TRASHY
(a Take It Off novel)
She’s trying to move on, but the past won’t let her go.
I fell in love once.
It was a big mistake, but the biggest mistake of all was staying with him.
He pushed me around. He cheated and treated me like trash.
I don’t feel sorry for myself, because I let him.
But no more.
I moved out. I'm saving my stripper's salary for an education that will get me somewhere better.
But breaking the chains of a shitty past isn’t easy. He says I owe him. He says we aren’t done. I don’t care what he says anymore.
I do care about Adam.
But my history tells me I’m not the best judge of men. And the fact Adam’s been married four times tells me he probably isn’t a safe choice.
I need safe. I need better. I need out.
If the past is any indication of my future, getting out isn’t going to be easy.
TRASHY
Take It Off Series
CAMBRIA HEBERT
TRASHY Copyright © 2014 CAMBRIA HEBERT
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Published by: Cambria Hebert Books, LLC
http://www.cambriahebert.com
Interior design and typesetting by Sharon Kay
Cover design by MAE I DESIGN
Edited by Cassie McCown
Copyright 2014 by Cambria Hebert
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-938857-59-1
Table of Contents
Contents:
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
Author's Note
DEDICATION
I always said I wanted to write a “trashy” novel. Guess I can check that off the bucket list.
TRASHY
“My past has not defined me, destroyed me, deterred me, or defeated me; it has only strengthened me.”
—Steve Maraboli
PROLOGUE
Roxie
High school…
The distinct sound of bowling balls cracking against pins reverberated through the entire building, echoing out the door and into the parking lot. We stood by a row of cars while a couple people in our group smoked the last of their cigarettes before going in to claim our lane.
I lived in a small town; most people probably didn’t even know it was on the map. It was surrounded by mountains and had just as many bars as it did churches. The economy here sucked, and it seemed like the general population was aging. The young people could be broken down into two groups:
1) Those who got stuck here and never left
and
2) Those who got out and never came back
The unfortunate people who fell into group one usually worked in jobs they hated for too little pay and grew more bitter as they aged.
I planned on being in group two and getting the hell out of here as soon as I could. Like right after high school. There had to be more out there than this.
I’d worked hard to keep up my grades. I’d kept my nose clean and stayed away from drugs. Two more years and I could bid this town good-bye and start over, hopefully somewhere warmer.
“Can we go in?” I said. “It’s freezing out here.”
January in a tiny town in Maryland was one reason I would never smoke. Who wanted to stand outside in the freezing cold just to get a fix?
“Hey, we’re going in!” Lena yelled out, and we started up the little ramp that led inside. Lena and I had been best friends since middle school when we were randomly sat at the same table. She was outgoing and didn’t seem to mind I wasn’t. We became fast friends, and she introduced me to her circle, who, in turn, became my friends too.
Lena was the pretty one. The one who always got sidelong glances from the guys in the hallway. When a school dance was held, she always had offers, always had a date.
I was sort of invisible beside her.
Okay, people saw me. It wasn’t as if I were a ghost. But I wasn’t really the main attraction. No guy ever looked at me just a little too long because I’d caught his eye. Every guy I’d ever crushed on thought of me like a sister or didn’t even know I existed. I’d never been to a school dance because no one ever asked me.
Yeah, I could go alone.
How pathetic would that be?
I pretended I didn’t want to go. I pretended school dances just weren’t my thing. But they were my thing. And every time the sweetheart dance or homecoming dance would roll around, something inside me would shrink just a little, because no one thought I would make a good date.
I liked to think that I was waiting, that no other guy would matter until the right one came along. That the guy who noticed me first, the one who stared just a little too long… he was the one who mattered. He was the one who deserved my heart.
Besides, falling in love in this town would just make my plan of getting the hell out even harder. I wanted love. I wanted to see that look in someone’s eye; you know, the look where you are their entire world.
But I wanted out of here more.
Inside, the center was packed. If we hadn’t reserved a lane for cyber bowling, we wouldn’t have gotten one. Cyber bowling was one of the town’s only things to do here on the weekend, besides getting drunk and partying at someone’s house whose parents weren’t home.
And we did plenty of that.
But sometimes we wanted to get out. To see and be seen.
Bowling at midnight on a Friday, with nothing but black lights, flashing strobes, and a blaring jukebox, was the way to do it.
Yes. I found it extremely ironic that we went out to see and be seen where they shut off all the lights.
There used to be a club, a teen club, just fifteen minutes up the road. It was the kind of place we couldn’t go to without our male friends, because a group of girls there alone was ripe for the picking. Your ass got grabbed; you got propositioned; you got leered at. One time I got hauled onto the dance floor by some drunk guy (who likely was not a teenager) who locked his arms around me and refused to let go.
I’m pretty sure he wasn’t the guy I’d been waiting for all my life.
Gross.
“You know you want these,” Lena said, handing over a pair of ass-ugly brown loafers that Velcro-ed closed.
“Girl, I am going to rock th
ese,” I quipped and strutted over to our lane.
She laughed and followed along. A couple guys a few lanes away whistled at her.
Lena had long, thick blond hair, curves that probably made her daddy crazy, and a laugh that made you think she had quite a bit of naughty under all that nice.
I had plain brown hair, plain brown eyes, and the only curves I had were from the cell phone in the back pocket of my jeans.
“Did we get two lanes?” I asked, glancing at the one right beside ours. It was empty too.
“Christy invited her boyfriend. He’s bringing his friends,” Lena said, strapping on her ugly shoes.
Christy was another friend of ours. She was dating a senior at the other high school here in this town. I’d seen him around, but never really talked to him. My stomach felt a little funny thinking about a whole lane of guys we didn’t know next to us all night. Not that it mattered. They would all fall over Lena when they saw her.
The rest of our friends filtered in from the cold, and we all stood around laughing and poking fun at each other and our ugly feet. Christy was sitting on her boyfriend’s lap when several guys walked up. Kevin (Christy’s boyfriend) stood and gave them all high-fives and fist-bumps.
I swear cavemen probably did the same thing back in the day when they clubbed their dinner and dragged it home.
I turned away and started entering names into the screens overhead, the one that kept our scores. Bowling started in like five minutes and someone had to do this. After I filled out our lane’s lineup, I switched over to Kevin’s, typing in his name first.
Lena came up beside me, a guy right behind her. “This is Ben,” she said.
I gave him a wave and typed in his name.
“There is also a PJ, Chris, and…” Lena’s voice trailed off as she looked toward the group of guys, trying to see who else was here.
“I don’t know the other guy’s name,” she whispered.
Ben had already wandered off to find a ball.
“He can type it in,” I said, stepping away from the computer.
“It’s Craig,” a low voice whispered in my ear.
His breath feathered over my ear, causing my eyes to droop just a little. Goosebumps raced down my spine and filled my toes, making them tingle.
I turned to glance over my shoulder.
He had blue eyes.
He was still incredibly close.
“What?” I said, unable to look away.
“My name,” he said, giving me a half smile. “For the screen.” He motioned, reminding me it was there.
“Oh,” I said. “Right.”
He grinned. He had a dimple on each side of his mouth. Broad shoulders. Full lips. And a backward baseball hat pulled over his forehead.
I was staring.
I couldn’t not stare at him.
“You any good at bowling?” he asked.
How had I not seen him around before? Where the hell had he been?
“The best,” I said. “I always win.”
He flashed a grin. “Not tonight. I don’t lose. Especially to a girl.”
Is he flirting with me?
“Roxie,” Lena called, stepping up to my side. “You’re up.”
This was the part where I would lose his attention. This was the part where he saw he had better options.
He gave Lena the what up gesture with his chin.
He kept his eyes on me.
He kept his eyes on me.
I smiled. “I hope your ego can handle it when you lose tonight. Especially to a girl,” I told him.
“Game on,” he said, backing toward his lane, not once looking away.
Butterflies lifted their wings and took flight in my belly.
Lena pulled me away and shoved me near the thingy that returned your ball. Cool air blew up from the vent, causing a few strands of my hair to float out around me.
“You know him?” she whispered.
“No. Do you?” I whispered back.
“Just that he’s a friend of Kevin’s.”
I nodded. I didn’t tell her how hot I thought he was. I didn’t mention the freaking butterfly sanctuary inside my middle. I calmly picked up the ball I was going to use and walked toward the center dot in front of the lane.
I would be silly to mention it when I knew he probably wasn’t interested.
Before I overthought it, I stole a glance over my shoulder. He was sitting in the chairs, laughing at something one of the guys said. His dimples were on full display.
But even though he was having a conversation with them, he was still looking at me.
I looked away. A little thrill of something shot through me. I stared down at the pins, barely even registering them.
Maybe he’s the one you’ve been waiting for, my heart whispered.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
1
Roxie
Present Day
A creepy feeling crawled over my skin, making me shiver and smack at my arms like there was some long-legged hairy spider climbing its way over my body. I abandoned what I was doing and stood, cocking my head to the side to listen. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The only sound that filled the air was the insistent hum of the clothes dryer.
There were no heavy footfalls echoing down the steps. No ominous sounds of heavy breathing reached my ears (Come on, you know creepy, no-good people all breathe heavily).
My phone went off, making me jump and let out a little shriek.
I was being ridiculous. I was being paranoid.
One glance at the screen and the number I didn’t recognize and my belly did a little nosedive. After disregarding the gut feeling of being watched, I hit the IGNORE button and dropped the cell into the bottom of the basket. Not caring if my clothes were completely dry, I wrenched open the dryer and pulled out the pile of damp fabric, dumping it into a heap on top of the stuff I’d already folded. I’d had enough of laundry to last me a lifetime. ‘Course, maybe I wouldn’t hate the chore so much if I didn’t have to haul it all across the parking lot and down two flights of stairs.
What was it with landlords? Did they all get together one night and decide they would put their laundry facilities in the grossest, most inconvenient places possible just to torture the tenants?
There are worse things in life than having to hike a mile to wash your clothes. I snorted at the thought because it was so true.
It was hot down here in this laundry basement. The running dryers and crappy ventilation made the air feel stuffy and hot. It didn’t help that it was humid as hell outside, with a thunderstorm threatening overhead, promising a torrential downpour at any given moment.
After adding my little plastic jug of detergent and dryer sheets into the basket with the clean clothes, I piled it on top of another full, identical basket and hefted them into my arms. After trudging up two flights of steps, I pushed through the door and stepped outside, the humid air not offering the slightest relief from being in that basement.
With a sigh, I headed toward the apartment I shared with my roommate, Harlow. A flash of neon lightning lit up the deep purple-hued sky, reminding me of a strobe light the DJ sometimes turned on at the club.
A sudden colossal boom of thunder caused my body to jerk, and one of my socks fell from the basket and landed on the sidewalk.
“Ugh,” I spat and set the baskets on the ground to fetch my runaway sock. The sound of squealing tires cut through the parking lot, and I jumped up, spinning around with a pounding heart and searching the darkened lot with wide eyes.
It wasn’t late enough to be dark, but this storm was doing a damn good job of hiding the sun and all the light it provided.
On the other side of the parking lot, a red car sped around the corner and disappeared. I blew out a breath and shook my head at my own paranoid behavior. I really needed to quit being so jumpy.
You have a reason to be jumpy, a voice in my head whispered.
After grabbing up the baskets once more, I
walked the rest of the way to my apartment and up the stairs. Once inside, I dumped the baskets on the floor and went in the kitchen for a cold water and eyed the contents of the fridge as I drained half the bottle.
We were running low on food.
I smiled. Cam called it girl food. Cam and Harlow had been together for months now, and he split his time between here and his place. Since he stayed so often we kept Pop-tarts and bacon around because that was his version of man food.
It was my turn to do the shopping since Harlow went last week. I’d just add that to the list of chores I did not want to do. The digital clock on the microwave stared at me, the red numbers jumping out as if to remind me I was going to be late if I didn’t hurry up.
After setting my cell on the kitchen counter, I took my laundry into my room and set it beside the bed. It was clean. It was folded (well, most of it). I could put it away later. I moved quickly, almost on autopilot, and unzipped my duffle bag to toss in a couple handfuls of clothing. I didn’t even pay attention to what outfits I was packing. It really didn’t matter. They were all basically the same anyway.
When a girl worked as a stripper, the only important part about her wardrobe was that it came off easily.
Once that was finished, I grabbed a simple cotton dress, a pair of panties, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I felt gross after doing laundry and chores all day. Hopefully a cold shower would freshen me up a bit and get me ready for tonight.
I wasn’t new to being a stripper. I’d been taking off my clothes for money for a couple years now. Even still, sometimes the fact that this was my life still shocked the hell out of me.
How did I get here?
It was a question I asked myself a million times.
The answer was always the same.
Him.
I closed my eyes as I rinsed the sudsy shampoo out of my water-drenched locks. It was easy to blame someone else for the choices I’d made, but I knew deep down I was more responsible than anyone for being where I was today.
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