Smoldered

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Asher can go home to Lila, for all I care.

  FRIDAY MORNING came too quickly. I had eaten dinner with Lynx and my son the night before, giving him extra hugs, even though he had no idea why. My meddling sitter/houseguest tried to pry at bedtime, curious as to why I was home for dinner and not out with Asher as the two of them had originally conspired, but I’d held up my hand and shooed Lynx away. I didn’t have it in me to even mention his name without breaking down and crying, and I was sick to death of tears.

  Now I had to drop Quinn at his camp program, get a quick eyebrow wax, pick up some clothes for my job at the Kitty, and get to work. With a big party on my agenda, I didn’t allow myself a moment to dwell on the man who ran away from me—over and over again.

  I had a bachelor party coming in that had requested me. Lots of men who were running toward me rather than away from me, wanted me to share my body with them, had money and wanted to spend it on letting their hands linger on me. It wasn’t much, but I would take it.

  It was all I had.

  Even though I wasn’t speaking to her, Lynx was doing camp pickup and dinner with Quinn. I drove to work with the music turned up, trying to pump myself up for the night, forcing myself to think of dollar bills and men in suits. But all I saw was ripped jeans, boots, and a lightning-bolt tattoo.

  Entering my latest place of employment, I took in the garish purple-draped walls, the ridiculous sparkling Christmas lights strung along the ceiling, and the cheap furniture made of faux pine covered with vinyl. I hated it. As I stared at the long fake white marble staircase that led upstairs to the VIP areas, I actually craved the run-down Leop with its no-frills approach to stripping. The Tunnel was something different altogether. It was five-star, class all the way, navy leather and dark brown mahogany, the Ritz of strip clubs, the Leop being a motel and the Peppermint Kitty nothing but a foolish imposter.

  I didn’t have time to dwell on the decor. I needed to make money, so I headed back to the large communal dressing room. Another difference between the Tunnel and this hellhole.

  Oh God, I really hope I don’t do this comparison thing all night.

  Not having time to do much more than touch up my makeup and get changed, I was out on the floor within forty-five minutes of arriving. In no time I had already snagged someone to entertain before the party, a looker who smelled like money.

  The tall, strong man in a custom suit was already five lap dances in when he suggested we head to the “champagne rooms,” which was just another way of saying a room where we could bend the rules a little.

  The guy actually wasn’t half bad looking, but he was bubbling over with excitement like the suds spilling from the complimentary champagne the club doled out upstairs. There was no mystery as to why he was so charged up; it was clear he didn’t get much action outside the club.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  I didn’t have to ponder this for very long. As soon as we were situated on the lilac banquette in the back corner of the champagne room, a new song came on—“Everything Zen” by Bush—which was funny because nothing was Zen about what happened. I was climbing his body, my knees braced on his, my high heels jutting behind me. Leaning in, I ran my chest along his as my tongue peeked out, running around the edge of my glossy, red-painted lips. He reached forward as though he was going to touch my hair or my neck, and I let him proceed.

  Instead he dropped something out of his sleeve and before I knew it, he’d clicked some collar contraption around my neck before hooking his finger through it and pulling me closer so he could bite down on my neck. Immediately, I tumbled over, my body filling with anger and rage, then I righted myself and full-on slapped the dude, my bracelet catching his cheek and drawing blood.

  Good. Motherfucker.

  Within a moment, Brad, the upstairs bouncer, had restrained the asshole and was walking him out, demanding the key to the collar.

  He didn’t have it. The police were called, the guy was searched, and he was telling the truth. He really didn’t have it.

  I ended up in the emergency room where they had to cut the thing off, so I missed the big bachelor party and my chance to make big bucks.

  I was starting to hate Florida.

  Home is Where the Heart Is

  Asher

  Las Vegas

  “WANT ME to come in?” Mike asked as he pulled up in front of my Vegas house. The reality that I owned a home in the desert and rented a mansion on the Florida coast suddenly seemed hysterical. Laughter bubbled up my throat as I said, “Hell no.”

  “You sure you’re okay, man?” Mike brought the big SUV to a stop and turned to face me. I must have looked like a freak—smirking, giggling, and cursing all at once.

  “Yup,” I said as I jumped out of the truck, slamming the door behind me.

  Choosing the front door over the back one, not wanting Lila to know I was home, I planned on self-destructing. I didn’t want Mike or my fair-headed neighbor seeing me like that, now or ever.

  After pushing the door open, I immediately kicked it closed behind me. I disabled my alarm before I grabbed my phone in one hand, dialing both the solution and the cause to my problems.

  “Hey, Pen.” I paced my large hallway, waiting for her to respond.

  “Asher? What’s up? What’s wrong, babe?”

  “Oh, not much. I’m back.” My boots fell heavy on the marble floor.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, ‘oh’ sounds about right. So, I guess you know it all. I got a bastard kid with Natalie. Did you also know I knocked her up during a threesome I don’t remember?”

  “Ash—”

  I sat down on the bottom step and stretched my legs out in front of me. “Yep, I did. Drunk, high on coke and God knows what else, I screwed Natalie over a decade ago and we made a baby. A boy. Looks just like me. At least from the picture I saw. I’ve been living down in Florida, hoping she would let me meet him. She didn’t. I don’t deserve to.”

  “Aw, sweetie, don’t say that.”

  “Nah, it’s the truth. I’m a big-time fuckup. Look at what happened to my club and my guys when I up and left. Fucking Petey is laying in a hospital bed with tubes sticking everywhere. Did you hear that too? He could have died. Mike is a goddamn mess, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing.” I punched my hand into the nearby wall, cracking the paint and plaster. Blood burst from my knuckles, marking the ivory-colored paint like the scarlet letter I left on Natalie.

  “Do you want me to come over? Asher?”

  As I walked into the kitchen, thinking of the morning Natalie sat naked on my counter, I barely heard Penelope asking if she could come over. I was a desperate, broken man with nothing to give or offer my own son. And I just accidentally met my own father for the first time in thirty-plus years. My self-pity knew no bounds. My pride was so far gone, I wasn’t sure it would ever be resurrected.

  “Sure. Come on over. Bring an eight-ball, Pen. Don’t come without it,” I ordered, then hit END CALL.

  I couldn’t ask her to bring another girl. The act of being with two women would forever be tainted; it was inevitably what broke Natalie and me apart. It would also be unrivaled, because the same type of proclivity ultimately gave life to my son. There was no way I could straddle those two opposite ends of a continuum with a mediocre excuse for a ménage anymore.

  I was giving that shit up and getting acquainted with my old friend: Mr. Blow. As in white lines, not getting my dick sucked.

  Roaming the house, waiting for Penelope, I decided to put the hunk of junk on the market. It held too many bad memories, and it was an empty, void shell. Like me.

  I hadn’t even been there when Natalie found Penny and Larken in my bed, but the thought of it was enough. The place was haunted with bad karma. I talked to Beck Hadley here, made plans to meet up so I could learn about my son from that sack of shit. The woman I loved was destroyed within these four walls.

  The mini-mansion was meant for a family but served as a vapid space with
unfilled bedrooms, ones my son could have slept and played in if I wasn’t such a waste of a man. Just like the man I came face-to-face with only an hour ago, the big, strapping, sorry excuse of a father of mine. Unfortunately I was just like him, and I needed to blow that theory wide open. With an eight-ball of coke.

  I pumped the music up high, blasted the air-conditioning, and got started on a special bottle of single-malt scotch while waiting for Little Red Riding Hood to arrive with the Big Bad Wolf’s treat.

  THINGS WITH Penny didn’t go as planned after Lila interrupted and insisted I kick the bitch out. Too caught up in all my own drama, I didn’t think the girls would turn on Penelope, but they did. The waxer had just started to tell me she lost all the business of the Tunnel girls, carefully planning her own pity party, when my neighbor burst in unannounced through the side door.

  After a minor mishap with the coke—none of it ending up my nose and all of it landing on the floor—Lila showed the redhead the door, kicking it closed on her ass. Then I spent the night curled up in a ball with my head on Lila’s lap. Something I had never done, and would never admit happened.

  The woman who had been the only constant in my life for the last seven years stroked my back and told me everything would work out. Except she still didn’t know about Quinn. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about him, revealing exactly how much of an absolute loser and a fuckup I was.

  Lila offered to call Carson over for a drink, but I declined. No way I was letting another bro see me like I was. I was a first-class mess. Afraid to even look at myself, I stayed on the ground where I deserved to be, like a dog.

  Knock, knock. Who’s there?

  Natalie

  Miami

  I WASN’T allowed to work on Saturday. My new boss forbade me to come in, paying me for the weekend up front with tips added in, saying he wanted me to rest, put my feet up, forget about what happened. In other words, he wanted to be sure I wouldn’t make a big deal, cause a commotion, or bring bad publicity to his club.

  He had nothing to worry about because I wasn’t going to do any of that. All I wanted was to work my tush off, forget what happened, move forward and onward. Which was becoming a recurring theme in my life.

  Snuggled on the couch with Quinn, both of us in old sweats and T-shirts, watching a movie, trying hard not to be aggravated with…well, with everything, I heard a knock at the door. My skin broke out in goose bumps at the possibility of it being Asher. Could it be? Did he come back?

  Although it wasn’t the same banging from his first visit, my heart raced, pumping and pounding, fluttering at the small chance it was him on the other side of the door. My whole world crawled in slow motion as I felt my hand wander to my neck to clutch my hamsa. My brain turned sluggish as my mind ran through every possible scenario.

  Forgetting who was sitting with me until it was too late, I froze to see Quinn rush to the door in anything but slow motion, yelling, “Who’s there?”

  I jumped physically and mentally out of my fog, and called out forcefully, “No, Quinn. Let me handle this. Go back to your room. Now.”

  “Mom, come on. I’m a big kid. I can ask who is at the door,” he said while standing firm, hands on his hips, staring me down before he turned back to the door.

  We both yelled, “Who’s there?” in unison.

  A quiet voice came back through the door. “Sienna.”

  I mumbled, “What the fuck?” to myself as I slipped by my son, tucking the stubborn kid behind me so I could answer the door.

  “Mom!”

  “Sorry, Q. I’m not myself today, but you stay behind me. It’s for your own good,” I said, rumpling his hair before turning the lock.

  Looking like a stunning tourist in dark skinny jeans, a fitted white tank top, and espadrilles high on a wedge, Sienna stood there with her blond hair falling loosely down her back, a perfect shade of pink on her lips.

  “Sienna? What are you doing here?” I said without moving, blocking her view of the boy she had never met.

  “I needed to see you, talk to you. Nat, I need to explain in person what’s been happening back home,” she said, never taking her eyes off me.

  Suddenly I realized her eyes were green and not blue. Feeling myself sway, I gripped the door frame, my brow furrowing.

  “Are you okay, Nat?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. You look different, I can’t put my finger on it. Is everyone back in Vegas all right?” A shiver shot down my spine, traveling the whole length of my body. Something was wrong.

  “It will be—eventually. Listen, can I come in? So we can talk privately?”

  When she inched her way closer, I held up one finger and said, “Give me a sec. Let me get Quinn settled.” I shut the door quickly because my son, who had no clue what had been going on, was jumping all around, full of curiosity about who was at the door.

  Very quickly, I promised him a trip to the arcade if he went back to my room and finished the movie there. Quinn let out a little whoop of excitement and took off toward my bedroom.

  After clearing my throat and wiping the fine sheen of sweat off my forehead, I reopened the door and stepped out into the Florida heat. As if I already didn’t feel like I was choking, the humid air took up residence in my throat, clouding my eyes and slowing my thoughts.

  I leaned back against the warm wall while taking a calming breath, then said, “I’m so confused, Sienna. Why are you here? And why are your eyes green?” I looked up, focusing my gaze on the pretty blonde.

  She moved over to the wall and stood next to me, shoulder to shoulder, not eye to eye anymore. Looking straight ahead, she said, “I’ll get to my eyes in a minute. They have nothing to do with why I’m here. Asher needs you, Natalie.”

  “Ha!” I laughed as the word burst out of my mouth. “I doubt that. I’m sure you know he was here. Ran out of here like a tourist to a free buffet as soon as he got a phone call from home.”

  She leaned into me, grazing my shoulder with hers. “Seriously, Natalie. He’s in a bad way. I know he didn’t explain why he left…which is why I’m here. We need to talk. Can we go inside and sit down?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Just get it out. I really have no idea why you think Asher needs me. We are nothing to each other. Really.”

  Still not entirely sure how much everyone back in Sin City knew, I didn’t want to risk Sienna finding out about Quinn if she didn’t know.

  Turning her shoulder into the wall, Sienna faced my profile. “Please, Natalie, you know he cares for you more than anyone. Why else would he have been down here in Miami, sweating bullets, other than to get you back, salvage what you two have between you?”

  Before I could answer, the door swung open with such force it hit the wall behind it. “Mom, that movie was awesome! There’s a second one! Can I rent it? Please, Mom.” Of course, Quinn picked the most inopportune time to poke his head out.

  Sienna’s head whipped around and although she was trying to whisper to herself, when she said, “Now I know why he was down here. Son of a bitch,” it came out much louder.

  A lethal gaze fell onto me from my former coworker and Asher’s closest friend. I wanted to turn away from the death stare, but I couldn’t because I was guilty of what she was thinking. I had hid Asher’s son from everyone, but more importantly, I’d hid him from his own father.

  Without moving, I said, “Sure, baby,” to Quinn. He didn’t seem to feel the tension. Pleased as punch I was allowing two movie rentals in a day, he ran inside before I changed my mind.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God,” was all Sienna kept repeating while gripping the wall she now turned to face.

  “Listen, Sie, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that. I’m shocked you didn’t know about Quinn—after all, he’s what brought Ash down here. Not me. Definitely not me. He’s got someone new back home anyway. Lila. I’m sure you know.”

  The tiny force whipped around, grabbed my arm, and whispered to me in the angriest tone I’d
ever heard from her. “No, I don’t know, Nat, because I am Lila. Me. You see, I came from an abusive background. My husband was beating the shit out of me until I escaped and came to Vegas. Asher took me in and created Sienna, with blond hair and blue eyes. Then when you flew the coop and ran out of town, I was kidnapped—I’m sure you heard that part—by my ex. I was drugged, brutally assaulted, and manhandled across state lines. That’s why Asher didn’t come to you right away. He and Carson had to find me. Thank God, because I was almost raped.”

  Her chest was heaving so hard, I could see the outline of her heart beating through her fair skin, racing a mile a minute. Worried she was going to pass out, I said, “Calm down, Sie. I didn’t know any of this.”

  “Well, that’s obvious,” she replied through heavy breaths.

  “Still…Asher didn’t sign up to have a kid or anything when he slept with me on a whim, fucking me without a condom during a drug-induced threesome. Did you hear that?”

  I had to move, so I started pacing. Turning on my heel, I didn’t wait for an answer before I said, “So if you’re Lila, and you’re here, what the hell is going on back home?” For the first time since moving to Miami, I yearned for home—Vegas.

  Sienna took a wary step toward me, steadied her breath, and said simply, “Petey happened.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  She put her arm around me and explained. “Petey was in a horrible accident while chasing the guy who tried to force drugs on you. He came back to the club, wanting in, and when they said no, he pulled a knife before running and Petey followed. A car came speeding out of nowhere and tipped onto Petey, his leg got clipped by the bumper or something. He’s in the hospital, pretty out of it. Asher blames himself because he was here with you. Mike blames himself because—I don’t know why. Not sure what’s going on there.”