by Ashley Logan
Andy’s words ring in my ears. You should be proud of everything you’ve accomplished.
The sickening feeling stays firmly in the pit of my stomach. The same feeling plagues me every time I have a chance to think.
I am proud of most things I’ve done. The lies don’t sit well, but they’re necessary. The stripping doesn’t sit well, but only when I think about telling my family about it. The stripping is actually what’s keeping me sane, I think. It takes away the stress about money and it lets me express myself in a way that I just can’t bring myself to do off-stage.
The dancers at Beyond understand this. They feel similarly. The club is a therapeutic environment provided by Prez for exactly that purpose - expressing our sexuality in safe surroundings to make sense of it, or gain control over it. Each of us is working through some inner turmoil created by our sexual experiences. Shuddering, I sit up straighter in my seat.
When it comes to sex, I don’t have much experience at all. I’ve had sex with one man. Just one naughty weekend changed my life. It was nothing like in the movies, and I didn’t love him, but I didn’t hate the sex. I’d been a bundle of nerves the first time, but once we got past that, it felt disturbingly good - which is why I have not slept with anyone since. It shouldn’t have felt that good.
I don’t deserve to feel good about it.
Wiping at my cheeks, I navigate the streets of Buffalo, trying to think of anything but sex.
Can you be a sex addict if you don’t actually have sex? After one terrible taste, I crave it all the time. I’m sure if I started drinking, I’d be able to think of nothing but drinking, which is why I’ve never touched a drop. I’m genetically predisposed. I don’t want to be like my parents; abandoning what truly matters because I can’t resist my vices.
Dancing.
Dancing is what will get me through.
Pulling into the alley behind the club, I park next to Benji’s Mustang. Clutching the photo of the kids to my chest, I grab my suitcase and head to the back door.
Dropping my gear on the way through the empty club, I climb up on stage, already scrolling through the playlist on my phone. Taking off my boots and socks as the music starts to play, I strip off my winter layers until I’m dancing in leggings and a tank-top, then I let the music take me wherever it will.
Eventually collapsing in an emotional heap, I feel better. Still not okay, but better. Good enough to live with myself until the next dance. It doesn’t escape me that dancing is in fact my vice as well, but at least it doesn’t hurt anyone.
Except it would hurt my family, if they knew the kind of dancing I was doing.
Resting my head against my knees, I try to breathe calmly as my stomach twists and fresh tears bubble up. Why do the things that feel good have to be so bad? My fingers clench and unfurl before they start tapping against my leg. I miss my family already and need my city substitutes.
Pushing myself up to go and find some people, I reach for my boots and stop.
“Do you feel any better?” Scarlett asks, glancing at Bruno and Alexa before taking a step closer.
Wondering how long they’ve been there, I wipe my eyes. Pushing the heartache down, I focus on my boots instead. Sitting back down, I pull them onto my feet for something to do, yanking the laces and tying them too tight. “Yeah. Thanks. I just...” Just what? “Didn’t get many opportunities to dance while I was gone. I missed it, I guess.”
“You missed sexy dancing?” Scar repeats, her expression one of worry.
I lighten my tone. “Yeah. And now that I’ve danced, I miss my family. Such is life, huh?” Coming down the stairs, I drop my coat to the floor and step into their welcoming arms, letting myself be hugged. “I was just about to come find you guys and give you hugs. You saved me the trip.”
“We’re good like that,” Bruno says, wrapping his huge arms around all three of us girls. “But you can tell us the truth, Kat. What happened while you were gone?”
Sometimes I hate how caring and perceptive my city family is. Sighing, I pull back, but remain quiet.
Lexi looks to Bruno and Scar before taking my hand. “We only ask because we care. You’ve never danced like that after a trip to Franklinville. Did something terrible happen? Are Tim and the girls alright?”
Nodding, I look over to the bar and then scold myself for even thinking about wanting to try a drink to make talking easier. “They’re fine. It was... I... I saw Andy.”
“Andy?” Bruno says, checking the girls’ expressions for signs that they recognize the name.
“Boy next door Andy?” Scar asks slowly, her eyes becoming wider when I nod again.
Lexi squeezes my hand and leans in closer, her long blond hair tickling my arm. “And?”
“He kissed me.”
Both Scarlett and Lexi jump up and down on the spot like school girls, before bombarding me with questions.
“Was it good?”
“How steamy on a scale of 1-10?”
“Did he still look gorgeous?”
“Do the kids know? What did they think?”
“Did he ask you out? Where has he been all this time?”
I look to Bruno for help. He places a calming hand on each girl’s shoulder and clears his throat. “Did you want him to kiss you Kat?”
Shaking my head, I take my hand back from Lexi, pick up my coat and walk over to my other gear.
“Why not?” Scar asks, following me. “I thought you loved him.”
“I did,” I reply, picking up the photo frame. “I do. I just can’t be with him, so I didn’t want to know how good his arms would feel around me, or how soft his lips are, or how good he tastes.”
“Why can’t you be with him, Kat?” Lexi asks, coming up behind. “You deserve tasty kisses.”
“Not with him,” I reply firmly, pulling my coat on so I won’t have to carry it. I reach for my suitcase, but Bruno gets there first.
“I’ll see you girls upstairs.” Flashing me a sympathetic smile, he escapes with my luggage, leaving me with two blond terriers that refuse to drop the topic.
“Why not him?” Scar asks.
Her uncharacteristically soft tone scares me a little. I look to the exits. “Because.”
“Because why?” she presses, her green eyes pinning me.
“Because I fucked his dad! Okay? You understand now? It can never happen. I’m a horrible person, and I don’t deserve him, because I fucked his father.”
Both girls are slack-jawed and speechless. Bet they never expected that from Saint Katarina! Moving away, I head for the front door of the club. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll see you later.”
Still holding the picture frame, I shove it in my coat pocket and step out onto the sidewalk. The air is crisp and feels icy in my lungs, but I suck it down to quench my thirst for oxygen. I can’t seem to catch my breath. With my guilty heart pounding in my ears, I start walking.
Most of the snow has melted and my boots splash through the puddles left behind. Every now and then, I come across heaped piles of stubborn snow and take great pleasure in booting them into oblivion. Is it sad that I find such joy in the murderous task? Every time I kick the clumps into dirty-white explosions, I feel better about myself. Surely that’s unhealthy. I should stop. It’s childish.
Turning the corner, I meet several more humps tidied to the edge of a parking lot. They almost make a wall and the way the snow is melting, it’s formed little peaks along it, as if it’s formed a line of frozen soldiers defending their territory. They taunt me. Laying into them with my boots, I leave icy carnage splattered across the wet concrete, and again take pleasure in not only the initial destruction of the snow soldiers, but also their secondary death as the smaller remnants begin to slowly melt.
Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself as the hairs on my neck begin to prickle. Looking around, I see why I feel as though I’m being watched.
CHAPTER NINE
From over by the big roller door to a warehouse, Lennox Green is wat
ching me most intently. The realization of where I’m standing slams into me like an avalanche, causing me to gasp. This parking lot backs on to his warehouse; the one that houses his green maze of glory. Looking back to the mess I’ve made, I wish I could shrivel up and die alongside the obliterated snowmen.
Not only has Lennox seen me throwing a tantrum, but I’ve managed to undo his heroic efforts of hand-shoveling the snow aside for his customers. I’m pretty sure there’s a law that says he has to keep the snow shoveled too. I’m such an unhelpful shit!
I look up as I hear his footsteps come to a stop in front of me. Lennox surveys the scene again before his eyes return to me. His brows draw down strongly, but he shifts slightly to the side and holds out his hand as if to help me step out of the snowy mess I’ve made. Taking his hand as if I were a lady being helped from a carriage by a gentleman, I let him lead me off the icy battlefield as I grope for the right way to apologize for my behavior.
“I didn’t mean to ruin all your hard work, Lennox. I’m sorry. I’ll shovel it again. I’m sorry you had to see that. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize where I was; I just wanted to kick their stupid heads off. I’m so sorry! And embarrassed. So horribly embarrassed and sorry,” I prattle on as he leads me up the short ramp and into the warehouse.
The smell of fresh vegetation hits me as we move out of the loading area, through a large doorway with those heavy plastic curtain strips and into his warm emerald city. Surrounded by green life, I fall silent as he tugs me down one aisle, around another, and into what could be the far corner of the warehouse, where the green is all around me. It’s all very disorientating, because my eyes are glued to the man who’s leading me.
His silence leaves my mind to fill in the blanks.
He’s mad. He works so hard and I’ve gone and made more work for him. Those dark eyebrows were meant to alarm me and I’m being dragged to the nearest snow shovel before being marched outside to shift twice the amount of snow as punishment for my misdemeanor. He’ll probably watch to make sure I do it to his satisfaction. Gasping at myself, I try not to dwell on why that turns me on.
Guiding me to sit on a park-like bench, he crouches in front, looking me square in the eyes.
“Are Tim and the girls alright?”
Surprised by his soft tone, I see now that his dark brows are drawn in concern. I nod slowly.
“Your friends at Beyond?”
Again, I nod. His brows drop further.
“Something has happened to the girls at the Salon?”
Squinting at him a fraction, I shake my head.
“Marv? Or Rocky maybe?” When I don’t respond, he continues. “Manzelli? Tyrone? Any of the homeless you care for on your regular beat?”
My voice cracks when I try to speak, but on the second attempt I manage to tell him that as far as I know, everyone is fine.
This information only seems to trouble him more. Resting an elbow on one knee, he strokes his beard as he regards me carefully. I watch his hand as if hypnotized by its movement.
Lennox Green is a tasty slice, but when he’s looking at me all worried and confused like he is, his hotness escalates dangerously. My eyes enviously follow his fingers as they brush over his beard and I grip the bench to keep myself rooted to the seat, because all I can think about is running my hands through his perfect hair and tugging his bearded face to mine. My fingers want to trace the vines weaving up through the densely tattooed jungles of his burly arms, set on tugging them around me. He can take it from there... rip my clothes off and bend me over this bench maybe, or pull me down to the grass beneath his huge feet. He’s wearing boots, but they’re rather large, so I can only assume his feet are too. There is something seriously wrong with me. Lennox says something, but with my circuits going haywire, it doesn’t compute. “Pardon?” I say, still looking at his boots, because something isn’t quite right about what it is that I’m seeing.
“It’s you.”
“What’s me?” Staring at the grass a moment, I remember that we’re inside. Why is there grass inside? I look back to Lennox, even more confused. Immediately distracted again by his strong jaw and broad shoulders I utter an unintelligible squeak of helplessness.
“You’re not worrying about the others for once. It’s actually you that’s not alright,” he clarifies, that look of concern deepening as his eyes scan me from head to toe. “What happened? Someone bother you?” He bristles as he says the words, and I shake my head quickly, wondering what he’d do if that were the case. I’m ashamed to admit that protectiveness only enhances his already potent effect on me.
“An accident?” he continues, his eyes scanning me again as he shakes his head. “Your hands are freezing and you’re not dressed for the weather,” he says as his eyes linger on my open coat.
My steamy thoughts are getting the better of me. Suddenly feeling as if I’m roasting alive in the humidity, I shrug out of my coat and hold my half-frozen hands to my face to help cool my cheeks.
“Are you sick?” he asks, touching the back of his hand to my forehead. “Oh jeez. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re sick. You’re mad you won’t be able to keep helping the way you do, because it’s serious. Oh shit, it’s serious. You’re not going to die, are you? Please don’t die, Kat. What can I do to help? What do you need? A kidney?”
Dumbfounded by his concern, his undeniable sweetness and the fact that he has again said more words in a row than I’m used to hearing from him, I just stare at him, taking him all in.
He hasn’t even mentioned a snow shovel. Querying the well-being of all the most important people in my life, he’s concluded the reason I’m upset is that there’s a problem with me. Of course there is, but not a medical one. “Did you just offer me your kidney?”
“Do you need it?” His lips press together as his wide eyes meet mine.
Even as I’m shaking my head ‘no’, my hands release their grip on the bench and grab his shirt collar. Pulling his face to mine, I plant a kiss right smack on his mouth. It’s not a gentle kiss - which is what I might have imagined if I was thinking straight; or thinking at all. This is an all-out ‘take me, I’m yours’ kind of kiss, and it takes us both by surprise.
Lennox almost loses his balance as he pulls back; his beautiful toffee eyes impossibly large as he stares at me.
My hand flies up to hide my lips. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that!” My hands search around me, grabbing my coat. As I stand, Lennox follows and seals my mouth with his. The coat slides from my fingers, forgotten as his big arms pull me closer.
If my spontaneous kiss said ‘take me, I’m yours,’ then his spine-tingling response is ‘I’m taking you, you’re mine!’
Selfishly, I let it happen. I shouldn’t, but it feels too good to give up. Rough and needy, but soft and searching, all at the same time, I can’t help but go weak at the knees. Of the few kisses I’ve received in my life, this kiss causes the most spectacular response within me. By far. This kiss is my new benchmark by which all future kisses will be measured. This is the kind of kiss I didn’t even know I wanted.
With his fingertips in my hair as his hands cup the base of my skull, Lennox induces pleasurable fantasies that leave my own hands searching his hard body for something to hold on to; something real. Moaning, his lips leave mine to trail kisses down my neck and I shiver as his beard grazes against my skin. The feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced and my head tilts back involuntarily to give him better access; anything to make it keep going.
Stop! My brain reminds me that I haven’t been honest with Lennox. He doesn’t know what kind of person I am inside - if he did, he wouldn’t want to be doing this with me. I can’t think of a self-respecting man that would. Even if Lennox seems as though he’s had a wild streak once upon a time, he has a stable life; with a child. I can’t screw that up.
Pressing my palms to his broad chest, I push backwards, breathing hard. “Stop. Lennox, I... I can’t do this. I don’t do this,” I correct
myself, smoothing down my clothes as his chest rises and falls with his own rapid breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... I should go home.” Home. To where I just destroyed the person who my friends thought I was. Now they know I’m a despicable fake. A girl who would betray someone she claimed to love.
I can’t seem to get my breathing under control and when I reach for my coat, I drop it twice before Lennox helps me by holding it up while I get a grip.
Once the coat is in my hand, I don’t want to put it on. I’m hot. Too hot. I don’t want to go home and deal with everyone’s disappointment. I carry enough of my own already.
Lennox seems to sense my hesitation. Running a hand through his hair, he brings the same hand to his lips and exhales through his fingers. Guiding me gently back onto the park bench, he kneels in front of me again.
“Wait here?”
Nodding, I wait on the bench, feeling much like I had years ago, when sent to the office to see the school counselor. As he disappears behind a wall of green, I stare at my boots, contemplating my inevitable assessment. Taking a shuddering breath, I stare at the ground beneath my boots.
My eyes begin to focus enough to see every blade of grass. My boots are on grass. The puzzling thought from earlier returns, distracting me from my inexcusable behavior.
Looking around, I see that I’m sitting in a garden. An indoor garden. There are actual trees, and flowers, and a fountain trickling in the corner.
What the hell magic is this in the middle of winter? In the middle of the city?
The air is fresh and fragrant. What is that smell? Following my nose, I kneel in the soft grass, bending to the clusters of beautiful multicolored bells. Mom’s hyacinths won’t be out for a few months yet, but these are in full bloom.
Looking up as I hear the scuff of boots on cement, I watch Lennox step onto the grass holding a tea tray. Setting it on the small table next to the park bench, he avoids my eyes and makes a cup of tea with milk.