Felicity Stripped Bare

by Vanessa Jaye

  ***

  Felicity arrived uptown at The Uptown. Late. Again. Moving quickly, she kept her head down, shoulders trussed with tension, eyes averted from the stage.

  She braced for Tony’s first sarcastic salvo as she scurried past the bar with an apologetic smile. He didn’t smile back. Instead she felt his guillotine gaze, multiplied repeatedly in the mirrored walls, track her progress to the Employees Only area in the back.

  The tiny change-room cum storage-room was in a state of chaos as usual. Girls in various states of undress; clothes, shoes and jackets strewn around the place. Makeup, curling irons, hairsprays and hairpieces scattered on every available surface. The air was blue with smoke and thick with a miasma of warring perfumes.

  Cheryl, wrapped in a silk kimono robe and perched on the space-hogging meat freezer, looked up from checking her face in a hand mirror. “Fil baby, you’re late.”

  Felicity dropped her knapsack, then unzipped her jeans, kicking her shoes off at the same time. “Thanks for the tip,” she said, turning sideways as Tasha, a skinny dancer with a silicone addiction, squeezed past her.

  “Tony’s in a bad mood today,” Tasha warned over her shoulder, then started pounding on the bathroom door. “Marie, ya been in there forever. I gotta go!”

  “He’s liable to rip into ya like toilet paper at a diarrhea convention,” Cheryl added.

  “So what else is new?” Felicity wiggled out of her jeans.

  “That would be one-ply,” Cheryl clarified.

  They all burst out laughing and Felicity felt some of her tension ease. This feeling was still new to her, being part of the group if not exactly friends. Sharing the camaraderie, if not her deepest secret. Then again, she sensed that they all had their secrets.

  Felicity pulled on a pair of black satin short-shorts, what passed for a uniform at The Uptown, then tried to work her foot back into a laced-up running shoe before giving up. “Shit.”

  Cheryl pounced. “What was that I just heard from your born-again mouth?”

  “Did you hear anything?” Felicity asked the other girls.

  A chorus of negatives responded. She smirked at Cheryl. Their bet was back on.

  She braced her foot on the freezer and undid the knot. Retying was trickier.

  “What are you doing there, Fil, making them gift-wrapped?” Cheryl teased.

  Heat washed over her and her fingers fumbled with the laces. It was grade school all over again, the things other kids found easy-peasy never failed to cost her twice as much effort.

  She was always the last to finish the math sheet. Her spelling tests were always half-done. And she absolutely refused to read out loud, preferring detention instead. Feeling stupider and stupider until they finally figured out what was wrong with her. Dyslexia.

  “Forget this.” She tucked the laces inside her shoes; she’d do them later without the audience.

  “So why are you late this time?” Cheryl asked.

  Felicity’s lip curled. “Daniel.”

  “Oh?” Cheryl perked up. “What happened?”

  She could only guess what gutters her friend’s mind currently waded through, Lord knew she’d charted enough of them herself. She bent and tucked the laces in the other shoe.

  “It’s what didn’t happen. He was supposed to have my shower fixed. Sez he’s coming tomorrow. Gee, I’ve only been complaining about it for the last two friggin’ weeks— Friggin’ is not a swear word!” She rushed to make the save when Cheryl’s face lit up again.

  “Not much of one anyways.” Marie finally exited the bathroom; Tanya scooted in.

  Cheryl pointed to the room at large. “Y’all are conspiring against me.”

  Felicity stashed her knapsack in her locker. “I’m outta here. See you up front.”

  Before she reached the lounge area, she checked around, then carefully took her time to tie both laces into perfect bows. Feeling absurdly proud of her small accomplishment, she continued down the hall. Every little victory counted. She had never given in to the lure of Velcro, and she never would.

  Felicity waved to Keith as she passed the DJ booth, then made a quick note of the stripper on stage. The more popular the girl, the more drinks were served. Which translated to more tips for the waitress. Even after a year, she was still tickled with the extra cash she was making. Not enough to save, but she was eating better and she’d been able to indulge in her one passion, decorating.

  Where before she’d stuck with yard sales and Goodwill, lately she’d begun visiting a few secondhand shops. If you didn’t mind digging through the dust and haggling a bit, there were some good finds to be had.

  Speaking of finds, Felicity found some courage and approached the bar where Tony’s massive presence presided like one of those creepy Easter Island statues—ready to topple her ass flat.

  He picked at something caught between his teeth with a long pinky nail, while holding the ever-present cigarette between thumb and forefinger. His raisiny eyes peered out at her from the smoky nimbus that wreathed his head.

  Felicity tried to slip past him to grab an apron from under the counter, but he seemed disinclined to move his bulk out of her way.

  “Look, I’m sorry I’m late. My shower broke and…”

  He stopped picking and flicked away his findings. Felicity didn’t look where, afraid she’d see the thing scuttling off. The cigarette now clamped in the corner of his mouth, Tony began pulling a draft.

  “Dis is for table tree.” He jerked his head towards the main seating area. “Den go see what Al’s doin’ wid the wings for table ten. I already told him I want none of this gore-may shit. Just cook the bird till it stops clucking an dish it up.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  He placed the mugs on the tray with the rest of the order.

  “And tell Tasha to get her ta-tas up here. She’s on next.”

  Felicity nodded and made a move for the aprons again. Tony braced his muscular arms on either side of the narrow aisle, blocking her. Right. She’d get one later.

  “Oh, and Felicity.” He sent two plumes of smoke streaming from each nostril. “Your shift starts at five.” He pointed to the beer-can shaped clock behind him on the wall. “That’s five my time. Capisce?”

  “Understood.” She grabbed the tray. When she was safely out of Tony’s hearing, she said a few more things under her breath that he would capisce.

  ***

  Felicity shifted in her seat. Her butt hurt from sitting on the hard plastic library chair and her feet still throbbed from last night’s shift.

  “Let’s finish this chapter.” Lise tapped the page Felicity had been struggling through. “You’re doing so well with your consonant blends today.”

  “Whoo hoo.”

  “Felicity,” Lise chided.

  She hunched her shoulders and stared down at the page. Attempts at sarcasm aside, a little glow came to life inside her at Lise’s praise. She was making progress.

  Sometimes it didn’t feel that way. More like just one continuous struggle. Felicity renewed her focus, breaking down the syllables of the next words, sounding them out. The glow dimmed. Progress was not only slow, it was boring.

  She rubbed damp palms against her jean-clad thighs and keeping her voice low, read on. Even though she and Lise had a fairly isolated table by the windows, Felicity was aware of the people in the stacks who were blithely choosing books that she could barely skim through.

  Instead, she was stuck reading The Grimm Brothers’ Fairytales. Felicity squirmed in her seat again, a coil of despair twisting her gut. She flipped ahead a couple of pages.

  “Is there a story in here about a princess who ran away from home, looking for adventure, but ends up working for an evil chain-smoking ogre?”

  “Then her Prince Charming arrives on his white steed?”

  “With a satchel full of books on tape.”

  Lise laughed and sat back in her chair. “I guess that means we’re done for today?

  “Well to answer
your question, no. Because the princess didn’t run away to have adventures. I’d guess she ran away from a lot of unhappiness.”

  Felicity dropped her gaze.

  “But there is a happy ending. The princess realizes her full potential so when Prince Charming does show up, she can read the pre-nup he tries to foist on her.” Lise chuckled and added with a tiny grimace, “Sorry, just a little lawyerly humor.”

  “You’re a lawyer, too?”

  “Oh dear me, no! I used to teach, as I mentioned before. There’re enough lawyers in our family.” Lise’s expression sobered a bit and she fiddled with a heavy gold knob at her ear.

  “Although there’ll be one less soon.” A frown pleated her brow momentarily, but just as quickly she pasted on a bright smile. “Speaking of careers, how’s work?”

  “Fine.” Felicity wasn’t exactly ashamed of Tony’s, but the less said about it the better. In fact she was a bit bemused over how Lise had managed to get so much personal information out of her already.

  “It’s a bar uptown, isn’t it? You know, I wouldn’t mind dropping by for a glass of wine one day.”

  Lise, with her discreetly expensive clothes and swingy salon hair at The Uptown? Even more laughable, Tony serving a wine that couldn’t also be used as a stain remover? “Er, I don’t think you’d feel comfortable there, Lise. Really.”

  “How bad could it be? Yonge Street is quite nice up there.”

  Agreed. The north Toronto neighborhoods were very nice. But every apple had its worm, and Tony had composted his little piece of real estate just fine.

  “It’s a real guy’s place.” Felicity kept a straight face.

  Lise wrinkled her nose. “Oh, you mean sports. Well, we’ll meet for coffee, then. We could even go now.”

  She bit back a groan. In the months since they’d started the sessions, Lise had made several attempts to take their relationship beyond student/tutor. The friendship thing didn’t come easy to Felicity. Not even with Cheryl had she completely let her guard down.

  Then again, maybe that was the best argument for having a cup of coffee with Lise—she knew Felicity’s little secret.

  Yet, Felicity couldn’t quite shake off years of conditioning. Lise was poised, educated and well-off. Tick the “not” box for each of those items on Felicity’s list of accomplishments.

  “Maybe next time?” she offered, thankful she had a real excuse for begging off. “My landlord is finally coming around to do some repairs.”

  Lise masked her disappointment at being brushed off again. “Then we’re definitely on for next week. Promise?”

  She accepted her fate in the face of Lise’s steamroller determination. “Promise.”

  “Besides I wouldn’t want to keep you from being home when your pathetic excuse of a landlord shows up. From what you’ve told me about him, he wouldn’t come by again for another month.”

  Felicity pursed her mouth. And clenched her thighs. Daniel had that effect on her.

  Lise patted her hand. “Poor dear.”

  Chapter Two

  Ping!…Plop!…Ping!…Ping! Ping!…Thop!

  Felicity stopped stirring her mac n’ cheese to study the pots, pans and bowls scattered around the kitchen—searching for the culprit. Thop! There it was again.

  She moved towards the window overlooking the deck, eyes shifting between the plastic mixing-bowl and the saucepan placed on the floor.

  Thop! There, dead ahead, a tiny spray of water misted the air just behind the bowl. She nudged the bowl over with her foot to catch the rogue drip, and thought of another place she’d like to plant her foot: squarely on the firm butt of Dan the not-so-handy man.

  It’d been two whole weeks since he’d promised to come by. It was too dangerous to go out on the roof with all the rain they’d been having, he claimed.

  Well she had news for Mr. Moseying Mackenzie, landlording was a dangerous occupation—shocks from fixing faulty wiring, or irate, waterlogged tenants pushing you off leaky roofs. All in a day’s work as far as she was concerned.

  The vague thumping overhead indicated Daniel the Delayer was out there now, risking life and limb to investigate the leak. The man was a jerk. Yummy chocolate-coated good-looking on the outside, chewy-moron center.

  An ominous popping sizzle had her hotfooting it back to the stove, but not before she caught sight of movement outside the window. The screen door opened a second later and Daniel stepped inside the flat.

  “There’re a few loose shingles and some damage to the substructure. We’ll have to redo that section of the roof.” He stepped over a pot, while he scrutinized the ugly brown stains on the ceiling.

  As he studied the damage above their heads, she continued to study him. Call it Hunkology.

  A faded pair of paint-splashed jeans, ripped at one knee, emphasized the lean muscular length of his legs, while his sweatshirt did little to hide the powerful breadth of his shoulders and chest.

  Then there was the hair—he wore it in a topknot, secured by an elastic band with various pencils sticking out of it. He should’ve looked ridiculous, but the scraped back hair only emphasized the masculinity of his face.

  A finger of disturbance pressed into her chest. His looks were too stark to be handsome, but his mouth was beautiful, kissable, sure. That beautiful mouth was moving now.

  “The damage’s pretty bad, but I think you’ve seen the worst of it.” Daniel’s gaze suddenly met hers. And held. His expression changed.

  Awareness raced over her skin. Uh-uh. No way, buddy. Rather than respond to the smoldering speculation in his eyes, she said, “Really? Because I still have a container or two not on leak duty.”

  “Maybe you’re better off collecting water in them, if that’s an example of your cooking.” He nodded towards the pot she’d stopped stirring minutes ago.

  “Oh, shhhhip-diddy.” She snatched the saucepan from the stove and placed it on the tiled counter. Did I just say ship-diddy? “I like my Kraft dinner well-done.”

  “Riiight,” he said, wide-eyed and sounding like he was talking to some lunatic.

  Daniel looked around, then reached for the mop propped in the narrow space between the counter and the window wall. She was about to tell him not to bother cleaning up when he raised the mop and tapped the ceiling.

  “Heads up!”

  She jumped back as Daniel’s warning was followed by a loud whoosh and a curse—that wasn’t ship-diddy.

  Hand pressed to pounding heart, Felicity took in the counter now covered in bits of plaster and dirty water, then looked up at the new hole in the ceiling, dripping water in a more efficient stream than the previous multiple leaks.

  “Thanks a lot!” She waved her hand at the now ruined—okay more ruined—meal. “You could’ve let me get my dinner out of the way first.”

  Thoroughly irritated, she tried to snatch the mop from Daniel’s grasp. He pulled back. She tugged at the handle again, but to no avail. With a final jerk he wrenched it out of her hand. By his expression she thought it prudent to take a backward step. But not to shut up.

  “You never get anything done around here.”

  “And how the hell am I supposed to do that, when you’re always complaining about something new?”

  “Face it. You’re a lousy landlord.”

  “And you’re the tenant from hell.”

  “W-what? Me? Well you—” she blanked for a second, “—you suck!” She pointed a nail-bitten finger at him. “I bet you’re just trying to drive me out of this apartment.”

  An odd expression crossed his face.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m onto you, Mr. Sucky. You want me out so you can jack up the rent.”

  Daniel’s brows raised a notch, then he threw back his head and laughed, baring strong white teeth. “Mr. Sucky?” He laughed some more, but as his chuckles grew softer, his eyes narrowed.

  Felicity, sensing the danger, stepped back.

  Daniel, sensing a kill, stepped forward. “I am not trying to drive you out of this apart
ment.”

  He kept coming; she retreated till she hit up against the fridge. With Daniel towering over her, Felicity had to tilt her head back to glare up at him, which really wasn’t satisfying. Glaring down was much more effective—like what he was doing right now.

  He leaned forward and placed his hands either side of her head on the fridge. His face was inches from hers, his eyes pinning her to the spot. “You, on the other hand are driving me nuts. And it’s proving to be A. Very. Short. Ride.” Each word was squeezed through clenched teeth. Then Daniel’s gaze slid down to her mouth and lingered.

  “Absolutely nuts,” he repeated huskily as he bent a little closer. His lips parted as they hovered just above the tip of her nose, the curve of her cheek, then whisper-close to her temple, skimming the surface of her skin in a rustle of warm air through fine downy hairs. Then his mouth was a heartbeat, a finite moment in space and time, away from hers.

  “Don’t.”

  “Are you sure?” Each word was a little caress.

  She stared at the promise of those lips a moment longer, then with a groan ducked under his arm and moved rapidly away on shaky legs, putting the width of the counter between them.

  Daniel sighed and shrugged, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I’ll have a couple of the guys over tomorrow to start repairs on the roof.”

  Felicity nodded, squashing the flare of disappointment she felt that he wouldn’t be returning himself to do the work. They stood there awkwardly for another minute.

  “Let me buy you dinner.” He was leaning against the fridge now, but somehow his casual stance didn’t ring true. His gaze was too watchful. “I didn’t set out to ruin your meal, but I haven’t had dinner either since I rushed right over here—”

  “Rushed? I called you weeks ago.” The mute shock his invitation had caused vanished.

  “And weeks ago I couldn’t get here. I’m here now. The ceiling and the roof will be fixed.”