by L A Cotton
I should have cared—I didn’t.
“You did good, Lys.” Sherri slid a glass across the bar toward her and added, “You want me to come with you? Take the heat for getting you drunk?”
“No. No! I can deal with him.” I hopped down off the stool and smoothed my hands down my dress again. Donnie had demanded my presence at the club, so it was inevitable he wanted to see me.
I didn’t glance back at Sherri and Lyla as I walked toward the back corner of the bar to the door that led into a long hallway. Donnie’s office was the last door on the left. I knocked and entered, pulling on my hardened mask.
“Baby, there you are,” Donnie drawled as he looked up from the leather couch he was sitting on. “Was there a problem?”
“No, no problem. I just wanted to freshen up. Is everything okay?”
Did today go okay? The words lodged in my throat, not that I would have asked them anyway. I knew better.
Donnie rose from his seat and stalked toward me, his eyes raking me up and down causing my whole body to break out in gooseflesh. “You look nice, baby. Real fucking nice.”
I sucked in a silent breath. Donnie’s eyes were darkened, full of lust and something much worse. He reached me and buried one of his hands in my waves. “Come here.”
Something was wrong. I’d learned to predict Donnie’s behaviors, and right now, the way he brushed the hair off my shoulder and curled his fist around it had my heart thumping in my chest.
In one swift movement, Donnie’s hand tightened on my hair. Pain ricocheted up my scalp, but I swallowed the cry that tried to tear from my throat. He yanked me around until he was positioned behind me. “Look at yourself.” He forced me forward. The full-length mirror reflected the scene back at us.
I stood unmoving in Donnie’s grip. He stared at me through the glass. “Look. At. Yourself. You see this?” His free hand roughly roved over my dress, up and over stomach and to my tits. This.” He squeezed hard, and I bit down on my lip to keep the tears at bay. “Is. Mine.”
Donnie’s eyes were wild. His jaw ticked, the carotid artery pulsating in his neck. “Tell me, Joy. Say the words.”
“I am yours.”
Each word shattered another sliver of my soul. Soon, there wouldn’t be anything left to give.
He relaxed his grip on me and his touch softened. Donnie smiled into the mirror. “I love you, baby. So fucking much.”
The words were like bullets ripping through me. I’d heard them a million times, but it was always the same. What Donnie and I shared wasn’t love. It was lust for him. Survival for me.
Desperation.
Love made you feel warm and safe and comforted, didn’t it? Not scared and sad and tired. So tired. This couldn’t be love; it was ugly and wrong and devastating.
It had ruined me.
Needy lips connected with my neck, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to watch him lose himself in me. Donnie’s hands became frantic, clawing and pawing at my dress, my skin. His mouth moved up and down the column of my neck, licking and sucking. It was as if he was marking me. Claiming me. His actions were possessive, territorial, and it hit me. He’d seen Dawson.
I didn’t have time to process the realization, as a loud knock sounded on the door. “Boss, you’re needed out front.”
Donnie paused holding me close to him. I waited. No one demanded things of Donnie, not even his right-hand men. In the past, I’d watched him beat members of his own staff to a pulp because of a question they’d asked or the tone of their voice. He was unstable. Volatile.
You never knew which side of Donnie would rear its ugly head.
“I’m coming.”
Relief washed over me. In a life with Donnie DeLuca, you had to steal these rare moments and bask in them because you never knew what was coming next. He pressed one more kiss to my neck and righted himself. “Come on, we have guests to attend to.”
The two big loves in Donnie’s life were his business and me. At that moment, I’d never been more thankful for coming in second place.
More bodies had arrived at Shakers. I recognized a few familiar faces as Donnie guided us to his reserved seating area off to the side of the bar. Outside on the streets of Chancing, life coasted along, but in here, everything was bigger, more lavish … just more. Even the dregs of the town who came to forget about their lives had to adhere to Donnie’s strict dress code. It was ironic really that anyone could come to watch girls strip for a few dollars and get high on their drug of choice for the evening as long as they were wearing dress shoes and a shirt. To fresh eyes, Shakers looked every bit the upmarket strip club and bar, but it was all smoke and mirrors.
“Hey, everything good?” Sherri whispered as we joined her and a couple of Donnie’s inner circle in the reserved section.
I gave her a curt nod before sitting down.
“Joy.” Sal half-smiled before lighting up a cigar.
The three men started talking business. Donnie’s hand massaged my knee, his grip firm as I listened to Sherri moan about some of the girls living at her place. I saw her lips moving but heard nothing. I was too lost in my own thoughts. Donnie had seen Dawson. They had been in the same room together.
“Joy, earth to Joy?” Sherri’s eyes bunched together. “I asked if you wanted a drink?”
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
Donnie barked out, “Three whiskey chasers.”
My head whipped around in his direction. Donnie usually spent the week sober. He caught my reaction and said, “A toast to Beth.” His eyes narrowed waiting for my reaction.
I didn’t give him one. Instead, I turned away and stared out across the room.
The whiskeys kept coming. Between Sherri, Peter, and Sal, they kept Donnie with a permanent drink in his hand. Other people drifted in and out of our section. Business associates, a couple of the girls, Lyla.
I was certain Sherri felt it too, and more than once, we shared a look.
“When’s the new girl going to be ready, Sherri? We could use something new to look at in here. Am I right, Sal?”
My blood boiled and I swung my head around to glare at Donnie. He was drunk. His eyes were glazed and he had a slight sway to him.
“When she’s eighteen, Don. You know my rules,” Sherri said throwing me an apologetic glance.
Donnie leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at Sherri. “Remember who pays your salary.”
Sherri seemed unfazed by Donnie’s warning. She rolled back her shoulders and crossed one of her long legs over the other. “And you ought to remember who runs shit around here for you.”
Sal clasped Donnie on the back. “The boss just wants to keep things fresh. Nothing wrong with that, Sherri.”
She huffed and angled herself away from them. Donnie’s hand landed on my knee again and he leaned in close, his bitter breath lingering on my skin. “Joy, you look too good to waste tonight. You should be on display. I want everyone to know you’re mine and mine alone. Dance for me, baby.”
“Wha-what?” The words just spilled out.
Donnie had made me do some perverse things in the last two years but never had he paraded me in the club. I didn’t dance.
“You heard me. I want you to dance for me, baby.” His hand gripped my knee like a vise. Sherri noticed our exchange and opened her mouth, but I shook my head slightly. Her eyes grew sad, but I didn’t need her pity.
Turning to Donnie so that our mouths were almost touching, I said, “You don’t want everyone to see me, baby. This …” I glanced down at the space between us and back up again, “is only for you.”
Something flickered across his face, and I thought I had reached him, but then it vanished taking my last remaining shreds of dignity with it.
“Get on that fucking stage, Joy. NOW!” he roared, but only our little private party heard him thanks to the thrum of the music and rumble of chatter.
I stood on shaky legs and ran my hands down my dress. Sherri stood up beside me and whispered, “You don’t
have to do this, darlin’. Don’t do it.”
We both knew I had no choice. If I didn’t succumb, Donnie would make me pay in other ways. I squeezed my eyes shut. My body craved a hit. That would make the shame and embarrassment less, but tomorrow, I had a shift at the diner. And I needed that job. More than ever, I needed it.
I settled for vodka. Sherri fetched me a double vodka on the rocks, and I drank it down in one, welcoming the fire burning my throat. The walk to the center podium was my own walk down death row. Each step was heavy and laden, like fighting my way through quicksand. People had started to notice my intention, but I ignored their questioning stares. I was in survival mode now.
A commotion somewhere behind me started, but I blocked it out, focusing on the music and the stage. All I had to do was climb the stairs and dance. That was it. I’d pick a point on the far wall and dance to it. For it. But I would not dance for any of the slime balls here tonight. Not even Donnie.
My foot stepped up onto the first step, but the commotion grew louder, and a hand landed on my arm. A man’s voice perforated my bubble.
“Joy.”
By the time we left Aunt Marie’s, I was ready to get the hell away from Chancing. Everything was a constant reminder of what a failure I’d been as a son and a brother. All afternoon, I’d heard what a wonderful woman my mother was, which was the God’s honest truth, and how Mikey and I had kept her on her toes. But with every story, I felt a fresh wave of guilt because I hadn’t been there for her, at the end or in the years since I left prison.
After Dad’s visit, the one where he’d pretty much told me not to return to Chancing, well… Lex and I had planned and schemed about life after we were released. It was a given that he would join his dad and brother in their private military company, Maverick Defense. When the day came for my release, Lex and his older brother, Aidan, were waiting for me at the prison gates. Lex leaned against a black Jeep wearing the biggest smile possible, and it almost made up for the fact my own family wasn’t waiting for me. Lex was as good as family.
Once we arrived back at the house, Lex and I collapsed on a chair each while Mikey headed straight for the kitchen. Bottles rattled as he yanked open the fridge and reappeared with a beer for each of us. Flopping down on the sofa, he propped his feet up on the coffee table and tipped his bottle in our direction.
“What do you want to do about the house then?” Mikey asked out of nowhere.
“What?” I straightened and stared at him from across the room.
“It’s ours. Mom left it to both of us.” He shrugged, and I continued to stare at him, unable to comprehend the way his brain worked.
“Seriously? What the fuck, Mikey? We just buried her.”
“Sorry. I’m only asking,” he grumbled and picked up the remote control, flicking on the sports channel. I glared at him, and he concentrated on the TV and ignored me. Lex shifted in his seat and leaned forward.
“So … Shakers tonight?” He looked back and forth between the two of us.
Mikey groaned and tipped his head backward. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, staring at the ceiling.
“Why not? A night of mindless drinking, and Lex can get his kicks watching some washed-up chick dance on a podium then come home and jerk off.” I grinned and ducked out the way when he threw a cushion in my direction.
“Fuck off.” But he was smiling at my honest assumption.
Holy fuck, why did I agree to this? Mikey said coming to Shakers was a bad fucking idea, but Lex had insisted. He seemed genuinely excited about going, and while I just wanted to go home and sit in the yard in a lawn chair and get trashed, I felt I owed him. After all, I’d dragged him back with me to this hellhole for a funeral of a woman he’d never met. Lex only knew her through the endless stories I used to tell him when we were inside or stationed out in the desert somewhere, craving a bit normality.
From the minute we walked into Shakers, I felt uneasy. It was dressed up to be something special, but if you looked hard enough, it was your typical seedy club, dark and dingy with lots of dark corners to conceal any number of vices. I was on alert the whole time, and I wasn’t the only one. The way Lex’s body tensed as we made our way from the bar to the table to the right of the stage gave away that he was feeling it too. It didn’t help that I couldn’t make out where the exits were, black curtains hung over every doorway and some were tied back with red cord. The place was a health and safety hazard, and I prayed to God that there wasn’t a fire. The only thing identifying what I assumed was exits were the big, bulky security men standing guard.
Mikey trailed behind us, not happy about being here. He’d tried to talk us out of coming, and while I knew the kind of entertainment Shakers provided wasn’t Mikey’s type of thing, I didn’t understand why he was so against us going. Now, I knew why. I wished I’d fucking listened. As confident as I was in Lex and my talent for fighting or talking our way out of dangerous situations, I didn’t want to find out if we could manage it tonight.
When I noticed the girl in the red stand, straighten her dress, and smooth down her hair, I hadn’t paid much attention, just taken another drink of my beer and resumed scanning the dimly lit room. But then she turned and headed for the stage. My heart jumped into my throat, and I froze, the beer bottle halfway from my lips as I stared. Fucking hell, what was Joy doing here? In a place like Shakers? Dressed like that? My eyes cut across to the table where she’d been sitting and my hand dropped, slamming my bottle to the table when I saw who was sitting with her. Donnie DeLuca, there was certainly no love lost between us—not after he left me high and dry when I’d saved his ass. No wonder he looked so fucking smug at the funeral. What in the hell was she doing here with him?
Before I processed what I was doing, I was out my seat and making my way over to the stage. I was vaguely aware of a loud groan coming from Mikey when I stood, but by the time it registered, I had already crossed the club, my feet sticking to the carpet as I strode over to the stage. It was a dumb move, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. Every instinct told me to get her out of there before she stepped up on that stage. She didn’t belong up there; she was so much better than that. Something about her body language told me she wasn’t comfortable with it either. Perhaps, it was the tension in her shoulders or the way her hands curled into fists at her side.
All good sense along with everything Maverick Defense had taught me flew out the window, my mantra to think before I act. Fuck that. She was not getting up on that stage. My peripheral vision caught movement; Lex and Mikey were moving out of their seats at the same time as Donnie and two security guys were making their way over to me. Too late. I was at the stage reaching out for her as her foot hit the first step, a slight sway to her gait. My fingertips brushed against her skin; electricity skittered up my arm and shocked me with its force. Her head jerked to look at me, wide eyes clouded with confusion. She wobbled on her skyscraper heels.
“Joy.” At the sound of my voice, she turned to look down in my direction, and her mouth formed a small o. Her wide eyes clouded with confusion, replacing the same dull, lifeless look from before.
“Dawson?”
My hand slid down to her wrist and my fingers curled around hers, her nails digging in as she gripped me tightly. Her gaze jumped over the top of my head at the commotion behind me. Fear flickered in her hazel eyes and she tried to pull out of my grasp, but I refused to let go. Instead, I tightened my grip and tugged. Caught unawares, she pitched forward, stumbling off the step and straight into my arms.
Small hands landed on my chest, burning through the material of my shirt with their warmth. Her touch so familiar yet, at the same time, new and exciting. My hands gripped her hips as she righted herself, never taking her eyes from me. I saw a flash of desire, which disappeared the second a loud roar came from behind me.
“Get the fuck away from her.”
I turned, still keeping a hold on Joy as Donnie stormed over to us followed by two bouncers. Lex and Mikey hal
ted a few paces from me as both of them eyed Donnie and the bouncers warily. Donnie’s eyes were wild, his face flushed with anger, and spit had gathered at the corners of his mouth. If he weren’t directing his anger at me, he would look almost comical. Reaching around me, he tried to grab Joy, but I was quicker and maneuvered her behind me. Her palms flattened on my broad back, pressing herself to me.
I forced myself to keep calm or, at least, appear calm. Inside, I was raging as anger coursed through every vein and every cell of my body as I looked at Donnie. Who the fuck did he think he was telling me to keep away from Joy? My Joy.
“She’s with me,” he growled, his eyes narrowing to slits as we stood toe-to-toe. I was a good three inches taller than he was and bigger, much bigger. Gone was the scrawny kid I’d been when we were growing up. Now, I was two hundred and ten pounds of solid muscle. Donnie was no lightweight, but unlike me, not much of it was muscle. His statement took me by surprise. Donnie and Joy? My beautiful, pure, delicate Joy with Donnie. The same Donnie who had hated his family’s connection, his uncle’s business. The same Donnie who was forever telling me to follow the rules and keep out of trouble. The same Donnie who got shy whenever a girl spoke to him. No way.
“With you?”
“She’s my girl,” he sneered, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe that sleazy grin off his face.
“What the fuck? Your girl? Why would you let her dance on the stage like some whore?” I glared down at him. Anger blazed brighter in his eyes, and I wondered where the guy I once knew had gone.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want. I’m the one running this town. Joy.” He snapped his fingers and held out his hand, never once taking his eyes off me.
“I’m sorry, Dawson,” she whispered before the heat from her body disappeared as she emerged from behind me and took his hand. The triumphant look on his face was worse than the sleazy grin.
“A lot has changed since you were last here, Dawson. Do everyone a favor and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.” I bristled at the possessive glint in his eye as his arm slid around Joy’s waist and he tugged her closer. And because I couldn’t take my eyes off her, I saw the shiver that passed through her body. Coupled with the look on her face, I knew she didn’t want him touching her. It did something to me, watching him with her, treating her like that. Like a piece of meat. He was going to make her dance, to belittle herself. And for what? His entertainment.