by Jana Mercy
He sensed her possession in her predatory smile. She’d claimed him for the night. Maybe longer.
Oh yeah, stepping outside his wingtips and into a pair of worn work boots was the best thing he’d done in years.
And it felt damn good.
No expectations except for the moment.
Sophia had been right. He’d been boring.
Never again.
The next song started. It was past time for the next amateur stripper to appear.
“Later,” he mouthed to Joey before disappearing backstage before Madame G had him tossed.
* * * * *
Who did she think she was talking to him that way?
Gray slammed his fist into his hand. He was doing this for her and for his case. Not so he could hold the performance over her head. It sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with driving a wedge between them.
A gutless coward? Him? Not hardly.
One of the strippers returned to the dressing room and nudged Gray. “You’re next, bud. Ready?”
“Yep.” Gray stood, checked his costume and paced across the room. Sophia was wrong. He wasn’t afraid of her.
What a joke. Scared. Him. Gray Erickson. Hell, he hadn’t been afraid since Leslie.
Loud cheers, whoops and hollers boomed into the room. The women were really getting into the show. Was Sophia right? Would they really not care if he didn’t do his performance? And if so, why was he still in this dressing room?
Other than the fact Lawrence would kick his ass if he didn’t.
But even if Lawrence had given him an out, Gray had to do this. Despite what Sophia said. A special treat she’d advertised. A faceless full-bodied shot with a haunted encryption of Strip or Treat bannered over where his head should be had been plastered around town. “Delicious”, they’d dubbed him.
They being Elvis and Sophia.
Delicious the lily-livered?
No, it just didn’t fit. He wasn’t a coward. Sophia was playing with his mind again, attempting to manipulate him. But for what purpose?
Had she discovered who he really was? Was that why she spoke words of love?
Sweat dampened his skin. Possibly a good thing since he’d refused to be oiled.
Sophia said she loved him.
Did he believe her? And why did his fists tighten and his heart race at the thought she might?
The music ended. Elvis’ voice sounded over the PA system as he introduced Madame G to the crowd.
Gray’s cue.
He swallowed. It was now or never.
During Sophia’s rant she ignored the fact that when he performed, her goal of Strip or Treat being a total success would be accomplished. No failure this time. Thanks to him.
Was that why she covered for her aunt’s accounting discrepancies? To please her aunt? Was she also involved in drug sales to keep Madame G happy?
He made his way to stand behind a heavy burgundy curtain that barely hid him from the crowd.
He clenched and unclenched his hands. Swiped his sweaty palms over his pants.
He was going to go out on stage and take off his clothes. No big deal. He had nothing to be ashamed of. His body was in peak shape. He wouldn’t be showing more than his bartending outfit.
He really didn’t want to do this.
He took a deep breath.
It was time.
His music came on and he slid onto stage. With his recent finesse, he’d fall before the song ended but he’d give it his best shot.
Unlike every other stripping performance he’d done, he avoided glancing at Sophia. He didn’t want to see what her eyes held. It wouldn’t be pride or thankfulness. Nor lust or any of the other emotions he’d previously seen in her violet eyes. It would be regret and shame that he’d gone on stage when she thought she’d given him an out. Because she’d convinced herself he was doing this to hurt their relationship.
For her, he would do this.
But he hadn’t been lying when he said she should have trusted him. He knew the hard way that one deceit, one little white lie due to lack of trust, could lead to great pain. To death.
He stumbled but recovered so quickly he doubted anyone but Elvis or Sophia would notice. Continuing to move to the music, he removed one item of clothing at a time, slowly, sensually, with a heavy heart. He kept a smile plastered to his face and worked the crowd. A crowd he assessed for anything suspicious.
His gaze connected with a vivid green one. Joey’s.
He ended things years ago when she started getting too attached.
Just like with Sophia.
No, not just like with Sophia.
The situations weren’t alike at all. Besides, he hadn’t ended things with her, had he? Not really. But he knew he was fooling himself.
Gray stripped off his pants.
Two dog ugly women sat next to Joey.
He knew those women.
Women who weren’t women at all. Conners and Bird.
Conners waved a wad of cash and yoo-hooed loudly. “Over here, big boy. Let me see what you’ve got in those itsy bitsy drawers of yours.”
“Rocket,” he mouthed, knowing Conners would take the hint. He’d known Conners for almost ten years and trusted him implicitly. The club was well staked out for whatever was going to take place.
“Oh, ‘Delicious’. You’re looking good all slicked up and undressed. Good enough to eat.” The drag queen Bird grinned bigger than a dieter presented with a no calorie bar of chocolate.
“Over here,” another table called. “I’ve got something for you, stud-muffin.”
Gray lingered near his coworkers’ table a moment longer. The amused glimmer in their eyes sure didn’t attest to their being peeved at him for getting them into this mess. More like they were enjoying themselves at his expense. No wonder. He was making a total fool of himself.
For Sophia.
Because whether innocent or guilty, he cared for her. A lot. Too much.
Unable to stop himself, he glanced toward Madame G’s table.
Sophia’s chair was empty.
He scanned the crowded club but couldn’t spot her.
Where was she? Had she missed his show? Intentionally?
Why did the thought that she’d not watched, not seen what he’d done for her, knock the wind right out of his sails? Damn it. He wanted her to watch his performance. She hadn’t cared enough to watch.
He ignored the echo that his thoughts coincided with some of the accusations she’d made. She wasn’t here. That’s all he could think.
Gray rounded through the tables, allowing women to stuff his shorts with cash, because it’s what was expected. Inside, he hated what he was doing. Everything about it. Except that he gave Sophia her success.
A success Leslie hadn’t been able to achieve and he hadn’t been able to give her.
Painful memories sideswiped him and he literally fell onto the stage. Catching himself, he quickly maneuvered into push-ups in rhythm to the music and turned the fall into part of the show. As if it had been planned from the beginning.
“Say my name,” the lyrics chanted.
“Delicious,” the crowd called.
“Say my name.”
“Delicious. Delicious. Delicious.”
Gray pumped. Sweat trickling down his forehead and neck. Leslie had turned to drugs to ease her depression, to ease her lack of self-worth. He’d tried to stop her but everything he did only pushed her further away. Further into her despair.
He asked her if she was using drugs. She lied. If only she’d been honest with him, trusted him, he could have helped.
He knew he could have.
“I’ll never be as good as you. Never,” she claimed during one of her tearful, angry rants. “I hate you.”
The words stung, as did the memory that his little sister had seen him as the enemy. A perception he’d never been given the chance to change. Because she’d died. From a drug overdose.
He hadn’t been able to save her.
Not from herself or from the drugs.
His mother died only a few months later from a broken heart at the loss of her baby girl.
And it was all his fault.
He jumped up, stared at the crowd and forgot to dance. Forgot to smile.
Where was Sophia?
He’d told her to stay with Madame G, to stay where she was safe.
Was she involved in the drug exchange planned for tonight? Possibly being caught by one of the many on site agents? Or worse, what if Barnes or Hooper had her?
Damn it he was supposed to protect her.
* * * * *
Thankful she’d slipped by a distracted Stevie Vaughn who busily fought to keep a brunette’s hands off him, Sophia rushed into the club’s office, slammed the door behind her and leaned heavily against the cold metal. Tears streamed down her face.
He’d done it. He’d stripped. The fool.
That told her all she needed to know. Gray wouldn’t forgive her for not trusting him. He’d ensured he had enough emotional ammunition against her to warrant all those walls he threw between them.
She hadn’t been able to watch. Not beyond the first few seconds.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Sophia’s gaze shot across the room. Ken Barnes leaned back in the office chair and had his feet propped onto the desk.
“How did you get in here?”
He fished into his jeans pocket and dug out a key chain. The tinkling sound of the keys jangling against one another grated over her already raw nerves.
“You have a key?” How had that happened?
“Yep. Until yo-you came along, I was a-a VIP at this p-place.” His sullen expression and slurred speech warned he’d imbibed.
“You made your choice when you cornered me in the supply closet. I gave you the option of backing down and you refused,” she reminded him. Could she manage to get out of the office and down the long hallway to the club’s entrance before he’d catch her? Because if he caught her, there was no way anyone would hear them over the hoopla of Gray’s performance and the other strippers joining the ladies for dancing and fun.
How did this guy keep catching her alone?
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
“Here?” She looked around at the desk, trying to decipher why he’d been in the office. Surely, he hadn’t been waiting on her. If she hadn’t gotten upset at Gray’s strip, she wouldn’t have come anywhere near the office tonight. Maybe he’d been waiting on Gray. On drugs. Perhaps he’d deliver the vial taken from Robbie to Ken.
“To Nash-Nashville,” he corrected. “This was my turf and someday I’d have owned it all if you’d just stayed away. If you go away, I still will.”
“What are you talking about? How would you ever own my aunt’s club?”
Was he responsible for the books? For the depletion of her aunt’s funds? It made sense but how? Why would her aunt let him rob her blind? Not unless she was involved in the club’s illegal activities.
“She’d have given it to me,” he bragged.
“Not likely.”
“Oh yeah, she would have. Because until you came along this club would have been mine if the old bag passed on to her maker. Hell, that stroke should have done her in. Then none of this would have happened.” He pointed his finger at her. “You stole Strip or Treat from me. I’m highly ticked off about that. But the thought that this,” he waved his hand, indicating the club, “might all be left to you.” He shuddered. “Uh-uh. Ain’t gonna happen.”
Sophia shook her head. The man was a raving lunatic. Why would Aunt Genevieve leave this club to her? Although, logically Sophia supposed her aunt might.
“What my aunt does with this club isn’t any of your, or my, business.”
“You’re wrong. It’s very much my business. Between H-Hooper and your aunt, I-I’ve worked my h-hump off for this place. I won’t be cut out now.”
“What are you talking about?”
He stared at her with his beady eyes. “You really don’t know? Haven’t you figured it out by now?”
“Figured what out?”
“God, you really are a blonde, aren’t you?” His feet dropped from the desk and he stood, swaying more than a little. “Take a good ole look in the mirror, Miss So-Sophia.”
He staggered to where she stood and turned her toward the ornate mirror hanging on the wall.
“Te-Tell me. What do you see?”
She knew what she smelled. His rancid breath.
Sophia stared into the mirror. What did she see? A woman being held by a mad man. “Myself.”
“Look closer,” he ordered.
Sophia looked but didn’t know what he expected her to find.
“At your eyes. So unusual. I only know of one other person with eyes like that.”
“Aunt Genevieve.” Sophia shrugged. What was his point?
“Aunt?” Ken laughed, stepping away from her to walk back to the desk. He leaned against it. “Tell-l me, Sophia. How many family photos have you seen that included your aunt?”
“She’s not in any. My parents don’t associate with my aunt.” It shamed her to admit to her parents’ snobbery.
He rolled his eyes and sputtered. “I’m not talking about recent photos. How about childhood pictures of your father and grandparents? How many of those included your precious aunt?”
None. Her mother had explained that all photos of Aunt Genevieve had been removed. Never in any family album had she seen a single photo of her aunt. Supposedly, she’d gone to school abroad so there hadn’t been that many and her mother admitted to having destroyed what there were after Sophia’s grandparents died.
Aunt Genevieve didn’t act like a lady who’d gone to private schools in Europe.
“I can tell you how many. None. Not a single one.” His smile grew sinister. “Wanna know why?”
She got the feeling he was going to tell her regardless of whether or not she wanted to know.
“Ask me,” he demanded. “Ask me to tell you why you look like your aunt but she’s not in any of your family photos.”
An uneasy feeling churned in her stomach. “Why?”
“Because she’s not your aunt.”
Heaven help her, she really was trapped in a room with a lunatic. “Of course, she’s my aunt. You’ve already agreed that I look like her.”
He snickered. “Sure, you do. Bet you resemble good ole dad too. But you don’t look a damn thing like your mother, do you? Not one little bit.”
Moisture dampened her brow while she stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He waved his hands in the air, mocking her. “Oh, look out. P-princess Sophia used a curse word.”
“I’ve had enough of your foolishness.” She spun to leave the room. Her heart slammed against her chest wall as she expected him to come after her.
“Foolishness? Your parents were the fools if they thought you could come to Nashville and not realize that the woman they claimed was your aunt actually gave birth to you,” he said when she stood half out the door. “Or maybe not since you can’t see the truth staring you in the face.”
Unable to stop herself, she looked back. He sat propped against the desk, laughing at her.
“You’re crazy.” He had to be. Her mother was her mother. Aunt Genevieve was her aunt. What mind-altering drugs had Ken taken?
“Don’t believe me? The evidence stares back from that mirror.” His words ate into her confidence.
In slow motion, she glanced in the mirror. She did look like Aunt Genevieve but so what? Lots of nieces resembled their aunts. And so what if her mother’s dark good looks had skipped out on Sophia’s gene pool? That didn’t give any credence to Ken’s claim.
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
Sophia’s mouth fell open. “You really are crazy.”
“Nope.”
“Ken, I’m sorry about the problems we had a week ago. Obviously you nee
d help. Can I call someone for you?” Like the police.
His laughter ricocheted across the room.
Something in his beady eyes stopped her from running out of the room. She sagged against the doorjamb. “You’re telling the truth.”
“Duh. Isn’t that what I’ve been saying?”
“But then—” She stopped.
“But then what? Madame G is the woman who gave you away to the man she’d had an affair with. Seeing as how his own wife couldn’t have a child she was willing to take you in but only under the guise of you being her child. Faked a pregnancy and everything.”
Sophia gasped, wanting to cover her ears but unable too.
“Oh, don’t worry. Your dad made it worth Madame G’s time. He gave her the money to buy this club. When he met her she was merely a stripper herself. You’ve seen the pictures in her apartment. She was a beautiful woman. Well, actually, she looked like you do now. Bet that’s a bitch and a half for your mommy dearest to have to stare in the face every day.”
Sophia crossed the room and got so close his alcohol-laced breath permeated her senses. But she didn’t back down. “Don’t you ever let me hear you speak of my mother that way again.”
“Which one?” His smirk widened. “Your whore of a birth mother or your goody two-shoes high society momma who pretends like you’re not the byproduct of her husband’s unfaithful transgressions?”
A resounding slap echoed around the room. Sophia gasped in horror that she’d hit him, then filled with fear at the angry red stain on his face. His eyes darkened and he stood to tower over her.
“Don’t you ever do that again.” He grabbed her wrists. “I’ve been thinking. You and me, we should be on the same team. Madame G destroyed both of our lives.”
Not wanting to antagonize him further, Sophia didn’t speak, didn’t move, barely breathed.
“I want to make that bitch pay.” Ken’s eyes glazed over. “I planned to hurt her through you but then I realized she’s screwed you too. Look at what she did. Sold you. Her own child.”
“No,” Sophia denied.
“Yes. She uses everyone. Even Elvis. She leads him around like he has a ring through his nose and he has to follow her bidding. No damn way for a man to behave.” He snorted. “Of course, Elvis is a handy friend to have. Thanks to his gambling habit, I got a ring to lead him by too.”