Exposed to You (Overexposed)

by Andra Lake

  “All right, if you say so.” Luke pulled me into a bear hug. “Congrats, kiddo. We’ll see you soon.”

  Sam gave me a hug and left after I promised to fill her in on any new developments with Dallon King. I also promised her there wouldn’t be anything new.

  It took me three hours to unpack, put up my art and put the sheets on my bed. Then I changed into a pair of pink flannel pajamas and crawled into bed. I had to work the next morning, so I set an alarm on my iPhone before searching for free Wi-Fi networks. I wasn’t in luck. It looked like I was going to have to get used to checking my email at the cafe; I’d had to drop my data plan a few months ago in order to save money.

  Without the distraction of the Internet, I had too much time to think. I needed to find time this week to search for a job. Three months was going to go by quickly, and I’d already burned a week with this new job and moving.

  If only I could find a job that paid as much as Dallon King had offered me, I would send him an email boasting about my success. My excitement at this idea deflated, however, when I realized that he probably would be happy for me. Even though he’d stepped too far the night of our shoot, and despite the fact that his intentions and his means of getting what he wanted were entirely messed up, I’d seen a side of him the night before that told me he could be a nice, caring person underneath. He wanted me to succeed. That was what made me feel a bit sad I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore—now that I’d entirely turned down his offer.

  My thoughts then traveled to what he might be up to now, on a Saturday night. He’d made no attempt to hide the fact that he’d been with multiple women. Where did he find them? At a club? And then what did he do when he got them home, told them he wanted to spank them and take their picture? He’d said some women had asked him to take their picture. Had they asked to be spanked too?

  Or maybe he was at home, sitting on his leather couch and watching a movie on his sixty-inch LED, wall-mounted television, with a fire dancing in his marble fireplace. Or maybe even helping out at his shelter, showing his kind side while petting all the homeless animals.

  This last image was too much. I got out of bed and searched through my purse until I found my earphones. Then I plugged them into my phone and fell asleep listening to the audiobook version of Alice in Wonderland.

  Chapter Eight

  A week went by and I hadn’t had any luck finding a job. It didn’t really help that I had no idea what I was looking for. If only a Sketching Teaching Assistant position really existed, I’d be all over that.

  One night as Jackson and I split up our measly tips, he asked me how my job search was going and I informed him of my non-progress.

  “If I were a chick, I’d be a server,” he said.

  “You know servers can be male too, right?” I teased.

  “It’s not the same. Chicks can make a killing working at a club or one of those bars men go to after work. That’s what you should do. You’d get hit on like crazy and make mad tips. And the men you’d meet…” he whistled and winked.

  I accepted the $4.75 I’d earned over my eight-hour shift from him and sighed. “If I can’t find a job in the next month, I’m probably going to have to do that. I just hate those kinds of places. Going to them, let alone working at them.”

  Jackson smiled a sideways smile. “Just have to learn to ignore the creeps.”

  That was definitely something I’d struggle with; I couldn’t stop blushing around Dallon King and I got visibly uncomfortable when men made lewd comments to me.

  I filled the mop bucket with water and added soap, chatting without looking at him. “I’m also not sure I’d be very good at it. I’d probably forget people’s orders.”

  “You’d get the hang of it. Anyway, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll stay here either. It sucks making minimum wage.”

  “Tell me about it,” I sighed. Maybe he was right and I should look into serving at a place like that. “Hey, if I were to serve, where would you recommend?”

  “Mix. Hands down. They only hire cute girls and I’ve heard they do really well there.” He studied me for a moment. “Though, I’m not sure it’s the place for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it’s a huge meat market and maybe not the best place to start serving. And you’re pretty… sweet.”

  I frowned. If one more person called me sweet, I was going to blow. I took a deep breath before responding, “I’m not completely naïve, you know.”

  Jackson laughed and held up his hands playfully. “I know, I know. I’ve seen you and that guy you claim isn’t your boyfriend. I just meant if you’re worried about it, maybe not the best place to start. It’s a huge meat market.”

  I bit my lip in thought. “Yeah, but it pays the most. What’s the point in going halfway?”

  Jackson grinned. “My thoughts exactly. Look ‘em up.”

  The next day, that’s what I did. The entire process was creepy, but I’d expected that. When I arrived at the bar, I asked a server if I could talk to her manager. I was dressed nicely in a skirt and blazer with high heels. The manager was slightly overweight and looked me up and down before asking me to come to the back for an interview. There, he introduced me to his assistant manager, who also made no effort to hide that he was checking me out, and then they proceeded to measure me. They claimed it was for the uniform, but I had a feeling there was more to it, like they only hired servers with certain measurements.

  “You can start training this weekend,” the assistant manager said, not bothering to ask whether or not I have serving experience.

  “I work at my other job tomorrow, but I can come in on Saturday.”

  “Yeah okay. Just show up at 4 and we’ll find a gal for you to train with. We’ll give you your uniform then too.” As I was about to leave, he added, “We’ll start part-time, but if we need you more, you might have to quit that other job.”

  He was looking at me in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

  “Okay,” I said before leaving the office.

  On the ride home to Brooklyn, I texted Jackson the good news. Then I settled back in the seat and let myself feel good about it. Sure I’d have to put up with a lot of creeps like those managers, but in the end, I’d be making money, and that was the goal. My grandfather had once told me that a job was a job, no matter what level. I didn’t have to feel ashamed just because I was working for tips at a sleazy bar; I was doing what I had to do.

  And I was doing it on my own. I was taking care of myself.

  By the time I got home, I was feeling better than I had in the last few weeks. I had a steaming hot shower and then curled up in bed to read and watch movies. My mom called, but I let it go to voicemail. There was no point in risking losing this good feeling by hearing her negativity toward the serving industry and how I could do so much better.

  I did feel a bit bad about having to leave the café, but when I told Michelle the next morning, she was very understanding.

  “You told me it was temporary,” she said, shrugging. “We’ll make do.”

  “I’m not even sure how much I’ll have to cut down my shifts; I just wanted to let you know in case you want to start looking for someone else.”

  Michelle smiled. “I appreciate that. Actually, a High School student was in the other morning looking for work and Simon talked to her. He left her resume in the back, so maybe I’ll give her a call.”

  Jackson arrived and Michelle said goodnight and left us to our shift.

  “So, how’d she take it?”

  “Good. Sounds like there’s someone that can fill my position.”

  The dinner rush was busier that day, which was good practice for my new position. I found myself running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Usually we tried to bring drinks and food to the customers’ table, but on busy days we had to call out the names. Customers didn’t like this and some of them could be rude, but that night I took it to heart even less, happy to gain experience dealing with jerks. If
I was going to last at my new position, sweet Amy was going to have to take a hike.

  The rush finally died down and I collected all the empty dishes from the tables that had piled up while Jackson worked the cash and I put together the orders. When I placed the dirty dish bucket on the counter above the dishwasher, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I’d heard the expression before, but I’d never experienced it.

  Slowly, I turned around to find Dallon King standing by the door that led into the wash area. Even though it was a weekday, he was dressed in black jeans and his black leather jacket, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. There was a seriousness about his demeanor that was different than the last time he was at my work; the playful arrogance was gone.

  “Hey,” I said, surprised to see him there.

  “Glad to see you made it home safely.”

  I was confused for a moment, and then I remembered. “I forgot to respond to your email.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “It’s been a week and I haven’t heard a word.”

  This was surprising. He’d claimed that he cared about me, but it was entirely different having him here worrying about my wellbeing. It was actually kind of... sweet.

  Wetting a cloth, I walked back to the tables to wipe them down. Dallon followed.

  “I decided not to get Internet at my place and I dropped my data plan to save money,” I said, wiping a table. “I buy a few minutes at an internet café and look for jobs.”

  Dallon’s mouth fell open. “How poor are you?”

  And then he ruined it. I shot him a dirty look and shoved by him to move to the next table. “I won’t be for much longer; I got a job.” Before he could respond, I added, “I’m going to be a server at Mix.”

  “No.”

  I blinked and turned around to face him. “No?”

  “No, you can’t work there.”

  I balked at him before throwing down my rag and crossing my arms. “You’re telling me I can’t work there?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  I glanced over at Jackson, but he was busy restocking the pastry fridge. “And why the hell not?”

  “Because I know the types of creeps that go there,” Dallon said in a low voice. “I don’t want you working there.”

  “Because you’ve been one of those creeps?”

  Half of his mouth turned up.

  “It doesn’t matter—you don’t have a say,” I said, striding past him to wipe down the pastry fridge, where Jackson was still pulling the goods. Dallon appeared at the counter.

  “That’s not my choice. I want a say.”

  We stared at each other until Jackson cleared his throat. “I’m going to go count the money in the back.”

  Great. I’d approached Jackson on purpose and he’d taken off.

  “I don’t want you working there,” Dallon repeated, his face hard. “The place is full of assholes. Why would you even want to work there?”

  “I don’t, I need money!” I responded, my voice growing shrill. “It’s not a big deal and really none of your business!”

  Dallon narrowed his eyes and sweat broke out on the back of my neck. I’d never seen him this angry before. “So you’d rather work there than take the job I offered you. You’d rather let a bunch of drunk creeps grope you and talk to you like you’re a piece of meat than let me photograph you.”

  “It’s temporary and can hardly be compared to the prostitute position you offered me!”

  He snorted. “Yeah wearing the tight little outfits they give their servers isn’t prostitution at all.” He leaned forward on the counter, placing his weight on his palms. “I’m going to say this again, Amy. Do not work there.”

  I crossed my arms. “You really don’t have a say, Mr. King. You’re not my employer or even my friend.”

  He frowned momentarily, but in a flash, it was gone. “I would if I was your boyfriend.”

  My mouth went dry. He continued to stand there with an unreadable expression.

  “But you’re not,” I said eventually, my voice a whisper.

  He came around the counter and stopped in front of me. He was standing too close and looking down at me with those intense eyes.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot over the last few days, since we went for drinks. I didn’t hear from you. I…” He cleared his throat. “I missed you, and it surprised me. It didn’t make any sense and wasn’t what I’m used to. And then it hit me: I haven’t done it in a while, but I could try having a relationship. With you.”

  “You want to… date me?”

  “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I thought you wanted me to work for you.”

  “I did.”

  I reached up and put a hand to my head. Dallon King was really starting to confuse me. Who was this man, and what was he about? First he’d come off as a con man looking to take nude photos of unsuspecting women and asking them to move in and be his plaything. Then he’d let me delete the pictures and continued to pressure me to take his job offer. Now he was asking me to date him.

  “Look,” I said, turning away and putting soap into the dishwasher to put some much needed distance between us, “I think you have an idea of me from your fantasy woman or something. I’m not her.”

  Dallon sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair. “Are you seriously this difficult? I’ve tried everything with you, Amy. I’ve bent over backwards trying to make you happy and see that I’m not some jerk, and you’re determined to believe otherwise.”

  I closed the dishwasher and hit the button to run it before responding. I knew that part of what he was saying was correct, and there was definitely a part of me that was more than interested in dating him. His caring side led me to think there could be a future between us, and his dangerous side... Well, as much as I hated to admit it, that side kind of excited me. So why was I acting like this?

  Because you don’t trust him.

  “Amy.” Dallon approached me, gently reached out and tucked some loose hair behind my ear. “What are you so afraid of?”

  I swallowed, unable to look at him.

  “I know you’re attracted to me. I can see it in the way you blush and I felt it the first night we met.” He smirked at the last sentence, and my cheeks heated. “What’s the point of denying it?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “Because I know I’m going to get hurt.”

  Dallon frowned and put his hands on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. “How can you be so sure?”

  Just then, Jackson walked back in. Dallon straightened and flash a smile at him. “Hey man, if I give you a fifty, will you do the cleanup yourself? Amy and I need to talk.”

  I turned red again, but this time out of anger. “You can’t just throw money at people!” I seethed.

  I turned to Jackson. “Just ignore him, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Jackson looked back and forth between us before settling on Dallon King. “It’s okay, you two can take off. I get it.”

  “Thanks man,” Dallon grinned at Jackson and then looked down at me, serious again. “Get your stuff.”

  I was beyond mortified. I stood there for a moment, debating my options, until Dallon raised an eyebrow at me. I was ready to ream him out, but I wasn’t going to do it in front of Jackson, so I stomped to the back, where I grabbed my purse and jacket. When I returned to the front, Dallon and Jackson were chatting happily.

  Unbelievable.

  “Let’s go,” I muttered.

  Dallon reached out and slapped the fifty on the counter. “I mean it. Take it. And thanks.” Then he turned and put his arm on my back, steering me toward the door.

  Chapter Nine

  “I can’t believe you just did that!” I turned on Dallon the second we were away from the café. “Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

  Dallon rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. He was more than happy to take the money, and it’s better
than us continuing that discussion in front of him, don’t you think?”

  The Audi SUV was idling on the street. Arnold jumped out and opened the door for us. I climbed in, still reeling about what had happened with Jackson. I was going to have to talk to him about loyalty where Dallon was concerned. Why was everyone around me so intent on helping Dallon out?

  “Home please, Arnold,” Dallon said before climbing in himself.

  “We’re going to your place? No way.”

  My hand reached for the door handle, but Dallon pulled me back against my seat, putting a firm hand on my leg. When he spoke, his voice was low. “I’m going to make us dinner and then we’re going to talk. Nothing more.”

  I crossed my arms. His lip turned up at the gesture and I realized how silly I looked—like a pouty teenager. I uncrossed them and looked out the window.

  “How do you do that?” I asked, still looking out the window.

  “Do what?”

  “Charm everyone into being your friend.”

  “Oh, that.” He shrugged. “I’m a nice guy.”

  I turned to him and he raised his eyebrows playfully. I couldn’t help but smile, so I looked down to hide it.

  He chuckled softly and stretched an arm over the back of the seat, played with some strands of my hair. His touch sent shivers down my spine and my heart rate instantly picked up. He was right; I was attracted to him, more attracted than I had been to anyone in my life. Even if I’d thought I’d loved my past boyfriends, the excitement I felt at their touch paled in comparison to the simple act of Dallon King stroking my hair.

  His fingers moved to the back of my neck and then he was massaging it gently. I closed my eyes and held my breath, afraid to move in case the feeling stopped. The seat shifted under his weight as he leaned over to whisper in my ear.

  “The things I’d like to do with you, Miss Clair. If only you were mine…”

  My eyes flew open and he chuckled and leaned back, his fingers leaving my neck. I sat there trying to catch my breath for the few minutes it took to arrive at Dallon King’s residence.