by Mia Sheridan
I flipped off the lights in my studio, locked up, and walked outside into the warm evening air.
The quarry had shut down for the night, all the workers were gone, and I took a moment to appreciate the stillness surrounding me. A hawk cried out, its caw echoing in the canyon, and the hum of insects rose and fell. A light breeze came up, and I turned my face up into it. God, that felt good after the heat of the last few days. The wind brought with it the smell of pine and earth.
“Hey, dude, you heading home?”
I turned toward Dominic as he approached from the direction of the showroom. “Oh, hey, I thought you’d left by now.”
“I had an appointment that went late. An indecisive couple who couldn’t agree on anything. Listening to them argue back and forth was like watching table tennis. I need a beer. You up to getting one with me?” He eyed me sideways as we started walking toward our trucks.
“I’m actually already going out.”
“I’ll come along.”
I cleared my throat. “Thanks, Dom, but I’m meeting someone.”
We stopped at my truck, and he raised his eyebrows before giving me a slow smile. “Who is she?”
“Just a girl I met recently.” Guilt ran through me. I felt like I was deceiving him.
“Well, holy shit. Why didn’t you tell me? Aren’t brothers supposed to discuss shit like this? I knew you were up to something.”
“No.” I laughed, opening my truck door. “It’s really not anything, but I guess … I guess I’m hoping it can be.”
Dominic grinned. “If you need any pointers, you know who to come to.”
I raised an eyebrow as I climbed in my truck. He held the door open. “Hey, what about Chloe?”
Chloe. Shit I’d almost forgotten I had an e-mail from her, thanking me for agreeing to the interview, that I still needed to answer. “Chloe is coming here purely on business, Dom. I haven’t even met her in person.”
“Yeah. I just thought you were hoping—”
“I wasn’t hoping anything.” Another lie, although I wasn’t exactly sure what the truth was anymore.
He put his hands up. “Okay, okay. I can see that your head’s been turned elsewhere.” He smiled, a sincere one. “Good for you, big bro. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
As if that were even a remote possibility. “Night, Dom.” I laughed and closed my truck door and drove out of town, toward the Platinum Pearl, toward Crystal.
* * *
I sat through a couple of dances at the Platinum Pearl, but when Crystal didn’t come onstage, I asked a waitress if she was working. The girl confirmed she was but that she’d already performed and would be out on the floor soon. I ordered another beer, even though I hadn’t finished the first. I also ordered a plate of cheese fries just so the waitress serving my table wouldn’t get annoyed.
Fifteen minutes later, my heart leapt when I saw Crystal come through the doors with a tray in her hands. She was wearing the same uniform she’d been wearing the first time I’d talked to her, a tiny pair of “shorts” and a striped top tied between her breasts. I took a moment to watch her without her knowing. Her body moved fluidly even when she was just walking from table to table. She obviously felt comfortable in her own skin, had probably been told often enough she was beautiful. But even from here, I could see she had that same distant look in her eyes, that cynical tilt of her lips.
She bent to put a beer in front of one of the guys at a table in her section, and he ran his hand down the back of her thigh. For just a second, a look of pure disgust moved over her face right before she plastered on a smile and said something that made the guys at the table laugh. She hates them. She hates this. The thought came sure and swift. God, she probably hated me, too. Another man here to use her in some way or another. The same wave of guilt I’d felt when I first met with her swept through me. I took a long sip of beer, doubting myself all over again for being here. That’s when she caught sight of me. She seemed to freeze for a portion of a second, her eyes widening before she turned away, walking through the swinging black doors next to the bar that I assumed was the kitchen entrance. I released a pent-up breath.
A few minutes later, she came back out, heading straight for my table. She set the cheese fries down and smiled at me politely. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Yes.” I smiled back, though I still felt uncertain, could feel the blush warming my face. “A cup of coffee. But not just any coffee. Diner coffee. I’ve never had it before and it’s been a lifelong dream to experience it. I was hoping you’d buy me a cup.”
She let out a breath. “You and your lifelong dreams.”
I grinned. “I’ve got a few. I bet you do, too.”
“This is my dream, sugar.” She swept her arm around the dim club. “What more could any girl want?” She leaned on the table with one hand, her tray held out to the side with the other. “Stop coming here, Gabriel. This is not the place for you. You don’t belong here.”
“Neither do you.”
“Stop it. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I was the wrong girl. But I don’t know why you think I don’t belong here, because I do.”
“You hate it.”
“So what? You’re the savior of strippers everywhere who hate their job? I have to make a living, Gabe.”
I closed my eyes, frustrated with her, but mostly frustrated with myself. I was making a complete mess out of this. “Just coffee, that’s all I want.” Just to see you smile.
“That’s not all you want. You want to save me from my intolerable life of pain and misery.” She put a hand on her chest in overdone drama. “I’m not a project, and I don’t want your help.”
“I’m not here to fix you. I just want—”
“What do you want?”
I let out a sigh, running my hand through my hair. “Just to talk. I like you.” God, could that sound any more lame? I wanted to grimace at my own feeble attempt to sway her.
She stared at me for a moment, something flickering behind her eyes that I wasn’t sure how to read. Whatever it was, she was fighting it. That cynical smirk curved her lips, but there was something shaky about it. “Don’t they all?” She stood straight, letting out a tired-sounding exhale. “That’s just sexual attraction, Gabe. You’ll get over it.” She didn’t say it meanly, though. Just as if she was sharing a fact she’d learned long ago. Something about it made sadness well up inside me. She started to turn away.
“I’m not giving up on you. I’m coming back.”
She shrugged one delicate shoulder. “It’s a free country. You do whatever you want. But I suggest you get out of here and go find the right girl.”
“What if I still think you’re the right girl?”
“Then you’re wrong.” She turned and walked away.
Fuck!
I spent another twenty minutes nursing my beer, contemplating what she’d said. Was I here to fix her? Was that even worse than asking her to help fix me?
She didn’t return to my table. Her section kept her busy enough, but I knew she was avoiding me, and I wasn’t sure I could blame her completely. She went to the back, and when she hadn’t emerged ten minutes later, I signed the credit card slip the waitress had brought a few minutes before and started walking away. With a sudden thought, I turned back and used the pen in the bill folder to write my cell phone number on a napkin and then folded it in half and wrote Crystal’s name on the front. I almost balled it up—who even knew if she’d get it, and if she did, she’d most likely toss it out. With a sigh, I left it there anyway and turned and walked toward the door.
All the way home, I vowed not to go back again. It was hopeless. Move on, Gabriel. Let her be, and do what she said. Find someone else.
* * *
The next day, I helped George in the quarry, directing the machines and trucks that cut and hauled the stone. The physical labor involved in constant hikes from the bottom of the quarry to the top, combined with the nonstop activi
ty, kept me distracted enough that I didn’t drive myself crazy with my own thoughts. The crew didn’t necessarily need my help, but there was always something to do at the quarry, and I enjoyed the strenuous work at least a couple of times a week. It usually helped inspire creativity the next day—something about putting my body to work and emptying my brain. It was a type of therapy, I supposed. Then again, so was carving.
As I was heading up the hill, George fell in stride beside me. “Thanks for the help today. Got something on your mind?” He grinned over at me.
George wasn’t one to pry, and was a man of few words. I didn’t often discuss personal things with him, and he’d never asked me about what I’d experienced in that basement all those years. I knew in my gut he’d talk about it if I brought it up, but I’d never felt the need to, not with him, and I appreciated that he respected that boundary. So when I stopped and turned to him and asked, “George, how do you know when to give up on someone?” he looked mildly surprised.
He paused, looking off behind my shoulder, before turning his wise eyes back to me. “We talking about a female someone?”
I laughed softly. “Maybe.”
“Maybe.” One side of his lips quirked up in a half smile. “Well, is she giving you any reason to be persistent?”
I sighed. “Not so much. But I just, I have this feeling …” My words died. I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. This feeling that what? That she’s mine. The words rose up inside me so strongly I almost stumbled. “This feeling …,” I murmured again, feeling both off-balance and somehow energized.
George glanced at me worriedly. “Uh-huh.” He paused again, seeming to consider his words. “Well, kid, I guess there’s no one answer to that. I think you have to go with your gut.”
I smiled. “That’s what my dad used to say.”
He smiled back. “Yeah, sounds like him.” Affection moved over his face at the mention of my dad, his best friend. “I think you should trust yourself, Gabriel. The answers are in here.” He tapped a hand over his heart. “Whatever you decide, I have faith it’s the right choice.” He paused as if he was gathering his next words. “It’s not the things you do with love and good intentions that you end up regretting. It’s the things you don’t do that you have to live with. Be honest with yourself about your intentions, Gabriel, and then follow your heart. Regardless of the outcome, you’ll never live with regret.”
“Thanks, George. I kind of needed that vote of confidence.”
“Gabriel, where you’re concerned, I’m always confident.” He winked and walked away, toward the office.
I went home and took a quick shower, George’s words—my dad’s words—echoing in my head. Go with your gut. My gut told me to try again with Crystal.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I got in my truck and headed to the Platinum Pearl. I’d told her I wasn’t giving up on her. I’d said it. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I had. I couldn’t make a fool of myself forever. If she never reciprocated the effort, I’d have no choice but to give up eventually, but I was willing to check my pride again to prove to Crystal I hadn’t just delivered empty words. I had a feeling Crystal was well acquainted with empty words.
I sat at a different table this time, but one still far back from the stage. All the tables at the front of the room were taken—the men crowded together, anxious to see the dancers up close and personal. A small flicker of jealousy lit inside me at the thought of all the men gaping at Crystal, but I tried my best to extinguish it. I couldn’t even get her to have a cup of coffee with me. I had no right to be jealous.
I hoped I had arrived after she’d danced but with enough time to be seated before she came out to serve drinks, and it seemed I had lucked out with my timing. Twenty minutes after I got there, Crystal emerged wearing her waitressing outfit. She stopped in the doorway, an empty tray in her hand. My heart flipped over. A loose braid fell over one shoulder, several pieces of hair already escaping and hanging around her heavily made-up face. She looked both innocent and far, far too knowing at the same time. A complete paradox.
I felt somewhat anonymous as I watched her from the crowded room, sitting in a place she wouldn’t necessarily expect. I hadn’t meant to set things up so I could watch her without her seeing me, but as it turned out, that’s just what I was able to do. She seemed to make it a point not to look at the table I usually sat at, but I watched as she moved into the room, and I saw the moment her eyes darted quickly to that table and then lingered on the guys who were sitting there. Something bleak seemed to come into her eyes, a sort of knowing apathy as if she’d figured I wouldn’t be there and it confirmed her low expectations. Or was I reading too much into one fleeting expression?
Trust yourself. Go with your gut.
She turned my way, and when our eyes met, I saw her jerk slightly, so slightly, but I’d seen it. She blinked once and then sauntered my way, stopping in front of my table. I wanted to stand, but I had no reason to do that, so I looked up at her, feeling awkward and shy—knowing that just by being here I was asking her to hurt me, and yet not being able to stop myself. Coming back here—it felt irrational and illogical and foolish and right.
“You’re back,” she noted dully.
I attempted a charming smile, but had a sneaking suspicion it looked more like a self-conscious grimace. “I am.”
“I’m still not the right girl.”
“I still don’t agree.”
She sighed, turning her hand over and studying her nails for a moment as if I might very well be the most tedious person she’d ever dealt with. “The other girls have been asking about you, you know. They’d like a chance to get you alone in a room.” She swept her arm around. “You have your pick. Seriously.”
I frowned. “I made my pick. You.”
Her lips formed a thin line. “It didn’t work out.”
“It did work out. That’s what you’re afraid of. Why?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I needed money to pay for car repairs. I got what I needed and now I’m done. I found it … distasteful.”
A spear of hurt ripped a jagged path down my spine, causing me to wince. She watched me, and though her expression remained unaffected, her face paled slightly. “Just go, please,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word, right before she whirled away.
I took a deep breath, running my fingers through my hair, feeling sad and foolish. Crystal.
I watched her serve a few tables, her smile seeming even more hesitant than usual, her laugh more forced. You’re an idiot, Gabriel. She told you to leave. Go.
I finished my beer and paid my tab, finally walking back to the hallway where Anthony was sitting on his stool. I was going to give this one final chance and then this was it. He nodded at me.
“Will you tell Crystal I’m here?”
“She didn’t give me word she’d see you tonight, man.”
“Will you ask her anyway?”
Anthony looked at me and nodded slowly, surprising me with the sympathy that came into his eyes. As if he’d been in situations like this a hundred times with poor saps who came to this club, and fell in love with one of the girls, and were turned away. Typical, his look said. Sad, but typical. “Sure thing, buddy,” he said, standing and walking leisurely down the hall. I put my hands in my pockets and waited.
When he came back two minutes later, he motioned to me. “Come on back.” I startled, shocked. I had been expecting to say thanks to Anthony and walk to my truck. Hope soared in my chest. I followed him to the same purple-curtained room I’d met her in before and smiled at Anthony as he pushed the door open for me, nodding once before closing it again.
I rubbed my hands together, the hope suddenly mixing with nervousness. She was giving me one more chance, and I didn’t want to mess it up. I didn’t want to squander this opportunity, because this was it. I couldn’t come back after this—I was already skating the thin line between persistent and stalker. It could be argued that I’d already crossed it. Christ.
I groaned aloud because it was true and the noise broke the silence of the room. There was a light knock on the door, and I frowned slightly because Crystal had never knocked before.
“Come in,” I called.
The door opened and a woman with short, spiky, scarlet-colored hair, wearing a black leather teddy of sorts and fishnet stockings walked in. “Hey, handsome.” She smiled, bright red lips parting to show white but slightly crooked teeth.
“Hi. Uh, I’m sorry but I was waiting for Crystal.”
She walked to the sound system, pressing some buttons before turning. A loud, seductive beat filled the room. “Crystal’s not available. She sent me. My name’s Rita.”
“She sent you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper over the music. Why would she do that? She knew I wouldn’t want anyone else—knew I’d be unable to tolerate anyone else. Ah, God, that’s exactly why she’d done it. I told myself it was unreasonable to feel so hurt, and yet I felt it all the same. A sick feeling of betrayal.
“Yup.” She moved quickly toward me, pushing me backward onto the couch. I sat down with a startled intake of breath, and before I realized what was happening, she was on top of me, straddling my lap. My head filled with fog, a red, pulsing alarm. She leaned forward and rubbed her breasts in my face, the cloying sweetness of perfume mixed with the musk of unwashed skin. She smelled … dirty.
He’d smelled dirty.
Can’t breathe.
My heart rate jumped erratically, and I turned my face away, cold panic sweeping through me at her unwanted touch. Run! Fight!
I pushed at her and she let out a surprised yelp as she fell to the side, landing on the couch next to me awkwardly. I scrambled up, my breath coming out in harsh gasps. “God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”