by Xavier Neal
“Robert,” I greet the bartender as I slip behind the counter.
“Miss Kent,” he says politely back before handing a martini glass to a giggling woman.
Removing the key I tucked into the top of my dress, I lower myself towards the locked drawer where my purse is kept.
Can't be too careful.
“I'm telling you, Ruth! Her husband is looking for her and Helen's back there right now with him,” the woman snickers. “And can you blame her? I'd let him fine tune me any day.”
Fuck. Me.
Once the card is in my hand, I lock the drawer, and stand up to join their conversation. “Evening ladies.”
“Evening,” they coo back.
“I actually need to speak with Helen. Which direction did she sneak away to?”
The one without a drink in her hand points. “Careful. Her mouth already might be busy.”
It damn sure better not be.
Doing my best to keep my tone even I snip, “Thank you.”
On my way that direction, I slip the business card inside the top part of my dress beside my key.
I'll swing back by after I put out this fire. I knew she was going to try to go after Arik, especially after she couldn't push me enough to sign him, but this is ridiculous. Not only is her husband here and a room full of people desperate to talk about a scandal, that's my boyfriend. No one should be trying to get fined tune except me.
I turn the corner to the service hallway where I spot Arik leaned against the wall with a slightly intoxicated Helen running her finger down his chest.
“Come on Prince A,” she purrs at him. “Give me a private show. Let me see that anchor tattoo again.”
How...
Baffled I interrupt, “How do you know about his tattoo?”
Arik whispers my name, “Ari.”
“Yeah. That's me,” I snidely retort. “Your girlfriend in case that slipped your mind.”
“Girlfriend?” Helen scoffs.
“Right,” I clarify. “Now, how have you see that tattoo?”
He instantly tries, “I can explain-”
“How long have you been dating?” Helen cuts him off with disgust on her face. “Better yet, sleeping with a stripper is one thing, but dating one, Ari? I thought you had more self-respect than that.”
My mouth cracks open.
What?!
Arik takes a step my direction, “Ari-”
“I'm sorry I must've blacked out for a second. Little light headed from barely eating today. Who's a stripper?”
“Prince A.” Helen wraps an arm around his while he gives me a pleading look. “I think Prince A is a much sexier name than Arik.”
“Loose lips, sink ships, Helen,” Arik grumbles pulling his arm away from her.
“This ship is about to sink like the fucking Titanic,” I growl coldly.
“Ari-”
“Helen.” I clear my throat. “Your husband is looking for you.”
“Party pooper.” She gives him one more lingering glance before saying to me, “If you're interested in sharing-”
With a swift ushering of my hand, I demand, “Please go.”
The moment she's disappeared around the corner, he lunges forward, “Baby-”
“Don't you fucking baby me.” I throw my hands up in disgust. “Ever. Again.”
His shoulder sulk. “I can explain-”
“What's there to explain? You're a stripper. That's pretty fucking self-explanatory.”
Am I wrong? Do you need a fucking text book to understand what that means?
“I-”
“You slut for me money. That's fucking awesome,” my voice rumbles. “My goddamn boss has seen you naked?! Is that some sort of sick joke?”
“No. But-”
“How many other women out there have?” His lips twitch to answer when I bite again, “How many fucking women have paid to see what I got to see for free? Or are you charging me for our time together and will just bill me at the break up?” Someone summons me over my headset. “I...I have to go.”
“Ari wait,” he manages to reach me and grab my hand just as I cross into the main event area.
“Get your filthy fucking fingers off of me!” I shout louder than expected.
“Problem?” Our fathers question in unison.
Why are they right here? A million other places around this goddamn event for them to be and they happen to be right here? The sick cosmic jokes continue.
Arik quickly lets go. “No.”
“Everything alright?” My dad asks licking something off his fingers.
Food. They probably followed food over here. Dad has a weakness for crab cakes.
“I'll be fine,” I mumble preparing to walk off. “I have a job to do.”
With one final try, Arik begs, “You have to let me explain, Ari. You have to hear me out.”
In a harsh tone I inform him, “I don't have to do a goddamn thing other than run this event. Now, if you'll excuse me I have to do my job. Try to keep you fucking clothes on and dick in your pants. I'm sure it's a difficult change from your normal job, but something tells me you'll learn to fucking manage.”
There's a grumbling of questions from our fathers that prevent him coming after me.
He's a fucking stripper? You didn't think that I might wanna know that? You didn't think that information might be valuable? What the hell do you mean it wasn't your place? Um...do you remember how hard it is for me trust people? Oh good. Because you just joined that list of names I'm not sure I can, right alongside him. Excuse me. There's a problem with security.
Arik
Jobless. Girlfriendless. And hung over. Fantastic...
“Is this weird for you?” Ali says in an innocent tone. “You know, keeping your clothes on in a room full of people?”
Greg laughs and has a bite of his bagel.
“I'm not in the mood,” I grumble flopping backwards in my chair.
“Is something the women who come to see him never say,” Greg adds, which makes Ali high five him.
I fucking hate my siblings.
“Came to see him,” my father corrects from his seat across from me. “You're done with that.”
Since it doesn't warrant a response, I simply shut my eyes.
Oh, I'm well aware that I'm done with it. Not showing up when French demanded it was a fuck you in her face and I don't know if you've caught this about her, but she's not exactly the kind of person to take that insult well. Even if I wanted to go back, it's not a possibility. In fact I give it one more day before I have to face her head on. Thankfully, I have a savings account and have made more than enough to float by for a while. However I'm still jobless. Girlfriendless. And hung over. Fuck I'm hung over. Staying in a permanent inebriated state and leaving musical voice-mails on Ari's phone seems like a terrible idea now that I'm sober. Where the fuck are my testicles? Have you seen them?
My mother's voice opens my eyes. “Have you talked to her?”
I keep my attention on my damn near empty plate in front of me. “She's not taking my calls.”
“Maybe she's not in the mood for late night entertainment,” Ali snickers.
Mom ignores my sister's remark and softly suggests, “You could go over and try.”
On a sigh I argue, “Ari would call the cops out of spite.”
Greg laughs, “I knew I liked her.”
Remind me that punching my brother isn't the solution even if it would temporarily make me feel better. I need to go back to that way of life. Living in the goddamn moment. Not this. This shit...this feels awful when the future you saw is ripped from you, especially because a loud mouth bitch broke one of the goddamn rules of The Castle. French may kill me but before she does, I'm taking Helen down with me.
“I warned you,” Greg starts again. “I fucking warned you. I told you weeks ago to tell her-”
“You knew?” Our father snaps. “You fucking knew and didn't think to tell us?”
Let's take my brother
down too.
I reach for my toast and whisper, “He sure did...”
Our parents snap in unison, “Gregory!”
“You didn't think to text me?” Alison whines. “What the hell? I thought we were closer than that.”
“I- I- I- Figured he'd fuck up soon enough and it would just come up,” Greg says quickly making them back down. With a smile he gives me a dirty look. “Apparently I was right.”
In a low tone I state, “Greg, I have very little impulse control right now. Do not push me.”
“You think you can take me down?”
“I know I can.”
“Just because you twirl around women doesn't mean you can handle me.”
With the flick of wrist, I toss my toast back on my plate and bite, “You're the biggest fucking pussy I know. There should be no difference.”
Alison's laughter explodes. “True.”
“Enough!” My mother demands loudly. “Greg and Ali excuse yourselves while we talk to Arik.”
“But I wanna see you punish him,” Ali whines.
Would never hit a chick but I damn sure would set her bright purple designer purse on fire.
“Go,” dad reiterates.
The two of them toss their napkins on the table and storm back into the house, jokes about my not so secret ex profession continuing.
As soon as the glass door is closed I look back up to a set of disapproving eyes from my father.
There's a look I haven't seen since I crashed my brand new car the day after I got it. Didn't really make them feel great about letting me have a driver’s license, but I managed to sweet talk my way out of that one. I have less hope for this situation.
“How long?”
I shrug. “A while.”
“Longer than a year?”
I look back down at my plate.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I shrug again.
“Damn it, Arik! Don't fucking shrug. Answer me.” When I glance up, he snaps harder. “You were man enough to get on a stage and strip in front of a room full of women, be man enough to own it.”
“I'm not ashamed of what I did,” I assure him. “By any means. I had a job. It paid well. It was fun-”
Bafflement fills my father's eyes. “Fun? Taking your clothes off for complete strangers is fun?”
“You wanna talk about the streaking stories I remember from your college friends?” Mom defends me.
Glad the heat is off of me, I raise a finger. “I do.”
“That was different,” my father rushes to say. “That was...drunken stupidity. This was sober stupidity.”
“It wasn't stupid,” I sigh. “It was easy. It was something I did without having to give a fuck about if I wanna climb a corporate ladder to move up from my position. I could do it and keep playing music, which is all that I really wanted.” To my surprise my father backs down. “Look, I was supporting myself. I was on two feet. Hell, financially I still am. I didn't sit through hours of lectures on the importance of investments from you to have nothing stacked up.”
Dad cocks a grin. “At least there's that.”
“I was never ashamed of being a stripper.”
“Then why keep it from us?” Mom asks, toying with her hair. “We would be understanding.” After a sarcastic look she sighs, “Fine. I would understand. Your father would come around.”
He clears his throat and gives me a harsh look.
“Fine. Your father would try to convince you to do something different every time you were around. My point is you didn't have to keep this hidden unless part of you, maybe a tiny part of you, is slightly embarrassed you get paid to be naked.”
“Perform almost naked. And the only thing that I'm upset over is the fact it cost me the first chick I ever really gave a fuck about.”
My mom's hand reaches out and squeezes mine. “Give it a little time honey. I highly doubt she'll stay mad.”
She doesn't know Ari like I do. She's probably threw the shit I left over there in the dumpster. Yeah...I had shit over there and she has shit over at my place. I don't know...it just kinda happened. Like falling in love. Like...us.
“What are you going to do now?” my father changes the subject once more. “Do you need help finding work?”
“No.”
“Arik-”
“No,” I answer quickly. “And that's not some weird pride thing talking, dad. I play piano at The Den a couple times a month for a crowd of regulars. I could easily pick up more shifts there if I need to.”
He nods but doesn't question me further.
That's a first.
“Arik,” my mother's voice lifts my eyes back to hers. “While we're understanding about what you were doing-”
“You.” Dad corrects. “You were understanding.”
“We are glad you're done with it. And whether or not you admit it out loud to us right now, I know you are too.”
Maybe a little. I can eat cheeseburgers more often.
“And we know the reason you're not distraught over it is because you have Ari. Because she makes you...wanna do more. Be more. Be something better than what you were.”
My defeated voice whispers, “She does.”
“Then don't give up,” my father's addition turns my face his direction. “Take it from someone who almost let the best thing of his life walk out over a miscommunication.”
“Huge miscommunication,” she echoes him.
“If you want Ari in your life, which is clear as fucking day you do, you can't throw in the towel until you've done everything you can to plead your case, son.”
There's another squeeze of my hand and I see a smirk on my mother's face.
Hard to believe my parents almost didn't end up together. Maybe fucking up in relationships is genetic? No? Hoping too high again? Yeah I figured. I fucked up. I own that. And if she gives me a chance to explain and another chance to make things right, I swear I'll never let the truth be something I'm lenient with again.
Ari
Why are you looking at me like that? It's my bottle of wine this time. Hold the drinking jokes about it not even being past five o'clock yet. Those are for people who aren't trying to make the last few months of their life disappear because they were unknowingly boning a stripper around the clock. Oh! Except for weeekends. Fuck, I'm an idiot.
There's a knock on my door that lifts my head up from the couch slightly.
He hasn't come by, which is good. Saves me from having to call the cops.
“Delivery,” a soft voice calls from the other side.
Convinced it's the take out I ordered, I put the wine bottle back on the table, and shuffle over towards the door, grabbing my wallet along the way. As soon as I open it, I fight the urge to smile.
My father lifts the bag up. “Delivery?”
I tease, “Where's the usual delivery guy with the mohawk?”
“Tipped him enough to let me take his place.” When my face threatens to smile again he nods his head towards my apartment. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Opening the door wide for him to enter I add, “You basically own a fraction of the place after paying for my rent.”
He lightly laughs. “That was a long time ago, Ari.”
“Yeah not as long as you would think,” I mutter and flop down on the couch beside him. “Not that I'm ungrateful-”
“Ari, you're my daughter. You fell on hard times. I'm your father. I'm supposed to help you. You weren't some deadbeat socialite who refused to work. You fell to your knees like so many do in the choice of their profession in the beginning. I knew you'd lift yourself back up and you did.”
Fall to my knees. Well at least it wasn't to wiggle my head around in someone's crotch because I'm a stripper. Yeah. I'm still livid and there's a high chance I'll always be this level of disgusted. Not just with him either.