Married a Stripper

by M. S. Parker

  “Why didn’t he wait?” I whispered. “I was trying to help.”

  “Help with what?” Stuart asked. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Look, this boy has led you around by the nose–”

  “Shut up!” I shouted. Spinning away from him, I shoved my hair back and tried to think. Why hadn’t I told him? I mean, I knew why. I’d been trying to make sure I had everything in place. I hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up and then have things fall apart.

  But if I’d been upfront with him about everything I’d been trying to accomplish over the past couple of days, he would have known I hadn’t just forgotten.

  He wouldn’t have been so desperate.

  “It’s my fault,” I whispered, tears trying to burn their way up through my throat.

  Stuart misunderstood. “Honey, you made a bad choice.”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  Both Astra and I shouted it at the same time. He looked caught off guard and backed up a step before realizing what he’d done. Mouth flattening out, he lifted a hand. “I think you need to take a deep breath and calm down.”

  Shaking my head, I looked over at the folder Stuart had brought with him. The annulment papers. I didn’t want to calm down.

  “You can go now, Stuart.”

  “Piety…”

  “I said you can go!” I turned away, and when I didn’t hear movement behind me, I shouted. “Go!”

  Eleven

  Piety

  I hadn’t touched the scotch from earlier. Now, I wished I’d poured it out. The smell of it made me sick.

  Astra sat across from me on the opposite couch, watching me with worried eyes as I stared at the annulment papers as if they were a snake ready to bite me.

  I almost wish that was the case. A snake bite would be less painful than this.

  It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like we had anything real, right? So why did it hurt so much to hear that he'd walked away?

  “Just because it wasn’t real doesn’t mean it won’t hurt that he just up and left,” Astra said.

  Dazed, I looked up at her. “What?” Then I realized I must have spoken out loud. Shaking my head, I said, “It just doesn’t make sense. I know he didn’t plan to stay, but–”

  “That doesn’t mean you expected him to use the marriage to blackmail your parents into a payoff.” She offered a weak smile and shrugged. “But it sucks. Not that your parents aren’t jerks, but you still don’t want to see them being used.”

  I snorted. “Hell, my parents excel at using people. Maybe I should celebrate that they got used for once.”

  I rubbed my burning eyes and swallowed around the knot in my throat. I would feel better if I could just cry, but the tears refused to come. I was pissed. Pissed-off and hurt. I wanted to cry, and I wanted to scream, and I wanted to throw things. But none of those would solve anything.

  “Why couldn’t he have just waited?” I asked, my voice cracking. “I was trying to help.”

  “Oh, honey…” Astra got up and came around the table, wrapping her arms around me.

  A tear finally managed to break free, and it rolled down my cheek, followed by another, then another. As the dam started to break, I wrapped my arms around Astra and rested my head on her shoulder.

  “Why couldn't he just wait?” The question came out as a sob this time.

  “Maybe it’s better that he didn’t,” she said gently. “If you’re hurting this bad already, think about how much worse it would have been the longer you two were together. This was never meant to last anyway.”

  “But I think I wanted it to.” I finally admitted out loud what I'd been feeling almost from the moment Kaleb and I had begun this charade. Astra wrapped her arms around me and did the only thing she could do. She held me while I cried.

  It wasn’t supposed to be real. But it hurt like it was.

  Part Three

  One

  Kaleb

  “Piece of shit bastard,” I muttered, fuming. I disconnected the call and slammed the phone down although it didn’t do anything to cool the temper burning inside me.

  I’d called Stefano so many times, I’d already lost track.

  The same could be said for Camry.

  Neither of them bothered to call back or even send a text. That was only one of the things that had me in a foul mood.

  Piety had called numerous times that first night and left several messages. But since then, she'd only called twice, and each call had been late. At least late for the eastern part of the United States. She hadn’t left a message, and she hadn’t texted anything either. I almost answered each call. I almost called her back more than once.

  But what the hell would I tell her? That I’d accepted the money from her parents so I could help my sister? That it had been driving me crazy sitting in Philly, doing nothing while she worked on anything?

  Would I tell her that the prick lawyer had been right about there being nothing else I could have done? He was right, even though he was a prick. Maybe he hadn't known why I needed the money, but I had needed it. And I'd needed it bad enough to do something desperate, something that would hurt her. That had mattered more than anything.

  I knew it wasn’t fair to compare my sister’s life to the feelings of a woman I barely knew – even a woman I wanted more than I’d ever wanted anybody. My baby sister needed me and I’d already failed her too many times.

  That thought had me reaching for the phone again, but when I went to check my messages, Piety’s name filled my vision. I read one of the messages again even though I’d already committed all of them to memory.

  Where are you? Is everything okay? I’ve got some news. Call me back, please?

  News. I had no idea what she planned to tell me, but that message had come through while I’d been speeding across the country on a first-class ticket paid for by her parents.

  Even now the thought turned my stomach.

  I went to delete the message, just as I had told myself to do a thousand times over the past couple of days. But before I could, the phone rang.

  “Finally,” I muttered under my breath. There was no name attached to the phone number, but I knew who it was nonetheless. “About time you called.”

  “Easy, easy,” Stefano said. “Why are you so hot under the collar? I would have thought you’d be happy that I was giving you time to get all that cash together.”

  “I want to talk to my sister.”

  “She’s sleeping. Doesn't exactly keep banker's hours.” He sounded amused with himself.

  I wanted to punch my fist through the phone, grab him by his thick neck, and strangle him.

  Twice.

  “When can we meet? I just want it to get it over with.” I sounded calm. Maybe I should have considered an acting career.

  “Yeah, well, me too. But I’ve been busy. I’m a businessman, you know. Your sister isn’t the only fish in the sea, and I’ve got other fish to take care of. Although she is my favorite. I’m going to miss her when she’s gone.” Then his voice went sly. “Assuming she doesn’t come crawling back for more. I can be hard to resist.”

  “Fuck you,” I snapped. “Look, can we just set up a time to meet or what?”

  “You’re in such a hurry. But fine, no small talk.” Stefano laughed and named a place.

  I had no doubt it would be just as sleazy as the first place, but it didn’t matter. Camry was all that mattered now. “What time?”

  “Three.”

  He hung up, and I stood there staring at the phone. I had a bad feeling about this entire thing. But what else was I supposed to do?

  Three o’clock came and went. It was coming up on four-thirty when he finally came in…alone.

  Camry wasn’t with him.

  What the hell?

  I came out of my seat, hands closing into fists.

  He had an easy smile on his face when he saw me. I wanted to knock that smile off his face, and his teeth down his throat.

  “Hey there, Kaleb. How’s it going? You go
t my money?”

  He looked so damn pleased with himself. The arrogant bastard always looked so fucking happy.

  “Where's my sister?” Anger was a huge ugly knot in my gut, but I managed to keep my voice level.

  “That ain’t how this works.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head, looking almost pained as he said it. “See, you gotta pay me what you owe me, and then she’s free to do what she wants. But until you pay me…”

  “I want to see my sister.” I spoke slowly, as if that would make a difference.

  Stefano’s eyes went cold and hard. With a shake of his head, he shouldered past me. “You don’t get to make demands here. I own her.”

  “Did they forget to tell you that slavery ended a long time ago?”

  “So naïve,” he sneered. “Where. Is. My. Money?” He enunciated each word, the cold, ugly threat coming through with every syllable.

  I knew I couldn’t ignore him, this time. I wasn’t worried about me, but my sister? Yes.

  I turned on my heel and went back to the table where I’d been waiting. I sat down and reached for the envelope I’d left on the seat. As he sat down across from me, I slammed it on the table. “There. Now, where is she?”

  “See, that wasn’t so hard.” Stefano shoved the envelope into his coat pocket and leaned back in the seat. He dropped his fingers on the top of the table and looked around, appearing pleased with himself. “So…here’s what happens now. I’ll let her know that her debt is paid in full. She’s free to do whatever she wants. Just like she's always been, since, you know, slavery's illegal and all that.”

  “If she was free to do what she wants,” I said, struggling to keep my temper under control, “then she could have left whenever she wanted.”

  “Hey, man…” He held up his hands, looking wounded. “She owed me money. What was I supposed to do? Just let her walk out and leave me hanging?”

  “Yeah. You’re the injured party here.” I curled my lip at him, so disgusted I could barely stand to be in the same room.

  “Hey, she came to me. Remember that. I didn’t snatch her or something like that. I’m legit.” He hitched up a shoulder and tipped an imaginary hat in a salute before sliding out of the booth. “Nice doing business with you, Kaleb.”

  I almost told him to shove his business up his ass.

  Instead, I shrugged easily. “Tell Camry I’ll be waiting for her call. I want to know where to pick her up.”

  “Hey, I’m sure she’ll be in touch…soon.”

  As he turned and slouched out of the club, I fought the uneasy feeling settling over me. More than anything else, that last comment set me off.

  I’d been leery of this whole mess from the get go, but now I was left wondering if I hadn’t just been played. By both of them.

  Two

  Piety

  “So you see, this client last week…”

  Across from me, one Windsor Kiperman droned on and on. He was a good-looking enough guy, dark brown hair, and amazing hazel eyes streaked with gold. But he was so hung up on work, it was amazing he hadn’t choked on it.

  I nodded politely, trying my best to look like I was interested.

  Really, I should be.

  He was good looking, and well off. Came from the 'right' kind family, and his father was also one of my dad’s biggest campaign contributors. Had an MBA from Columbia.

  In the eyes of my family, it was probably a match made in heaven.

  In my eyes, it was a match made in the doldrums. I'd never been so bored in my entire life. It wasn’t that Windsor was a bad guy or anything. He wasn’t. He opened doors. He’d called up and asked if I had an opinion on where we should go to eat. He was polite, attentive during the drive over.

  And he was so perfectly…boring.

  Finally – finally – he wrapped up his conversation about the client, and I leaned forward, smiling. “What was the last movie you saw?”

  If he kept talking about work, I just might cry.

  He stared at me with a blank expression.

  “I absolutely loved the Avengers movie that came out last spring. Did you see it?” I continued to smile as I reached for my wine, wondering if my face would hurt from that fake, plastic smile.

  “Hmmm. No. Those movies don’t appeal to me.” His comment wasn’t rude. It was just a statement. A polite, boring statement. “I seldom have time for movies. I’m rather surprised you do. I heard you do…charity work?”

  He left the statement hanging, as though it was a question.

  “My charity work?”

  “Yes, I understand you’re involved in some philanthropic sort of work.” He sliced a precise cut off his steak and popped it in his mouth.

  I hadn’t been able to stop noticing that he cut his food in an obsessively neat way. It was like he practically measured how wide of a bite to cut, how long.

  You’re obsessing, Piety!

  “Ah, yes. I suppose you could call it a philanthropy sort of thing.” I shrugged. “I’m a social worker. I work at a homeless shelter.”

  “You work there?” Windsor arched his brows. Now, instead of slicing off another perfect bite of steak, he laid his fork down and leaned forward. Puzzlement stamped all over his features, he studied me.

  “Yes. I work with abuse victims, domestic mostly, but some that are drug or prostitution related.” I expected his eyes to glaze over, but he nodded, looking almost interested.

  “I didn’t realize you actually worked there. I assume you get a paycheck?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Barely. Their budget isn’t much, but I love my job, and it’s an important one.”

  Windsor nodded slowly. “I imagine it is. I’ve been attempting to convince my father into getting the company more involved in philanthropy, and perhaps getting the employees to jump on board, but he’s…slow to see the benefits.”

  “The benefits are helping people out.”

  “Yes, of course. That’s always a positive thing, but that’s not an argument that would work with him.” He shrugged, his eyes sliding away. “I didn’t know you actually worked at this facility. Fascinating.”

  I’d heard too many similar comments, most of them with more than a tinge of superiority, to be insulted. At least Windsor seemed to mean it when he said it sounded fascinating.

  “Yes, well, my parents would much rather it be true philanthropy.” I played with the napkin in my lap. “Dad loves how it looks in front of the camera, but that’s the only way it appeals to him.”

  It sounded terrible, and it made me feel even worse than before. I felt awful about how Kaleb had taken my parents for all that money, and here I was complaining about them. The last thing I needed was more guilt. That was how I'd ended up here.

  I still didn’t want to believe he'd done it. But he hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Without any sort of explanation, what was I supposed to think?

  You’re not supposed to be thinking about him at all, especially on a date.

  Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “So if you’re not into movies, what do you do for fun?”

  No more thinking about Kaleb.

  “Well…” He shrugged sheepishly. “To be honest, I really don’t do much for fun. I just don’t have time.”

  “Oh, come on, everyone has time for a little bit of fun.” I pushed my hair back from my ear and stopped myself from playing with a strand. I didn't want to look as bored and I felt. “I try to read for about fifteen minutes a day no matter how busy I am. I go crazy if I don’t get in something to entertain me. Do you work out, go to the gym?”

  “I work…pretty much all the time.” He held up a hand. “Sometimes I play golf with a client.”

  “But that’s work too.”

  He laughed. “True. I’ll be able to slow down later in life. Right now, I’m still trying to get established and show my dad I can take care of the business. I’ll be the one taking over when he retires, you know.” He cocked his head, a thoughtful look on his face. “What about you? Have
you ever thought about going into politics? Following in your father’s footsteps?”

  I shuddered at the thought. “Hell no.”

  He laughed. “You look like you just ate something that tasted really, really bad.”

  “I feel like I tasted something really, really bad. There’s no way I would go into politics.” I gave an emphatic shake of my head.

  “So what do you plan on doing?” The genuine interest in his voice was…sweet.

  But he didn’t get it.

  “I’m already doing it.” I shrugged. “I love what I do. Sometimes it breaks my heart. Some of it drains me and leaves me exhausted. But at the end of the day, I’m making a difference. That…matters. It’s enough for me.”

  At least it always had been.

  I hadn't felt quite so ready to dive into work recently, although it wasn’t work that was getting to me. I was just finding life in general lacking.

  And I knew why.

  Kaleb.

  And there it was again. I was thinking about him.

  Dammit!

  “What about your father? Don’t you think he’s making a difference?”

  “I think he's too busy to worry about getting re-elected to think about making a difference.” I laughed a little. “Yeah, I don't really put much stock into politics when it comes to...well, much of anything positive.”

  Windsor seemed to realize he'd said something wrong. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean...”

  I waved him off. “It’s okay. Not everybody gets it, but they don’t need to. I’m happy with what I do. I’m more than happy. I feel…complete. At the end of the day, I’m satisfied. I make time for myself, and I do things for fun – now – and I don’t feel the need to do anything to prove myself to anybody. I’m good.”

  “I think I envy you,” Windsor said softly.

  Okay, that surprised me.