by Nicky James
The entire time I played at him, his humor remained in place. It helped me relax and I continued to wash dishes—and rinse them—with a much lighter mood, no longer overly concerned of being judged.
Once the kitchen was spotless and we had nothing more with which to distract us, the awkward silence from earlier returned. Remy guided me back into the living room and encouraged me to have a seat on his couch.
I tucked my mismatched socks under my ass, feeling a little self-conscious, and fidgeted with my hands in my lap, afraid to touch anything.
“Wine?” Remy asked before joining me. He stood near a cabinet in the corner of the room which contained a variety of bottles of wine and glasses.
I crinkled my nose and shook my head. “No thank you. Never acquired a taste and I don’t drink much away from work, honestly. Don’t need to.”
The smile he’d held most of the evening faltered with my statement and my mind backpedaled trying to think of some way of correcting what I’d just said. My gaze zipped all around the room and fell to three neatly stacked piles of magazines under his coffee table, all with the same name.
“Is this your magazine? The one you work for?”
Forgetting his offer for drinks and the temporary tension that had risen from my statement about work, he crossed the living room and sat beside me.
“It is.” He pulled one from the top and handed it to me. “Been with the company since day one. I’ve always been strictly an editor, but last month, after my trip to Italy, I wrote my first article on my home town.” He thumbed through until he found it and tapped the page.
There were a few accompanying pictures and I examined them first. Did he want me to read it?
I dashed a quick glance beside me, the look of pride answering without a doubt. I thumbed to the next page to see how long it was—four pages—before turning back to the beginning. I was starting to wish we’d just talked about my work. At least he knew the shit that went down there and it’d had time to sink in.
I started the article from the beginning, focusing intently on each word and concentrating on the meaning behind what I read. Two paragraphs in, my cheeks burned and I bit hard into my lip. I knew I was reading too slow. I always read too slow.
Shrinking down on the couch, aware of Remy’s eyes on me, I tried to read faster. That never worked. The words became harder to decipher and my habit of skipping over them to get to words I knew kicked in, making the article lose all meaning.
Before I was halfway through the first page, I closed the magazine in frustration. My mind raced for an excuse, a reason, anything to get me out of having to read. “I… Can I take it home to read? I didn’t bring my glasses, it… it’s straining on my eyes.”
There was a long pause where I wished I could disappear. Why did everything I tried to say and do come off as stupid?
“Sure. I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
Five minutes ago, I didn’t. It’s a new thing.
I made a mental note to buy fake glasses at the drugstore in case it ever came up again.
Smiling sheepishly, an odd guilt settled into my body for having lied to him. “Umm… Yeah, just for reading.” I truly hoped to look endearing and cute, but when his smile didn’t return, I faltered and looked away, tucking the magazine tight against my side. My knees bounced as I skipped my gaze everywhere but at him.
“So,” I continued, fishing for a change of subject. Desperately needing something different to focus on. My mind blanked and I glanced back to where Remy watched me. His skepticism was written all over his face. My shoulders fell, knowing he wasn’t buying it. The night was a mess.
“I… umm… I guess you probably won’t be back in anymore, huh? To the club I mean. Since this whole non-date thing has just been one awkward moment after another.”
I tried to laugh, but my nerves had me wound so tight it came out sounding painful. Forgetting the magazine, I jumped up and moved to the door. “I’ll catch a bus home. Thanks for dinner and all that. It was really good.”
Three steps from the door, he spoke.
“Do you know why I come every weekend to see you?”
I’d learned quickly, Remy was a man of few words, but when he spoke, what he said was generally important. Stilling, I turned. He stood from the couch, taking me in. Like I stood naked under a spotlight, his gaze pierced me as though reading into my soul. He didn’t smile, instead a trace of concern slipped into his eyes before he hid it.
Rooted to the spot, I held my breath and watched him. He closed our distance on steady, assured feet.
“Do you know why?” he repeated, his voice hushed, accent thicker than usual. I’d noticed that it seemed to intensify when he spoke seriously and became less pronounced when he relaxed.
“No, not really.” He’d given me a few reasons when I’d asked before, but none of them seemed to be the real reason. I shifted under the weight of his analysis and looked away. “I mean… You don’t seem to wanna fuck me like everyone else—which is good, because I’m getting so sick and tired of that shit. I know you wanted to date, but I’m not exactly dating material. And now that you know the finer points of my job, I assume that desire has likely vanished. So, I have no idea why you keep coming back. We aren’t alike, so that can’t be it either. All I’ve done tonight is succeed in making myself look like an idiot. You’re all Mr. Clean, Germ-o-nator and I’m just a disorganized mess who can’t even wear socks that match. You’ve seen my apartment. My brother calls me a whore, and as much as I hate him for it, the truth is, he isn’t wrong. I’ve lost track of the amount of men I’ve been with. So, no, I have no clue. None at all. If you never came back to the club again, I’d understand.” I let out a relieved breath, looked up and shrugged. “And I don’t wear glasses. I lied. I just don’t read well. I’m stupid, okay? Now can I go home?”
Dark eyes radiated sadness, and his forehead creased. His hand came up and instead of the two-finger hold under my chin like he’d done before, he cupped it in his much larger hand and traced his thumb along my jaw.
“You’re stunning, Soren, inside and out. Do you know that?”
Under his touch, my mind and body weakened and tore itself in two distinctly different directions. A small part of me warmed beneath his gentle caress and confident words. It disrupted my thought process and played games of what if in my mind. But, the other part of me—the much bigger part—was so ashamed to be standing there. Who was I kidding? I’d never be anything but a stupid whore.
“Soren,” he continued, “when I first laid eyes on you, I couldn’t deny my attraction. Your looks are staggering. But, do you know what drew me in more? You radiated personality. It was enough to leave an impression. When I ran into you at the bar, I couldn’t help but want to learn more about you.”
“But I wasn’t even nice to you.”
He chuckled. “I know, but your quick wit, sarcasm, and sass you carry around everywhere you go makes me crazy. You aren’t stupid, I assure you. Then I saw you smile. You served a table of young men that night and I watched the tension my presence brought drip away, and you smiled. Did I go back looking for you, even after you expressed no desire to have dinner with me? Yes, I did. Did I find out where else you worked and seek you out, even though every fiber of my being hates walking into places where cleaning habits are questionable? I did. Did I hope maybe you’d give me a chance once you got to know me better?” He paused, his dark gaze consuming. “I did.”
I couldn’t look away, his hand moved to cup my cheek, fingers brushing against my nape as he continued. His face was only inches from my own.
“You love to dance and were never given an opportunity to explore that dream. You have a brother who you care for very much but who has hurt you probably more than you admit. You have a sister waiting for her first born and parents who have been less than loving. Your favorite food is pizza, but sometimes Ashton makes you eat it so much you get sick of it, but you’d never tell him that because it might hurt his feelings.
You want to travel someday and see the world.”
With every statement, my heart drummed faster. The backs of my eyes stung; the air I took into my lungs burned hot.
“The second night I went to The Escape, I learned what went on there. I saw a fear in your eyes that has haunted me ever since. The following night, I returned…” He paused. I knew that night, remembered it like it was yesterday. It was the last time I’d needed to do anything demeaning that I didn’t want to do. That night, he’d come too late.
Remy licked his lips and swallowed with difficulty. His voice dropped below a whisper. “I can’t stand the thought of those men putting their hands on you. You… It’s not what you want, but it’s what’s expected of you, isn’t it?”
All I could do was nod as I fought off the tears burning my eyes.
“You get high to manage, don’t you?”
Again, I nodded. I wanted desperately to explain that it was a new thing and I didn’t like it, that I couldn’t get through it any other way. But, my tears loomed on the edge of my vision and I feared bringing voice to my thoughts would spill them.
He’d come every weekend since that one night he’d been too late. Never once missing a Friday or Saturday. Not once had there been any expectation. Our date—not date, it wasn’t a date—had been my idea, not his.
All those things he said. The stuff he knew about me. He’d been paying attention, like it was somehow important to him.
Like I was important to him.
“You… You like me?” The shock in my voice washed the concern from his face and he smiled again. It lit up his eyes as he took in every curve of my face.
“That’s what I was getting at.”
“But I’m a—”
Quicker than I could finish my sentence, two fingers came to my lips, silencing me. “Do not say what I think you are going to say. Never again do I want to hear you refer to yourself in that manner. And let me tell you something, if I ever meet your brother, I’ll be having a word with him. Believe me.”
As he removed his fingers, his gaze fell to my lips and lingered. Heat germinated in my core and coursed through my veins. I thought he was going to kiss me, but a fraction of a second later, he stepped back and averted his attention elsewhere.
A deep chasm of silence ate all noises around us. My chest hurt from having held my breath and it took me a minute longer to realign my thoughts.
What just happened?
I rummaged through my scrambled brain looking for something to say, but Remy beat me to it. He stared at a spot on the floor beside me and didn’t meet my eyes.
“Soren, I don’t know all that goes on there, but I know enough, and I can see what it is doing to you. Why do you stay? Why do you subject yourself to that kind of life?”
I stood frozen with my back against the door, still a little fuzzy. “I don’t have a choice. I need to pay bills and it’s all I know. I dropped out of school when I was just shy of seventeen, and I couldn’t even finish my GED when I went back to get it. No one would want to hire me. The other bar wouldn’t sustain me.”
He lifted his gaze, the sadness had returned. “What you do in the backroom, are you forced?”
I shook my head, shame and embarrassment seeping through where lust had been only a moment before.
“But what happens if you refuse?”
I huffed a breath and shrugged. “Then I get fired. Look…” I rolled my eyes and stood up straighter. “I know how that sounds—”
“It sounds like an ultimatum. Fuck and please men you don’t want to fuck and please or else here’s the door? Che è una stronzata!” Remy’s voice rose and his accent became thicker than I’d ever heard it until he was all out speaking Italian.
I stared, puzzled.
“It’s bullshit,” he clarified, bringing his voice back down. “I can’t stand the thought of you doing that to yourself.”
I smiled sadly and shook my head again. “And now you understand why I don’t date. Guys don’t understand, and I need to work.”
He paused a moment, deep in thought before tentatively raising his hand again to my cheek. His fingers brushed against me. “What if I told you I wanted to date you?”
A sad laugh escaped me before I could stop it and I brushed his hand away. “I’d say you haven’t thought this through.” I bent down and began putting on my shoes. “I suck dick and let other men fuck me for a living. No one in their right mind is okay with that. I can’t just drop the job because someone is interested in dating, no matter if maybe I was interested or not. I’d be on the streets and I refuse to put myself there.”
Once my sneakers were laced, I stood and shrugged. Why I even teased myself with the idea of dinner with Remy, I had no idea. I knew once it happened, it would be the end of my reprieve. He’d see my predicament and never look back.
I was about to turn and go when his words halted me again. “And are you interested?”
“What?”
“You said ‘no matter if maybe you were interested or not’. Are you?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. Something about him called to me, but who was I fooling? Who was he fooling?
“Let me ask you something. If I said yes and we tried this whole dating thing, how do you think it will go? What happens the first time I need to go off to work? The first time I let another man have me?”
He watched me with sadness again and I had my answer.
“Thank you for dinner. I’m gonna go.”
I opened the apartment door, but before I could close it behind me, his hand caught the edge and he drew me back around with a gentle pull on my upper arm. “If something better came along. Would you leave?”
“I hate my job. I don’t even know what it’s like to enjoy sex anymore. I’d leave in a heartbeat, but that won’t happen. Goodnight.”
Chapter Twelve
REMY
Sipping a newly poured glass of wine, I clicked open the second tab on my laptop, giving up on the article I’d been working on all evening. It opened to a long list of dance studios in the area which offered programs for various styles of dance, covering nearly every experience level.
It wasn’t an alternative job, but it built on something I knew Soren enjoyed. With some training, maybe it could turn into work. He had talent and spoke so passionately about his love for the art, I couldn’t help but envision him a better future than the path he was currently on.
I scrolled through the list again, clicking and reading through descriptions.
No matter what he said, no matter what I knew to be the facts of his work, I couldn’t ignore the feelings growing inside me. Especially, hearing they might be returned. Maybe I was stepping on toes and he’d eventually tell me to get lost, but I needed to try. He was so defeated. So convinced that his life was predetermined and couldn’t be better.
I checked the clock on the wall. Ten-thirty. As I drained my glass of wine, I closed the tabs from my search and shut down my laptop. Perhaps he didn’t expect to ever see me again. But, the idea of leaving him in the hands of those men, knowing the way he felt about it and hearing from his own mouth that he despised his job, I couldn’t stay away.
I returned my laptop to my office and my wine glass to the sink, where I washed it before re-placing it in the wine cabinet. Ensuring I spent as little time as possible doing routine checks, I grabbed a light jacket to wear over my steel grey sweater and left.
Soren had captured something in me and since seeing him that past Monday, I couldn’t consider letting him go.
No matter how many times I’d been in that club over the past month, it hadn’t gotten easier. It was such an invasion to all my senses, I had to mentally prepare myself before I could walk in the door.
The music was loud. The crush of bodies made my skin crawl and the unpleasant mixture of multiple kinds of body sprays, colognes, and sweat, played havoc with my mind.
Where most people coming into the club at such a later hour were hard pressed to find
seats, I knew one would always be available to me due to some sort of status I’d acquired with Donny.
As was custom, within five minutes of entering, Donny caught my eye and wandered over. He no longer tried to shake my hand, since realizing I wasn’t one of those people.
“Every Friday and Saturday night like clockwork. I’m glad we’ve made such an impression. How are you this evening?”
Without meeting his eyes, I searched for Soren. I’d learned enough about the way things functioned and suspected enough about the role Alessio played, to go along with Donny when we had our regular chats. “Doing well enough. It’s a good end to a rough week. You understand?”
“Of course.” A server I recognized as A.J came and delivered Donny a drink and offered me my usual beer before disappearing to assist other customers. “You are a man of routine, Remy, anyone can see that. How about we mix things up for you this evening? We don’t want to see you get stale. I’d hate to lose your business. Soren is one of my shining stars but you’ve kept him busy for over a month now. I thought tonight you might like to expand your horizons. Try something different.”
I squared my shoulders, not letting Donny see the intense rage his comment caused. I held his piercing glare with my own, not wavering or backing down. If my assumptions were indeed correct, then my next words should have him backpedalling.
“Alessio assured me I wouldn’t be hassled and that you were a reasonable man. Is this going to be a problem? I’d hate to have to express my disappointment to my brother.”
I rose my beer to my mouth and took a long drink, watching Donny’s hard eyes flick with irritation. His lips pursed and a moment later, he nodded. “My apologies. I’ll find Soren.”
It wasn’t until his back was turned that I allowed the mask to fall. All the respect I’d ever had for my brother drained away. How could he involve himself with someone like that?
I turned my attention to the stage where Ashton and the man he always seemed to dance beside worked through a few songs. As they finished up, Soren came up beside me, but said nothing as he too watched his friends. When the music moved into the next song he glanced over. “I didn’t expect you to come.”