, after he finds out I ran off to Vegas with a male stripper.

  The night breezes by as we dine on an extravagant dinner. As the first course is served - baked pear and roasted beet salad - the conversation at the table flows steadily. By the time the main course arrives - Beef Wellington atop whipped mashed potatoes with a side of brussel sprouts and candied cranberries in a sweet brandy glaze - my father has gone into depth about his latest courtroom endeavors and newest investments. Emily feigns a yawn at me. My father is not the most social of butterflies, and casual conversation is sometimes difficult for him. Sports Center and reality TV don’t rank high on his TiVo list. He is brilliant though, and along with being a judge, he’s a shrewd businessman who loves the stock market. Dessert is served and it’s a holy experience on a plate; decadent chocolate cake topped with peppermint drizzle and a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.

  I almost can’t believe how fast the night has come and gone. Because before I know it, my father is helping me slip on my coat. We walk silently, side by side through the lobby of the hotel. It’s all high ceilings and beautiful white marble.

  “Alana,” he stops me, just before we walk outside into the cold city air. “I’ve secured you a job after you graduate,” he says in his businesslike demeanor.

  “A job?”

  “Yes, in the prosecutor’s office.”

  “The prosecutor’s office?” I repeat, watching my tone. “I barely know anything about criminal law.”

  “You’ll learn, you’re smart and on the job training is the most informative classroom.”

  “But daddy-”

  “Alana,” he silences me with sharp breath. “You will accept this job I went out on a limb to get you. It will be a stepping stone into a judicial position.”

  “A judge?” I’ve never even considered the possibility; I want to litigate big cases for huge corporations and high profile clients. I don’t want to try criminals, carry a huge caseload or be pigeonholed. “Daddy, I don’t think-”

  He interrupts me again, “Alana, I don’t think I was clear. You will take this job, otherwise you may find yourself in the bursar’s office explaining to them why a tuition check never materialized.”

  I shut my mouth immediately. This is my father, truly and fundamentally. I see red as I look at him, but I keep my emotions in check.

  “Yes, daddy,” I submit, and then turn to walk out of the building.

  “Alana,” he calls before I make it to the door. I turn to look at him and he’s digging around the inside pocket of his long formal dress coat. He pulls out a small box, “Merry Christmas.” He holds the present out in the palm of his hand, it’s wrapped in shiny silver paper with a glittery gold bow. There’s not one ounce of emotion on his face as I stand there staring at his offering. I finally take the gift and open it. Inside is pair of large, square, diamond studs. They’re absolutely flawless and reflect off every light in the room.

  “They’re beautiful, thank you,” I say honestly, because they are and I love them, even though I hate him right now.

  “They were your mother’s,” he says aloofly, and then walks out the door.

  My heart aches I miss her so much.

  I stand there in the middle of one of the world’s most renowned hotels, and watch as my father slips into his town car. I feel nothing but utterly numb, emotionally segregated and physically dismissed as dozens of holiday happy people come and go around me. I stare down at the little piece of my mother I’m holding in my hand, and wonder how in the hell did a woman like her ever love a man like him.

  I walk into my dark apartment. It’s only 11:30, I didn’t expect Ryan to be sleeping. Suddenly lights pop on, Christmas tree lights.

  “Where did that come from?” I ask surprised. Gleaming in the middle of my living room is a six foot, fully decorated tree.

  “You needed a better tree.”

  “The Grinch’s tree just wasn’t cutting it for you, huh?”

  “Nope, from now on, real trees taller than us. It’s a stipulation.”

  “A stipulation for what?” I inhale lightly, catching the delicious scent of pine.

  “For the future.”

  “That’s becoming your favorite word lately,” I sigh, slipping my coat off, and then my shoes.

  Ryan looks at me with an anxious expression, “Alana, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything. The future,” I groan as I walk across my tiny living room and take a seat on the floor next to the tree, my ball gown pooling around me.

  “What wrong with the future?” Ryan sits down next to me. He’s wearing slim blue jeans and large collared sweater.

  “Nothing, except…it’s going to get really ugly, really fast.”

  I look up at the tree, Ryan really outdid himself. It’s decked out in classic Christmas colors; red and green ornaments with a glittery gold ribbon wrapped diagonally down it. With perfectly spaced lights and evenly distributed ornaments, he concocted an aesthetically pleasing visual like only a master artisan could.

  Talented is too puny a word to describe his ability.

  “Did something happen at dinner?”

  “Dinner, no? Dinner was wonderful, it’s what happened after dinner.” I tuck some hair behind my ears and show him my mother’s earrings.

  “Holy shit, did your father give you those?”

  “Yes, right aft
er he threatened me.”

  “Threatened you?” Ryan sits up straight; the lights from the tree casting beautiful shadows across his concerned face.

  “Not physically.” I put my hand on his chest, “Easy there killer. He got me a job in the prosecutor’s office and he basically told me if I didn’t take it, he was going to hold back my tuition. Which means I wouldn’t be able to finish law school.”

  “Jesus Christ, Alana.”

  “I know,” I drop my head into my hand.

  “What are you going to do?” Ryan’s voice is worried.

  I look up at him emotionally exhausted, “I’m going to accept the job, finish law school and then take off with you.”

  “Really?” he says surprised.

  “Yes, that’s the plan right? I just hope you’re prepared, because come May, my life is going to get messy. I’m not going to have any money, or a job. Or even a place to live for that matter.”

  Ryan nods his head fervently, “Yes, baby, whatever you need.” He pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

  I drop me head onto his shoulder. “You’ll take care of me,” I repeat forlornly.

  “Is there a problem with me wanting to take care of you?” Ryan asks critically.

  “No, it’s just not how I pictured my liberation going.”

  “Yeah, well, the best laid plans, right?”

  I roll me eyes resigned, “I guess.”

  “It will be okay. I have some money saved and we have a few months to plan. Just concentrate on finishing law school. That’s what’s important.”

  “I know, but I shouldn’t have to saddle you with my fucked up family drama.”

  “Alana, you’re not saddling me with anything. And if anyone understands fucked up family drama,” he scoffs, “it’s me. This is exactly why Vegas is so important. I don’t ever want you to feel like this.”

  “And how am I feeling Ryan?” I look up at him, knowing he knows.

  “Alone.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly how I felt when I walked into the room, but not anymore.”

  He kisses my head gently, and I snuggle into him.