Felicity Stripped Bare

by Vanessa Jaye

  “I don’t want a roommate,” she said firmly. “Now, c’mon, tell me what I may be getting myself into.”

  “It’s different things to different people, Fil.” Cheryl shrugged. “Some girls get sidetracked. Know what I’m saying?”

  She nodded. In the short time she’d worked at the club, she’d seen girls come and go. For some The Uptown was just a pit stop on a downward spiral into their own personal hell. She swallowed, rubbing suddenly damp palms on her thigh.

  “Getting up on that stage, particularly the first time in front of all those strange men… Do you really think you can do it?”

  She’d been asking herself the same question for the last two hours as she worked her tables. Normally Felicity focused on taking orders, and paying close attention to the different-colored bills and different-sized coins as she made change. But for once she noticed how all those strange men’s expressions were carefully neutral, while their eyes told the truth. Eyes that touched and probed and fondled.

  Pushing aside her unease she countered, “How do you do it?”

  “For the same reason you want to—money. I make a nice chunk of cheese doing this and I figure I got a couple more good years left before my titties droop so bad I can tweak my nipples between my toes. Then it’s retirement time.”

  She eyed Cheryl’s small, firm breasts—which seemed to be holding up the two flimsy scraps of blue satin, rather than the other way around.

  “Only way you’re going to be doing that type of tweaking, is if you’re double jointed.”

  Cheryl waggled her eyebrows.

  “Get out!” Felicity gave her a playful push. But she wasn’t entirely sure her friend was joking. She’d seen her act.

  Cheryl hopped down from her perch. “Think about your decision long and hard. And then think some more. Just remember I’m a feature dancer. I do my routine and that’s all I do to pay the rent. Those other girls—and by ‘other’ I mean ‘you’, if you’re serious about this—make most of their money from private dances…and sometimes other things. Think you can handle that Miss I-Wanna-Be-A-Strippa?” Cheryl winked before she sashayed back to the vanity and resumed touching-up her makeup.

  As Felicity left the change area, feeling much worse after their talk, she swore she heard a low-keyed “fool” muttered at her back.

  ***

  “That bastard!”

  Three for three.

  Lise was pure outrage, her green eyes snapping with anger. “Well you can’t let him get away with this.”

  Felicity stopped pushing the cart. They were shopping for groceries at a Loblaws superstore—another one of Lise’s exercises. Normally, Felicity went to one of the small greengrocers along St. Clair Ave., where she could quickly walk the short aisles and pick out her needs by sight. This place was something else. The million different signs and endless shelves of products gave her a pounding headache, never mind the way her feet still ached from her shift. But Lise’s outburst brought a smile to her mouth.

  “Well, there’s not much I can do, is there?” Felicity picked a box off the shelf, making only a halfhearted attempt to sound out the brand name in her head.

  “But he toyed with your affections!” Lise pointed out in a tight voice.

  She put the box back, thank God for logos and pictures. “I doubt that’s covered under the Landlord Tenant Act.”

  “Then we’ll just have to find something that is.”

  “Lise I really appreciate you being ticked off on my behalf,” she mustered up a smile, “but he’s right, I won’t win.”

  “So this is your response, giving up without trying?”

  “I’m not a quitter. You know that,” Felicity said quietly, on the defense.

  “I do know.” Lise gave her hand on the cart a little squeeze. “That’s why you should fight this. At the very least it could buy you some time. You did say you needed to save more for moving…” Lise said all innocence.

  She could use more time to save.

  “And in the meantime you could make his life sheer unadulterated misery. I’ll ask one of my husband’s associates—”

  “Wait! I can’t afford a lawyer.”

  “No, no.” Lise waved her protests away blithely. “We’re just going to get some tips on how to make this joker really hurt.” Her green eyes glinted with determination. A bit of it rubbed off on Felicity.

  “Yeah, make the joker pay.” She held out her hand. “Let’s do it!”

  Lise ignored the hand and wrapped her in a hug. Felicity felt warmth blossom deep inside her. The last time someone had hugged her with any affection was…Daniel. Her heart lurched to a stop and she squeezed the other woman tight, then embarrassed, she released her and laughed to cover up her awkwardness.

  “I think you’re looking forward to this more than me,” she said, noting the pleased flush on her tutor’s face.

  “Sweetheart, I live for these battles of the sexes.”

  Things happened pretty quickly after that, with Lise directing the show. Felicity spent a frustrating afternoon down at City Hall, picking up the proper forms. Fortunately, a helpful clerk helped her with the paperwork, so she didn’t have to bother Lise with it. Unfortunately the plan to organize a tenant’s association never got off the ground.

  Moog was going on tour with his band, so he’d been ready to give up his lease anyway. Mrs. Rogers, the cat woman from downstairs, was resigned to move in with her sister. And the immigrant couple upstairs were from a place where troublemakers were “disappeared” in the middle of the night. So no help there.

  Felicity nibbled on a cuticle as she peered out the window checking for Stuart’s SUV. She was thinking about the difference a month and a half made. Had she actually contemplated stripping? And here she was still taking Daniel on in a battle he’d ultimately win. But she was buying time. And today she’d buy a little more with a bit of mischief her partner-in-crime had cooked up.

  A rare-for-her-lately smile tugged at her mouth, but it was tinged with sadness. It wasn’t all fun and games for Lise. There were too many times Felicity had looked up to see sympathy in her tutor’s gaze—she knew Felicity still hurt.

  ***

  Daniel sat on one of the raised concrete vents that lined Queen Street, separating the green space of Nathan Phillip Square from the sidewalk. He placed his can of pop down beside him as he bit into one of the juicy kielbasas he and Rob had just bought from the roadside van. His partner was making similar short work of his own sausage.

  “Cheers.” Rob held up his coke. “Here’s to renovations starting next month.”

  Daniel tapped his can against Rob’s. “Don’t go celebrating just yet. Something tells me my tenant from hell isn’t quite finished roasting our nuts.”

  “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire—” Rob started warbling.

  “Quit it.” Daniel put the can down beside him on the ledge and double-checked that his tie was tucked in. Last thing he needed was to show up at the office with grease spots on him.

  “Whatever you say, Scrooge. The point I was trying to make is, it’s the end of the line.” Rob jerked his thumb towards the famous curved towers of City Hall behind them. “Once you give her the copies of the Application to Terminate and the Notice of Hearing, badda-bing, badda-boom. Game over.”

  “Then badda-bing, badda-boom, she files another dispute and this little war continues.” Daniel looked down at the meat in the bun he held, his appetite fast disappearing. How the hell had it come to this?

  Two months ago he was spending at least two evenings a week on Felicity’s flea-bitten couch, with her snuggled up against him while they watched TV. Then there was the impromptu trip to the zoo because neither of them had been since they were kids; he smiled remembering their shared laughter when she’d had to flee one of the suddenly amorous peacocks that roamed the grounds.

  And what about the Saturday she’d dragged him to the mall to shop for a new pair of jeans to replace the ones that the latex paint hadn’t come out
of after all? Normally he would’ve opted for a root canal before he’d go shopping with a woman. Normally. His smile faded.

  Nothing had been normal when he’d been with Felicity. He could see that now. Daniel tore a chunk of bun off and threw it at a group of nearby pigeons.

  “Hey, don’t go feeding the vermin. They’re all going to come over here.”

  “I bought you lunch didn’t I? But now that you mention it, you are sitting a little too close.”

  “Blow me.”

  “Bite me.”

  Rob belched. “Sorry.” He took a long, noisy swallow of his pop. “Look, even if Felicity disputes this, it’s still the end of the road. Man, I don’t even know how it got this far, but she has no more cards to play. End of the month she’s out on her keister.”

  “You know, you don’t have to sound so goddamn happy about it.” Daniel let the reins he’d been clenching so tightly slide a bit.

  “That’s right, buddy,” Rob said real quiet. His dark eyes narrowed and bored into Daniel as he wiped at his mouth with a napkin. “I was wondering when you’d get around to placing some blame.”

  The thunderous rumble of a passing streetcar complimented the rage buzzing in Daniel’s head. Hell yeah, he so wanted to dump a whole shitload of blame on Rob. Instead he looked around for a nearby garbage can and lobed in the remains of his meal. He took another minute to steady his breath. Finally he said, “Sorry, guy.”

  “Accepted.”

  Silence, deeper than the sounds of the city, enveloped them.

  Daniel picked up his pop, but he didn’t drink. “You’re right. I want to blame anyone else for my fuck-up.” He still wasn’t looking at Rob, so it was easy to add, “I think I lost something special.”

  “You can try explaining to her again.”

  Daniel laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, right. You think she wants to listen to me after all this?”

  “You could always lay siege.”

  “What?” Frowning, he turned to Rob.

  “Lay siege. You know, all that old-fashioned crap. Chicks just eat that stuff up, man. Wear her down. Do the flowers, the chocolate, the mea culpa thing—you know, all that shit.”

  Once again he had to wonder at his friend’s apparent success with the opposite sex. “That’s your advice? Lay siege—”

  “Gesundheit”

  “—and all that shit?”

  “And all that shit.” Rob nodded emphatically with each word, a smile flashing from the framework of his goatee. Then his expression froze and he plucked the can out of Daniel’s hand. “No time like the present.” He jerked his chin; Daniel’s gaze followed.

  Felicity. Emotion fisted into his chest. He watched sunlight slide in a silky sheen over her chestnut hair, then the familiar swing of her hips as she walked to the lunch van, and the fist turned into a blade of pleasure that sliced through him.

  He wasn’t aware of standing, only knew he was drawn to her like a moth to an inferno.

  “Felicity,” he said when he was close enough to touch her.

  She spun round, eyes wide in a blanched face. And she melted. For one precious moment he saw her gaze soften and her lips part. For one hellish hanging-on-a-prayer second her body swayed towards him. Then she recalled what he’d done and who he was.

  “What do you want?” she snapped. “Or did I save you a trip to drop-off the latest round of paperwork?” Her mouth twisted with an edge of bitterness he’d never seen before.

  “It didn’t have to go this way, Felicity.”

  “So, it’s my fault you’re an asshole?”

  “Look, we’ve already established I’m the bad guy here, I’ll get out my black cape and you can nail a cross to your door.”

  “There’s just one problem with that.” She assumed a look of mock horror. “Oopsie. I don’t have a door. At least I won’t if you have anything to do with it.”

  “Felicity, there are other apartments.”

  “But that was—is my home, Daniel. My home. You ruined everything,” she said in a broken whisper that almost broke him.

  Then it clicked, really clicked. All her little comments about the neighborhood, and her pleasure and pride in decorating the tiny flat came back to him.

  He understood about having something to call your own. About putting your heart, sweat and dreams into it, and having someone want to take that away. Like his father wanted to do to him. Like he’d done to Felicity.

  Chapter Ten

  “Excuse me, folks, what can I do you for?” The lunch van guy stuck his head out the service window, intruding on their brittle little drama.

  Hanging onto the edges of herself like they were parts of a too tight garment, Felicity ordered fries and a couple of colas.

  When Daniel didn’t move, she turned on him. “Is there something else?”

  His lips thinned, but he didn’t say anything, just reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out a thick white envelope that he passed to her.

  She’d called it, hadn’t she? Had she really been hoping there was another reason he’d approached her? She pushed aside her pathetic disappointment and took the envelope from him.

  Felicity stepped back, a clear signal for him to leave, instead she was the one brought up short as she bumped into another body. She turned to apologize, but the words died on her lips.

  “Ma,” she croaked in surprise.

  “Felicity. I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure. I—we,” her mother glanced behind her, “haven’t seen you in so long.”

  She followed her mother’s gaze to the man standing several feet away. His open windbreaker emphasized the broad shoulders and barrel chest that demanded obedience. His iron gray hair, still in the same old military buzz, was as uncompromising as his demeanor. Him. Bitterness welled up unchecked.

  “Don’t,” her mother said in the same whispery voice that used to tell bedtime stories and promised things would get better, until Felicity was old enough to recognize the fairytales and promises were one and the same. Lies. Only she hadn’t truly learned that lesson. If she had, she’d never of believed in Daniel.

  She turned away but Daniel was still standing there, open curiosity on his face, until his eyes met hers, that is. Then the change in that deep green gaze caused her heartbeat to machine gun and her stomach to roll. She quickly looked back at her ma, who rushed on in a torrent of words.

  “Your da’s been at it again with the neighbor about the fence. He’s come down here to have a word with our city councilor.” Her ma tittered jerkily, playing with the top button of the faded yellow cardigan she wore over a neatly pressed blouse and pleated skirt.

  “I wish he wouldn’t fuss so. Such a fuss over nothing.” She colored, shooting a guilty look at her husband who’d started towards them. Hurriedly she asked, “So how are you then, Felicity?”

  “I’m fine.” She forced a smile.

  “You could always come back. You know, back to the house.”

  How was this for irony? She was being forced to leave the home she loved, and invited back to one she loathed. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea, Ma.”

  “I know you and your da have had your differences, but he only wanted what was best for you. You have to understand that Les was disappointed in your behavior.”

  “It wasn’t my behavior, it was me.”

  “Well, if you’d been a bit calmer, acted more ladylike, things would’ve been just fine.”

  Her mother had never understood.

  “Well, look where I have to come to lay eyes on me own flesh and blood.” There was no joy in her da’s greeting, but Felicity tried to keep up appearances.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “‘Hi Daddy, Hi Mummy’, now is it? You have a funny way of acknowledging your parents.” Leslie Cameron looked her up and down. “When was the last time you darkened our doorstep, or called to see how we were getting along? As a good daughter would see fit to do.”

  “I call,” Felicity began heatedly. “I ca
lled…”

  The last time she’d called her parents had been months ago.

  “Your ma and me know just when you last condescended to call. Seems as if you only do so when you’ve gotten yourself in a spot of trouble.”

  “I was not in trouble.”

  “Janice said you wanted to come home.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Are you calling your ma a liar?” he snapped.

  “I didn’t say that either! You’re putting words into my mouth.”

  “Well someone has to put them there, seeing as there’s nothing in your noggin.”

  “Felicity?” Daniel stepped closer. Of course, she’d been aware of him all along, but now she felt protected by his solid presence pressing lightly against her back and the quiet comfort in the way he said her name.

  “Hi, I’m Daniel Mackenzie.”

  His outstretched hand was ignored by her father. “Have a new one already, eh? What happened to that Stuart fella?”

  “I’m Felicity’s landlord.” There was an edge to Daniel’s voice that she barely caught as she swallowed a hysterical bubble of laughter. He said it like it meant something, when it meant jack-all.

  “Landlord, is that right? Well so was her last one, in a manner of speaking.” Leslie Cameron dismissed Daniel as he addressed her. “Why don’t you do the decent thing for a change? Empty-headed or not, you’ve got your mother’s looks; at least get a ring on that finger instead of whoring around. Even your ma was smart enough for that.”

  Janice Cameron’s face blanched and humiliation washed over Felicity for both of them, but she felt Daniel leaning into her, antagonism practically vibrating off him. She turned, placing a hand against him. “Daniel—”

  “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Your daughter is my tenant. What gives you the right—”

  “Daniel, please,” she begged.