Drop Everything Now

by Thomas, Alessandra

  “Not unless you count ‘me’ as ‘someone.’”

  I cupped his face in my hands, checking it for bruises. “Seriously,” I barked. “Tell me.”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “You know what I don’t like?” I asked as I sat up straight, staring at him. “Not knowing what happened to you that put you in this much pain.”

  “It was…work.”

  My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I hadn’t seen him at the Starr that day, and it was too early for him to be at the Smitten Kitten. That job didn’t start until 11 p.m. “Was it at rehearsal? Did you land on it funny?”

  He barked out a short laugh, then winced again. “You know, that would be a whole lot easier of an explanation.”

  “This is not funny at all. Tell me.”

  “Just…promise you won’t get mad. I’m only going to tell you the truth because…” He raised his eyes to mine, and that same flash of emotion I’d seen on the very first day we met was there, clear was day. “Because I care about you so much.”

  My breaths quickened. That was the kind of talk that would typically have me straddling him and tearing my shirt off, but obviously that was not a great option right now. “Okay.” I said, folding my hands in my lap. “What happened?”

  He blew out one more breath. “Well, remember two weeks ago, at the Kitten? When you were on stage with me?”

  “Yes.” I held back a smile. The truth was, I would never, ever forget that night. That was the night that part of me, a part I’d been holding back for so many years, finally broke free.

  “Well, Kat was watching. She’s always watching, you know. And she’s always looking for new business opportunities.”

  “Sure,” I said. I still couldn’t see where this was going for the life of me.

  “The club’s not the only business she runs,” he said. “I mean, it’s all part of the same business, but she also contracts guys out for parties. Sorority parties, bachelorette parties, bored-rich-lady parties. The guys go, collect, do a private strip for the ladies, and come home.”

  I didn’t like where this was going. The strange jealous feeling cropping up inside made my breaths short and my heart stutter around in my chest like a crazed hummingbird. “What did they do to you?”

  “Andi, I swear. It’s no touching still. Not a single one of them touched it, okay?”

  “So what happened, Ry?”

  “The private strips pay the most if they’re virgin strips—meaning a guy’s first time.”

  “But it’s not your first time. You’ve probably stripped hundreds of times at the Kitten.”

  I knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth again. “It’s my first time doing a full strip.”

  A deep sense of horror washed over me. I knew Bryan—or, rather, Ryder—was a stripper, but I’d been operating on the assumption that he was teasing and pleasing only, never, ever doing a full strip. Something about other women seeing his dick, being close enough to touch what my hands had caressed or lick where my tongue had been… It was just. Not. Okay. At all.

  I looked away and counted slowly to five, trying to keep my breathing even. “I still don’t understand what happened.” Don’t be mad, Andi. He’s not your boyfriend. You were just sucking and fucking and having a good time. You never made any promises.

  My brain knew it, but I realized in that moment, my heart definitely did not believe it.

  Bryan’s voice was low, a little shaky. “When you do a full strip, they don’t want to see a limp dick. But, you know, when you’re dancing for money, it’s work. It’s not easy for the guys to. So the guys who do a full strip…they use the pump.”

  I closed my eyes, trying at the same time to envision and block out the idea of a pump that makes a guy hard.

  “Rob said to pump it until, like, pain level three, right?” Bryan continued. “But I figured, I’m a big guy. I could use a little extra.”

  I shook my head again, my eyes still closed.

  “Well, I got it up for the show, but it hurt like a motherfucker the whole time. When I untied it—”

  “Untied it?” I asked, my voice growing high-pitched and hysterical.

  “Yeah, you have to sort of…tourniquet it off at the base to keep the blood there.”

  I squeaked and covered my mouth with both hands.

  “Andi, please. You’ve gotta understand.” I blew out a slow breath. “It had these red splotches on it. At first, they were really small, but then they got bigger, and now it’s…like…bruised.”

  We sat together for three quiet breaths. My eyes slowly drifted down to the bag of peas. “You don’t want to see it,” he said softly.

  “No, I don’t want to see it. But holy shit, Bryan. What made you do this?”

  “Like I said, it was good money.”

  “You weren’t making enough money?”

  He looked away, and that look I was recognizing as shame flittered across his face. “I heard from Chris last week. It had been months. Half a year at least. But he’s in trouble again, and this time, it was bad. The guys he fell in with were threatening to do really bad things to him. To my mom.”

  “What kind of guys is he falling in with? Business guys?”

  Bryan sighed. “Sort of.”

  “But you were saving,” I said, my voice shaky. “To do the realtor thing.” We’d talked about it a lot over the last few weeks. He’d invest in his own realty business—or maybe just his share in one—to support a career over the long haul. It was his big dream of leaving the stripper life, having a normal job that didn’t make him get naked and stay up all night. In my most euphoric moments, I’d envisioned us living that life together.

  “I hadn’t saved enough. Not nearly enough to cover this one.”

  “Oh,” I said softly.

  “Anyway, now that plan is shot to hell. I can’t work again for at least a week. Maybe two.”

  I scooted on the bed beside him, gingerly, trying not to move the mattress too much. I laid my head softly on his shoulder and reached over his waist to twine my fingers with his. At first, I didn’t know what I thought of the whole situation, except for two things: one, there was nothing I could do about it now; and two, I was still magnetically attracted to him. Not only his body—clearly, the most useful part was out of commission for the time being—but his presence. Even though it was a pretty shitty circumstance, the fact that Bryan had done everything he could to help his brother resonated with me—probably because I had given up an entire life just to be with my mom.

  “Did you call him? Tell him you can’t help out?”

  “Yeah, I did,” Bryan said softly. “He wasn’t happy, but what can he do?”

  At that moment, a heavy fist pounded on the door.

  “Bryan! Seriously, motherfucker, open up!”

  I sat bolt upright. “Is that him? Chris?”

  Bryan’s head fell back against the wall for a second, and he sighed. “Yeah. I’d recognize that high-ass voice anywhere. Shit.”

  When he started to move his leg off the bed, I gripped his arm. “No, no way. You stay right here. Don’t you move. I’ll get it.”

  “Andi, wait, I…”

  But I was off the bed in a flash and wrenching open the door before he could get the rest of the sentence out. I hadn’t exactly dealt with that many people that sounded as pissed as Chris did, but then again, I wasn’t a tiny little thing and Bryan had never mentioned that he was dangerous. Just…moody.

  Chris’ eyes stared down into mine, bloodshot and crazed. “Who the fuck are you?” he spat. “Are you Bryan’s little fuck buddy? Nice to know that he’s in here getting his rocks off while I’m about to get fucked over a barrel by a bunch of thugs.”

  “Jesus, Chris, language.” Bryan called from inside the room. “You have no right to talk to Andi like that
. And don’t call me a motherfucker, you know I hate that.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re the good boy. Mama’s favorite can’t be called a motherfucker, no way.”

  “Look, I know you’re pissed. But you need to calm down. Andrea’s here, and she didn’t ask for this.”

  Bryan spoke with measured, practiced words, and I glanced back to see his face etched with pain. How many times had he had to deal with shit like this? More importantly, why did he put up with it? If there was one thing Mom always taught me about the company I kept, it was that anyone who swore at me wasn’t worth my time. Needless to say, Chris wasn’t making a great first impression. I stood in the doorway with my hands on my hips, my body rigid, glaring at him.

  “Oh, fuck buddy has a name, huh?” he snarled. “Must be getting serious.”

  Shakily, Bryan stood up from the bed, dropping the bag of peas on the floor. It sounded like watery slush by now. “Okay, that’s enough, asshole. Just because I don’t have all the money you need does not mean you can barge in here and insult my girlfriend. It’s your mess, and this time, you’re gonna have to get out of it.” He shuffled over to Chris and, somehow, stood up to his full height, which was about four inches taller. “Don’t come back here. Do you understand? I’ll call you if I can come up with the cash, but considering that I basically broke my dick trying, it’s unlikely.”

  I expected Chris to snarl back, but his mouth dropped open and he howled with laughter. His hands shook as he paced back and forth, clasping them together over and over again. He shook his head in rapid bursts, like he was trying to shake water out of his ear. I’d seen one or two manic patients at the hospital, dealing with a variety of stuff, and even though this didn’t look exactly the same, it was clear this was not a regular outburst.

  “Holy shit, bro,” he said.

  Bryan turned away, disgusted. He settled back on the bed, and this time his face betrayed an enormous amount of pain. “Holy shit is right.”

  “Well, do you at least have a little bit of cash? Anything helps, man,” he rattled off. His voice seemed to go faster every second. As I studied him and his wide eyes and jerky movements, I caught sight of a red smudge under his nose.

  Bryan grabbed a rumpled white envelope, fat with cash, and tossed it at Chris. “My fee plus tips, asshole. Just promise me you won’t come back here again. And if I hear you bothered Mom about this, I will have your ass. Do you understand me?”

  Chris folded the envelope into his back pocket. “Yeah, I promise. You won’t see me again anytime soon,” he said over his shoulder as he left. Then the door slammed shut.

  My feet felt planted to the floor. I stood there, my brain working a mile a minute trying to process everything. The manic state. The speedy talking. The demands for cash. The evidence of a recent nosebleed. Slowly, I made myself move, one step at a time, to Bryan’s side.

  “He’s not just mentally ill, is he?” I asked quietly.

  Bryan pressed both palms to his cheeks, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was crying or just exhausted, but when he finally pulled them away, his eyes were red and watery.

  He sighed. “You’re right. I mean, he is sick. Really sick, mentally. But a big part of that is the addiction.”

  “To what?”

  “First, it was alcohol, then pot. That led to cocaine quickly enough. I think it’s still cocaine, though at one point he was selling ecstasy to finance the crack.”

  “Dammit.” I let my head fall to his shoulder. This wasn’t even my brother—not even technically any of my business—but I felt stunned, like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I knew enough about addiction to know that this was really, really bad.

  “Is he dangerous?” The words trembled out of me. I didn’t know much about crack addicts, but I knew that the violence and wildness in Chris’s eyes had terrified me.

  Bryan pulled me tight to him. “Did he scare you?”

  “Yeah.” If there was any time for honesty, this was it. “I wish you had told me.”

  “If I had, would you have been with me?” he whispered.

  There were about ten different answers for that. Yes, no, or maybe, depending on how he told me. I ached, knowing that his fear of me finding out about his brother kept him from telling me, but maybe it hurt more that he hadn’t told me at all.

  “What about rehab?” I asked with stilted breath.

  “He’s been in three times. All funded by yours truly. Along with the failed business ventures to fund the crack or sell the crack or both. I found that out after I’d co-signed the loan or fronted the money. That’s where almost all my cash from the Kitten has gone for the last three years.”

  I turned my head, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, and at the touch of my lips, I felt him relax. I hated to ask the next question, but I did anyway. “So why don’t you quit? Let the state take care of him.”

  He took in a sharp, wet gasp of air, and I didn’t have to look at him to know that the tears were back. I would let him cry without staring at him. I gripped his upper arm hard. Just to let him know I was there.

  “I can’t. I just can’t. He’s my brother, you know? I can’t see him starve or become homeless or get arrested. I don’t know. Part of me knows it would be for the best, and then I think about my mom. She doesn’t really know the half of this, you know? She’s already been fucked over by one asshole when my dad left us, and she loves my brother. The two of us are all she has. I don’t want her to get fucked over by him, too.” And then his chest shook, and I nodded, and we sat there for a long while, just like that.

  When Bryan’s head grew heavy on my shoulder, I pressed a kiss to his forehead and roused him long enough to bustle around the tiny room, getting him a new ice pack and a glass of water for his nightstand. I even took a couple minutes to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth before settling in next to him again. Just seconds after I did, his breaths became slow and heavy, and I sighed, willing myself to fall asleep, too.

  This was a fucked-up world where we had to take care of the people who should have been taking care of us.

  But we were the only two people in the world who could take care of each other.

  Chapter 19

  I’d already scheduled the next two days off. I’d become a favorite of Gladys’ by some miracle, and she let me take Tuesday and Wednesday, the lowest-tip days in cocktail waitress world, off to focus on papers I had to get done.

  I woke up in the same position I’d fallen asleep in—on Bryan’s shoulder, with a gross stream of drool pooling on my cheek. I jerked awake to hear him laughing. When he shifted toward me and pulled my head back to his shoulder, I groaned. “That is so gross. I’m so sorry.”

  He laughed. “Please. I’ve licked every inch of you. A little bit of your drool on my shoulder is a small price to pay for you still being here.”

  That made my stomach drop, and I sat up again. “What do you mean? Of course I’m here. I mean…” I blew out a breath. “I don’t love it that that’s how I found out about your brother. But things have been…undefined between us, you know? There’s no relationship handbook that tells you how to do deal with crack-addicted brothers.”

  He shrugged, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “I don’t know. Ever since all this shit with Chris started, I’ve been taking care of him, and I guess taking care of my mom, too. It’s been a long time since someone’s taken care of me.”

  A lump rose in my throat. For the first time, I realized that that’s exactly how I felt about him, too. “You know, you took care of me when I first got here.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve seen you taking care of yourself since day one. And your mom, too. Don’t discount that.”

  “I don’t, but seriously. I was a disaster, Bryan, and you made sure I was okay. You helped me to my room, you brought me dinner, you found me a job and a place to stay
.”

  “Well, that was a little selfish,” he said. “I mean, I don’t think I was really thinking about it that way back then, but I think…ah…”

  His eyes met mine with that intensity I’d grown to love so much. Love. Don’t be stupid, Andi, this is just about letting go and having fun.

  It had started out that way, but was it still?

  “But what?” I murmured.

  “I wanted you close to me. You came here to do the thing that was most you out of anything—taking care of other people. And, you know, I think I could see that.”

  “Jesus.” I swallowed, stunned at how perfectly, exactly right he’d gotten everything.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “No, no.” I said, taking care to look back as steadily into his eyes as he looked into mine. “I love that. And, for what it’s worth—” My words rushed out. “—I’ve always seen the real you, too, you know.”

  “Even…”

  “Yes, even at the Kitten. All those other guys throwing their dicks around in our faces? Made me laugh. Ask Cara. I seriously had the giggles. But as soon as you were on stage, I wanted to be next to you. I never do that kind of thing. I didn’t even care how it happened, just that I could have my hands on you. Right then.”

  He grabbed the back of my head, pulling my lips hard to his. I sucked in a breath, half of surprise and half of pleasure, and returned the urgency of the kiss.

  But a split-second later, he broke it, leaning back with his features twisted.

  “What?” I asked. “What happened?”

  He fumbled around on the covers for the bag of peas, now a long-melted bag of mush. “We can’t. That cannot happen until this is all better. I can’t get hard. It hurts like a bitch.”

  I covered my mouth, mostly to hide the smirk forming there. “Just that kiss?”

  He nodded slowly. “Just that kiss, baby. It’s always been like that. Since the very first one.”

  I grinned. “Really?”