“Can we meet somewhere later?” Knox asked, his gaze studying her face.
“I’m staying at the Lakeside Inn on Hiller. There is an all-night diner next door. We can meet for coffee at midnight if you’d like.”
“I’d like that. I’ll be there.”
“I gotta go.” Melanie glanced at Collin who looked more than impatient now. She’d probably get an earful all the way to Shapiro’s. Dancing was out now that she had plans to meet Knox.
Her heart raced at the prospect. First she’d have to get through dinner with Collin and try to sidestep all the questions she knew were coming.
* * *
Knox sat at a booth, nursing his second cup of coffee, anxious to see Melanie. It was quarter to twelve and he bided his time by studying the other patrons in the place. Most looked as if they were sobering up from a night of drinking.
He’d had a few hours to think about his argument with Melanie, and had come to some truths while he waited for her.
First, he was a real asshole when things didn’t go his way. He never should have expected Melanie to drop what she was doing for him. It wasn’t like she’d known he was coming. This was something he needed to work on. Second, sex wasn’t all he wanted from her, yet he didn’t know what he else he wanted. He had to think on that further. One thing he did know, he wanted to be with her. Hold her. Protect her from the kind of man she’d left to have dinner with. He knew the type. Hell, he was one of those guys, only looking for a good time.
His cell phone rang. He picked it up off the table and flipped it open. “Knox.” He shifted back in the seat.
“Knox, where are you?” his mother asked, her voice anxious.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Tony’s been calling Tara. He said if she doesn’t let him see the boys he’s going to kill her.”
“Listen, Mom. Call the police. Explain what’s going on. I’m in Chicago right now, but I’ll leave this instant. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Hurry, Knox.”
Knox snapped his phone shut. He needed to leave Melanie a note. Explain why he had to leave.
He grabbed a napkin, scribbled a quick message on it and got up to pay the check. “Will that be all, sir?” the hostess asked as he handed her a five.
“Actually, I need a favor. I’m supposed to meet a beautiful redhead here in a few minutes. I have to leave. Her name’s Melanie Sharp. Could you see that she gets this?” He handed her the note.
“I’m getting off in a few minutes. I’ll tell Carol to make sure she does.” She took the paper napkin.
“Thanks.”
Knox turned and raced out the door. He hated to leave without talking to Melanie first, but his sister needed him. Tara and the boy’s safety was paramount. Hopefully, Melanie would understand after she read the note.
Knox debated strangling Tony. Would the guy ever be out of their lives? If he laid one hand on Tara or the boys he was going to break him in two.
* * *
“Melanie, why are you still in bed?” Kay shook her.
Melanie pulled the covers over her head. She wished she’d never given her friend a key. “Go away.”
Kay pulled the blanket off. “What is wrong with you? It can’t be your show. You had rave reviews in the paper.”
No it wasn’t her show. A man was at the center of her anguish, one that was a fickle as they came. “I don’t want to talk about it. Go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s got you hiding under the covers.”
Melanie sat straight up in bed and glared at her best friend. “I’m not hiding.” Or was she?
Kay frowned, clearly skeptical of her reply. “What are you doing?”
Melanie crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m resting.” What’s wrong with a girl lying in bed? Resting in peace? Was there some unwritten rule? One she hadn’t heard about?
“At two in the afternoon? Isn’t it a little early or a little late?”
Not when her heart was broken in two, it wasn’t.
Somehow this felt like an interrogation, and Melanie’s patience slipped. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“I took the afternoon off. I tried calling you all morning. I got your machine. Don’t you check your messages?”
“I turned it off.”
Kay’s amber eyes narrowed, her lips pursing. “You turned it off?”
What part of turned “off” didn’t she understand? “Yeah, that’s what I said. I…turned…it…off!”
Her friend shoved her hands on her hips and glared. “Why?”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What is going on with you, Mel? You look as if you haven’t combed your hair in days and frankly, you smell bad.”
“If I’m so offensive, maybe you should leave.”
“No, I think I should drag you into the bathroom to shower and get your act together.”
“Why? What does it matter?”
“I want you to tell me right now, what’s gotten into you?”
Melanie fell back against the bed pillows and covered her face. “I think I’m in love.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
Melanie dropped her hands at her side, feeling defeated. “It is when the man I’m in love with is a jerk.”
Kay sat down on the bed. “Why?”
“He plays head games. One minute he wants me, tells me to meet him somewhere, then he doesn’t show up.”
“Are we taking about Mr. Fireman?”
Melanie nodded.
Kay rubbed Melanie’s arm in comfort. “Has he called to tell you why he didn't?”
“Why do you think my machine’s off? He’s called and called. I refuse to talk to him. He came by last night. I pretended I wasn’t home.”
“Maybe he had a good reason for not showing up. Have you thought about that?”
“Maybe he decided he didn’t want to risk losing his job over a pity fuck.”
Kay’s jaw dropped. “I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap if I hear that kind of talk again. Actually, soap isn’t a bad idea right now. Have you thought of using it lately?”
“Okay, Mother.” Melanie sneered. “I’m getting up.”
She did need to take a shower. Heck, being around her own self was getting difficult.
For three and a half days she’d been moping in bed. Crying over a missed date with Knox. Being stood up hurt, especially when he was the one to suggest they meet in the first place.
“You take a shower. I’ll go to the kitchen and fix something to eat.”
“Okay, I’m going.”
A half-hour later, Melanie stepped into the kitchen, drying her hair on a towel. Kay stood next to her answering machine, listening to Melanie’s messages. “What are you doing?”
“Listen to this,” Kay insisted, pressing the play button on the machine. “Melanie, why won’t you call me back?” Knox's voice asked. “I’m sorry I left without seeing you the other night. I thought the note I gave the hostess would’ve been enough. I’m sorry it wasn’t. I won’t call you again.”
It was Melanie’s turn for her jaw to slack. “I didn’t get a note.”
Chapter Eleven
Knox slipped into his jeans, getting ready to go to a bachelor party for Michael Fields, a fellow firefighter who was getting married in a few weeks.
He found it hard to fathom why Melanie hadn't understood his need to leave the night they were to meet at the cafe. He'd tried calling her ten times in the past two days. She’d never returned his phone calls. To hell with her. If she thought her needs were more important than his sister's life, he was better off without her.
He threw a green polo shirt on over his head and tucked it into his pants.
He didn't feel much like partying tonight, though Michael was a friend and he had to show up. Brent would just come and drag him there anyway.
Knox finished dressing, grabbed his keys from the kitchen c
ounter and left his apartment. Once he was in his truck, he glanced at the directions Brent had written down for him. The place was a men's club called, A Leg Up, in St. Louis, about a half-hour drive from Barton. Nice image for a strip club. The last thing he needed was to watch a bunch of women strutting around naked, shaking their booties for money.
He had no choice though. Brent had planned the event, right down to the location of the party. Private, and closed to the public for Michael's friends. And according to Brent, no one was going home until they were trashed.
Luckily, Knox had volunteered to be the designated driver for the night. Someone had to stay sober, to control the uncontrollable. Might as well be him. He was in no mood to drink.
Once on the highway, his thoughts drifted back to the night he’d returned from Chicago, hours spent thinking the worst.
When he’d walked in his mother’s door, he’d learned the police had come and gone—spouting there was nothing they were able to do. Even with a warrant for Tony’s arrest pending for assault.
The system didn’t work for women who were abused. It was almost a double-edge sword for them. Unfortunately, as the law read, until the abuser did something—like kidnapped or killed them—there was nothing they could do. What kind of screwed up system was that?
The biggest surprise to Knox that night was finding his father sitting in the living room, acting as if he belonged there. He’d been shocked to say the least, to the point that he had had a hard time being civil to him. It’d been weeks since he’d seen Nathan Manning. He’d purposely avoided him. There he’d been though, looking pleased as punch to be included in the family crisis.
Knox shook his head. Dad didn’t deserve that privilege, not after his numerous infidelities.
He glanced at the directions again, noting that he had to get off at the next exit. He didn’t look forward to pretending he was enjoying himself. He had too much crap going on in his life, and drinking to get rid of it wasn’t the answer. That just magnified the problem.
After exiting, Knox pulled into the parking area of the club and found a slot. Twenty or so cars were already there, the lucky groom’s among them. That man would be hard-pressed to make it into work the next day, especially if Brent’s plans were executed. He’d paid one of the ladies at the club to give Michael an all night lap dance. Michael would be as randy as a rutting bull in a pen of new cows.
Knox jumped out of his pick-up and locked the doors. To him this was just another event he hoped would be over quickly with little or no drama. At least that’s what he prayed for.
* * *
Melanie opened the back door to A Leg Up, slipped inside, and inched her way down the hallway.
Knox was here somewhere. She’d found that out from one of the men at the firehouse. She prayed he wasn't engaging in a sexual act when she found him.
Though why shouldn’t he be? Not answering his calls had driven him to come to such a place—maybe into the arms of another. Experienced arms, legs, and God knows what else from the looks of the place.
Melanie grimaced. Could she blame him really? She hadn't returned his calls—or been all that nice to him since they’d met. He’d admitted to wanting her. But he couldn’t tell her why. She wasn’t beautiful. Wasn’t built like Kay, curves in all the right places. Not hardly. So why would a gorgeous, hunky man like Knox want her? The whole thing made no sense.
“Hey, you. Come here,” a thin, balding man said, his finger hitched up at her. “You're late.”
“Me?” Melanie's heart pounded inside her chest. Caught like a rat. What were they going to do? Throw her out? She'd never find out what Knox was up to if they did.
“They just keep getting’ dumber.” The ugly man shook his head and grabbed her arm. “Yes, you. Hurry up. You're next.”
He shoved her into a dressing room and threw a strange costume at her. “Get into that. You have five minutes.”
Melanie stared at the getup, and convulsively swallowed. It looked like a firemen’s uniform, except made for a Barbie doll.
She stared aghast at the tiny bits of fabric.
The man stuck his head in and frowned. “Aren't you dressed yet?”
“There has to be some…mis—”
He raised his hand and cut her off abruptly. “Two minutes.”
What was she going to do? Think, Melanie. What would Nancy Drew do in this type of situation? Yeah, right. Like Nancy would ever be caught dead in a bar, spying on Ned. No, it’d have to be a case she was on the brink of solving to get her into a strip joint. Nancy Drew and The Clue of the Exotic Dancer.
An idea hit Melanie. Maybe if she put the outfit on, she could go out and see if Knox was with another woman. Sort of incognito.
With that in mind, she strapped herself into the outfit, which was held together by strips of Velcro. At any second the contraption threatened to fall down. Obviously the costume was made for a much chestier woman.
“It's about time,” the balding man said, pulling her with him through the curtain, and down the hall to another larger one. “We have a room full of drunken firefighters waiting for the grand finale. I want you to go out there and show ’em a good time.”
“Good time?” she repeated, sweat forming on her upper lip.
Music started. Burn, Baby, Burn blared from speakers above her head. Loud drunken whoops and whistles came from the other side of the curtain, which had started to open.
Suddenly the ramification of what was happening hit her like a semi-truck. She was their entertainment. Was expected to dance. Too bad she had two left feet.
Melanie slumped against the wall and closed her eyes. How had she gotten herself into this mess? All she’d wanted to do was talk to Knox, explain why she hadn’t answered his calls.
Not parade around in a get up such as this in order to do that. How was she going to get out of this mess without looking like a fool?
The curtains moved inch by terrifying inch, cementing her fate. All these men were expecting a show. Would she give them one or hightail it out of here without getting the chance to see Knox? Her time was running out, and her options. If she left now she’d never know what he was doing on the other side of that curtain. If he was cozying up to a stripper, planning to take her home.
An image of him doing that made her stomach ache. She didn’t plan to let him leave with one of these ladies if she had a way of preventing it.
The curtain inched further and she saw a few men sitting next to the stage, all watching the curtain.
Melanie swallowed hard, noticing the pole in the middle of the stage.
Maybe she could just spin around the thing for a while? Hope that would satisfy them long enough for her to spot Knox and check out what he was doing. She refused to go any further. Nothing was coming off—including the look of horror she was sure played over her face.
The curtain slid completely open and it was show time.
* * *
Knox watched his 901 buddies. A table full of them directly in front of the stage looked as if they were going to fall out of their chairs. Beer bottles littered the tabletop and some had fallen onto the floor.
He’d been at the club close to three hours, drinking cola, amazed at how mature men became raving fools in a matter of hours. Drinking looked different through sober eyes.
Michael had left the room with one of the ladies, and Knox didn’t even want to think about what he was doing. Hopefully it wasn’t something his fiancée would find out about later. He’d hate for a relationship to end because of a bachelor party indiscretion.
The music started, which meant another stripper was going to perform. His friends were getting rowdier by the second. The last stripper was going to face a lot of abuse before her show was over.
He took another drink of his cola, watching the curtain open. The performer was standing behind the pole with her back to them. Her costume a miniature version of their own uniforms, helmet and all. The men in front of the stage started to whoop, chanting for
the stripper to take it off.
Knox would be embarrassed for them if he hadn’t done the same immature things a time or two himself.
True, in her profession, she should be used to such behavior—putting up with all kinds of indignities—but being sober made him more conscious of it all. What a lady, such as she was, would feel about being razzed like this.
Knox returned his attention to the stage and saw the woman had red hair. Until he’d met Melanie, the color hadn’t appealed to him. He’d actually never dated a woman anything like her. The skinny waif of a woman had changed his tastes completely. Though having a future together, after seeing her for who she was—a selfish, self-centered brat—would never happen.
“Take it off, take it off,” started up again and the dancer spun around the pole. Knox’s jaw dropped.
No way. It couldn’t be. Melanie?
He had to be seeing things. There was no way she was an exotic dancer. For one thing, she wasn’t built like one. The costume she wore fit her poorly, especially at the top. Most strippers he’d seen were double D’s. Melanie was hard-pressed to be a B-cup.
She spun around the pole, her gaze darting around the room. She appeared to be looking for someone—and from the size of her eyes, she was terrified.
Why was she here? Dancing at The Leg Up? She gave exhibitions. She wasn’t one of them.
When she spotted him at the bar, she stopped spinning around the pole. “Hey, baby, come slide down my pole,” Brent hollered, leaning onto the stage to catch hold of her leg. Melanie screamed, and yanked his hands away.
“Come on, baby. How ’bout a little lap dance?” Brent slurred.
In that instant Knox saw red.
He jumped up and stormed to the stage, ready for a fight. No way was anyone pawing the woman he wanted, especially his drunk and disorderly friends.
At the stage, Knox tapped Brent’s back. His friend had a tight hold on Melanie’s leg again and had started dragging her toward him.
Brent turned, still holding her ankle. He smiled when he saw Knox. “Knox, buddy, tell the lady I’ll pay extra if she’ll sit in my lap.”
Fire & Ice Page 8