Off Limits

Home > Romance > Off Limits > Page 4
Off Limits Page 4

by Vivian Ward


  “Why? Melanie, you’ll make a lot of money here. You won’t have to worry about a second income. Trust me.”

  “You don’t understand,” she shakes her head. “I can’t leave Jo all by herself. What if business picks up and she can’t handle it by herself? Then what?”

  I can’t help but laugh at her, but I try to keep it internal so she doesn’t know how ridiculous she sounds.

  “I’m sure Jo will be able to handle it and besides, they’ll probably hire a new person to take your place. It’ll work out.”

  She cocks her head to the side as though she doesn’t believe me.

  “So when are you going to start?” I ask her as I take the schedule out.

  “I haven’t said I was going to take the job yet!” she gasps.

  “Come on, Mel. We both know you will. What day can I put you down to start?”

  It felt strange yet comfortable calling her Mel, but I liked it.

  “I have to make sure this is okay with my babysitter first, you know? I thought I was coming down here to work a part-time job, working through a dinner rush; not leaving my full-time job to work nights in a strip club.”

  I hold up my hands and back away from the counter as though I’m giving her all the space she needs.

  “Nothing wrong with that,” I tease. “Will you call me in the next couple of days with your start date?”

  She hops down from the bar stool and smooths the wrinkles out of her dress.

  “Maybe,” she says.

  “Okay,” I reply.

  She spins on her heel toward the double glass doors.

  “And Mel?” I call after her.

  “Yeah?” she asks.

  “Wear less clothes; a skimpier dress when you come back.” I wink at her. “Trust me.”

  “I don’t know,” she grins from ear to ear. “You keep saying that but my mom always said to never trust a man who says trust me.”

  A playful giggle escapes her throat and it’s the first genuine laugh that I’ve heard from her. It’s nice; it sounds as fun and bubbly as she is.

  “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Chapter 5

  Melanie

  “Have you decided on the cocktail waitress position?” Ann asks as I’m dropping off Cam before my shift at the diner.

  “I don’t know. What do you think I should do? Do you think I should take it?”

  She flops down on her tan microfiber couch next to Cam and kicks her feet up onto the coffee table as she pulls him into her side, snuggling up with him.

  Her apartment is still dark with the only light illuminating the room coming from the glow of the television; infomercials to be exact. If we call now, we can get a free toaster with the purchase of our rotisserie oven.

  I laugh to myself at how ridiculous that sounds.

  Ann yawns and rests her head on top of Cam’s light brown hair as the two of them get settled on the couch.

  “I say do what’s going to make you the most amount of money,” she tells me.

  I’ve thought about it non-stop for the past two days; the money. Chase never told me what kind of money I could expect to earn in a club like that but judging by the looks of the place, I bet it’s quite a bit.

  The fancy lights, the sleek marble bar top, the modern floor design and the slick black stage that the dancers work on are proof that the club spares no expenses on entertainment which tells me that the men who come there drop some cash during their stay.

  It all sounds wonderful in theory but I don’t know if I can work in a place like that. I’m a mother, not a wild child who is will nilly and can do what they want.

  I could only imagine what Garrett would do if he found out that I was working in a place like that if I end up taking the job. He’d flip his shit.

  Not that it matters because he’s in the past. Cam and I haven’t heard from him in almost two and a half years. Garrett hasn’t even called once to ask if Cam would like to see him or to make sure that he has everything he needs.

  He doesn’t pay his child support that the judge ordered when the divorce was finalized, but I don’t press the issue or pursue him because I truly don’t want him in our lives so I’m not going to give him a reason to be in them.

  Jo has told me so many times that I need to go after him for child support, have the state pick up charges against him and throw him in jail, but what good will that do?

  I don’t want his money; I just want to be left alone. Cam doesn’t need him as a role model, either. I don’t want my boy growing up thinking it’s okay to cheat on women or that it’s okay to have double standards; the woman stays at home, isolated, while he does what he pleases.

  My son is better than that and he will hold women in a much higher light than his father ever did when he gets older. I’ll teach him the right way to treat a woman; with equality and respect.

  “This should be an easy decision but it’s not,” I say. “Part of me wants to jump on it and take the chance of making more money but the other part of me says that I shouldn’t be doing this. I should stay where I’m at, where I’ve been. It’s safe at my current job, you know? I don’t have to worry about the unknown.”

  “What do you mean it’s safe at your current job? Is this place dangerous or something?” she asks me.

  “Oh,” I laugh. “No, not at all. Chase said they have security there and it seemed like a very classy place. I meant safe as in job security. I’ve been at the diner since everything ended between Garrett and me.”

  Ann picks up Cam and puts him in her lap as she turns sideways on the couch. He’s almost back asleep.

  “You’re overthinking things,” she says, keeping her tone low so that Cam can go back to sleep. “Money is money, regardless where you earn it. It’s not like you or any of the other girls are selling your bodies. They dance, you serve drinks. The guys watch and take a load off. There’s no harm or shame in any of that.”

  “You really think so?” I ask.

  “Yes, I really think so. It’s human nature for men to look at women, and it’s natural for people to unwind. I think you’re being foolish if I say so myself.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’ll think about it some more, but you’ve definitely made me feel better.”

  Ann’s opinion is very important to me. She’s one of the closest friends I’ve got. We didn’t become friends until right after I moved into my house. She lives just around the corner from me and we met one day when I was taking Cam for a walk. Ever since that day, we’ve been two peas in a pod.

  After my interview with Chase, she was the first person that I talked to about the job. She told me right off the bat that I should take it and that she wouldn’t have any problem keeping Cam overnight while I worked and slept a few hours in the morning.

  Jo even told me the same thing but I’m still not sure it’s a good idea. It’s so hard to leave something you know is a sure thing. I know every morning that people will come into the diner because they have to eat, or they want their coffee.

  There’s no guarantee that men will come into the strip club to waste their money on girls and drinks.

  Getting off from my shift at the diner, I drop by Ann’s to pick up Cam who is not ready to go home.

  Apparently, I’ve interrupted a very important part of the cake-making process: licking the bowl.

  While Cam cleans every last drop of batter from the plastic bowl, I patiently wait as I talk to Ann. It’s nice to have her as a friend in addition to a babysitter. I don’t have a lot of friends, but I wish that I did.

  There aren’t many women in their mid-twenties coming into the diner and when they do, they’re not there to make friends.

  Amelia, our hostess, is close to my age but she’s a bit of an airhead. I like her and everything, but she’s not the type that I’d hang out with; and then there’s Jo. I love Jo to death and she’s a great co-worker, but she’s not really “girlfriend” material. She’s more like a mom to me.

  “All done?”
I ask Cam as he stares at the empty bowl in disappointment.

  “Hold on,” he says to me. Looking at Ann, he smiles and asks, “Can you put some more cake batter in here?”

  We both laugh at him.

  “Sorry, bud. I can’t make anymore.”

  “Why not?” he asks.

  “Because, I’d have to make a whole new cake,” she ruffles his hair.

  “I’d eat it,” he insists.

  “I bet you would! But I think your mom is ready to go now. How about if we make some more cakes tomorrow?”

  A grin spreads from ear to ear as he slowly nods his head and bulges his eyeballs.

  “Yes!” he pumps his fist in the air.

  I shake my head, laughing at him with Ann.

  “He’s something else,” she says.

  “Yeah, he is. Thanks for keeping him today,” I pick up his bag.

  “No problem. If you need to run to the store or anything, he can stay here,” she offers. “I can let him lick the rest of the icing out of the can.”

  We both burst into laughter.

  “Yeah, right! I’m not letting you get him hyped on any more sugar than he’s already had! Nuh-uh,” I laugh at her. “I’m going straight home and taking him outside to run off some of that energy before I cook dinner.”

  She holds her hands up.

  “Okay, just trying to make my little buddy happy,” she grins.

  “See ya tomorrow,” I say, pulling the front door open.

  As Cam and I step in front of our house, I see the mailbox is stuffed full.

  “Come on, little buddy. Let’s get these things dropped off in the house and then we can come back outside to play,” I tell him.

  Fishing the mail out of the box, I get every last piece of advertisement and set it on the counter with my keys and Cam’s bag.

  “Mommy! Let’s go outside,” he says, grabbing a hold of my upper thigh.

  “Hold on,” I say, trying to shake him off my leg. “Let me check the mail real quick to see what we got today, and then I’ll make us something to drink to take with us. Okay?”

  Sifting through everything, I see all the ad inserts for every fast food place in town along with the new water bill and something from the mortgage company. I cringe at that envelope and refuse to open it.

  It’s probably just another nasty gram about being behind on my payments. I hate being late but it’s nothing that I can help. If I had the money, I’d gladly send it in.

  I worked very hard to get us into this house. We had to stay at an extended stay hotel for a bit after my separation from Garrett, and I used every penny that I received from the divorce—which wasn’t much because his lawyer was way better than mine— to put a down payment on our small two-bedroom house.

  My credit *almost* wasn’t good enough but I think the fact that I had as much money down as I did really helped my cause so the bank approved me for the loan. Of course, that meant paying a bit more on the interest, but at least we’d have our own house and a permanent place to call home that felt a hell of a lot more welcoming than the icy house that I shared with Garrett or the extended stay hotel that was filled with God knows who.

  There were definitely more than enough shady characters staying under one roof in that place. I was so glad to get the both of us out of there.

  When we first moved into our house, I didn’t even have a bed. I thank God that Garrett’s mom bought Cam one of those convertible cribs that converts into a toddler bed because without it, I would’ve been screwed.

  Eventually, I worked enough hours and saved up to buy a couch and a TV stand, and I slept in the living room until I could afford a real bed. Little by little, I managed to fill each room of the house with the necessary items and then slowly began to decorate.

  It’s just now what I would consider a ‘home’.

  The walls in the living room are lined with pictures of Cam in various poses over the years and I have houseplants in opposing corners. Our kitchen has The Fat Chef plastered throughout, and there are angel pictures and figurines throughout the whole house to watch over us and protect us.

  The carpet and linoleum in the house aren’t the best, but I have them covered with decorative rugs. They also serve as a dual purpose since Cam tends to spill everything. I’ve been saying for a long time that as soon as I have the money, I’m going to replace the flooring but right now that’s the least of my worries.

  I can barely keep us afloat.

  Eying the mail on the counter as I pour us some lemonade, I decide to open the mortgage envelope. There’s this nagging feeling in my gut that tells me I need to see what it says.

  Dear Melanie Parker,

  You are hereby notified that The United States Bank intends to foreclose under provision of that the payment agreement that you entered on 5/14/2016, whereby certain property described as follows was given as security for the payment of the private property listed below:

  2114 St. Louis Avenue

  St. Louis, MO 63107

  You are hereby further notified that unless you pay the sum of the delinquent balance in the amount of $94,356.84, within 30 days of the date hereof, to The United States Bank, holder and owner of said agreement, at the address listed below that the secured party, The United States Bank, shall take possession of the above aforementioned property.

  Furthermore, if the said property sells for less than the balance owed under the terms of the agreement, you will be obligated to pay the deficiency.

  Sincerely,

  Jonathon Rupert

  President of The United States Bank

  1-800-555-1234

  I nearly faint.

  Reaching for my phone, tears blur my eyes as I press send to call Ann.

  “Hello?” she answers.

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe this is happening,” I break down and begin crying.

  “What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

  I try to control my sobbing but I can’t. This is just too much. It’s the only thing I own in this world besides my beat-up car that I just finished repairing.

  After several deep breaths and blowing my nose, I clear my throat.

  “The bank, they’re foreclosing on my house,” I manage to get out.

  “Oh no!” she gasps. “How far behind are you?”

  “I don’t know? A couple of months?”

  She pauses and thinks for a moment while I sob into the phone.

  “You’ve got to be further behind than a couple of months. How many payments have you missed?”

  “Um,” I gasp for air as I take a drink from the glass I just made myself. “I’m not sure. I know that I missed one in December, but I had to because of Christmas and taxes, you know? But then I made one—a little late—in January for January’s payment. After that, I paid February and March, but then I missed two months. And then, oh I don’t know. I’ve just sort of been playing catch up when I can.”

  “Oh, Melanie! I didn’t realize you were in THIS much trouble! Honey! Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve give you a break on babysitting! You know that,” she says.

  My shoulders heave as I silently cry into the phone while Cam puts his tiny arms around me. It’s so cute, and sad, that he’s trying to console me. I’m the grownup, I should be consoling him.

  “It doesn’t matter and besides, I can’t expect you to watch him for free.”

  “Mel-a-nie!” she enunciates each syllable of my name. “I will watch him for free! The babysitting money that you owe me? Forget it; put it toward your mortgage.”

  “No, that’s not right,” I say to her.

  I feel bad that she’s being so kind to me. I don’t know any other babysitter who would do this for me. I’m not the type to take handouts and my heart sinks to know that someone cares about me so much.

  “The hell if it isn’t! You’ve got to get your mortgage caught up, girl!” she says.

  “I can’t!” I cry out. “They want the full balance of the loan. Every penny that I bor
rowed; I can’t do that.”

  “How much do they want?” she asks.

  “Just a little over $94,000.”

  I burst out into a hysterical laughter. It sounds ridiculous; $94,000. Right.

  I couldn’t pay the $750 per month, so let me just fork over $94,000. It is literally the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.

  My laughter spreads and catches her. Now the two of us are laughing our asses off.

  “Listen, they don’t really want $94,000,” she says after catching her breath. “They always put that kind of stuff on foreclosure notices because it gets your attention. Call them and see if they’ll work with you. Is this your first notice or have there been others that you maybe ignored?”

  “No!” I swear. “This is the first letter like this.”

  “Yeah, call them. I’m sure they’ll work with you. They know that you don’t have that kind of money, so this is their attempt to scare you.”

  “Well, it sure worked!” I say. “What should I say to them?”

  “Be honest. Tell them you’re a single mom, work has been slow and you’ve had trouble making ends meet but you’re getting a new job and you’ll start to catch up your loan.”

  “What new job is that? Like what should I tell them?”

  “Um, hello? The job that Chase is giving you—if you haven’t blown it! Remember?”

  “Oh right,” I say as if this is news to me. “Okay, I’ll call them right now.”

  Chapter 6

  Chase

  It’s weird that I haven’t heard from Melanie, but I’m also not surprised.

  She seemed taken aback after she walked in. This type of job isn’t for everyone and I understand that not all women want to work in a place like this, but it could certainly get her out of her position. I’ve had to give more than a few pep talks to some of the girls that I’ve hired, and Melanie’s no different.

  It’s easy money.

  Well, easy in the sense as to what she’ll make hourly, but it is hard work. This place gets pretty packed, especially on the weekends. She could easily pay her bills while working here. I have no doubt about that.

 

‹ Prev