by A. J. Downey
“You like to read?” I asked, massaging the soap into my long hair, the question more to buy myself some time to process what he’d just said. I mean, it was awfully profound. I hadn’t expected it to come from someone packaged like him. Of course, speaking of books, that whole adage of never judging one by its cover came to mind again.
“Yeah, I think it’s where I got such big ideas that I could change things back home. I got myself to thinking that I was smarter than everybody around me.”
“So what happened?” I asked, rinsing my head with the shower spray, listening intently for his answer.
“I learned that no matter how smart you think you are, there’s always a bloke out there smarter than you.”
“That’s all?”
“That and it’s never a good idea to try and get one over on a gang boss as powerful as the one I tried to fool. There’s a reason he’s boss. I’d like to think I’m over being that young and dumb.”
I wanted to ask him, what did you do exactly, but it was none of my business. Just like there were certain things about me that were none of his.
So he’d gone from outsmarting crime bosses to escorting and protecting a whore. I honestly would consider that a downgrade in lifestyle, but thinking on it, whatever he’d done that was viewed as a betrayal, it was probably a downgrade he was more than happy to live with, considering he got to live.
Live and learn. It was honestly all any of us could do.
“So,” he called out, interrupting my introspective silence, “What’s your story?”
“I’m just a girl trying to crawl out from under the mountain of debt her poor choices left her buried under,” I said. Which was true.
“Alright, I’ll give you that,” he called. “But you know something I like, so what about you? Name something you like.”
He liked to read, I liked to read, too but I had a feeling if I said that it would come across as evasive, or like I was trying to purposefully be difficult.
“I… I guess it’s been a long time since I thought about what I like, or what makes me happy,” I said finally.
“That’s a bit depressing, isn’t it?” he asked carefully, and I couldn’t disagree, but wondered at the change in his tone.
“I like to dance,” I said finally. “Delia is the one that convinced me to take pole dancing as a means to stay fit and have fun after…” I trailed off and finished with a bitter, “Well, after Silas.”
“You like your job, then? That’s good.”
“I like parts of my job, not all of it.”
“Yeah, I could see that. What parts do you like best?”
“I like the creativity part. I like coming up with new dances and new moves. I like the music and finding the perfect song. That’s the fun part.”
“I can see it,” he said and I smiled.
“I liked today,” I said honestly. “Downstairs, the learning new things… I think it was a good idea. I wish I had done it sooner but I never really felt right going to the self-defense classes around here.”
“Why not?” he sounded curious.
“I had one of the instructors tell me that because I was a stripper, I was asking for trouble.”
He scoffed and declared, “What a tool!”
“Yeah, Lia and I didn’t go back after the first class. We went back to her apartment and ate ice cream. Besides, he was less about actually teaching the girls anything and more about feeling them up and fishing for a hookup.”
He laughed and I smiled to myself. It was a good sound. I was just finishing up and shut off the water saying, “Don’t laugh. I mean, it’s my job, I would know.”
“Too right, I reckon.”
I worked on drying myself off and practically jumped into my street clothes. His apartment wasn’t exactly warm, and the heat from the shower was quickly dissipating from the bathroom.
I pulled my hair dryer from my bag and thought better of making him wait to shower until I’d dried it in here. Instead, I stepped out and he stood up. It made me smile how quickly he got to his feet. It reminded me of a bygone era when men leaped up from their seats anytime a lady entered the room. Except I was no lady. I don’t think I could ever be considered ‘classy’ not even by today’s standards. Still, there was something about how Nik moved around me that almost made me believe I could be. It was nice.
“I don’t want to hold you up, is there someplace I can plug this in out here and dry my hair?” I held up the hair dryer and he smiled.
“Most of the power points out here don’t work,” he said, “But the one by the bed does, under the chair.”
“Thanks,” I said and he gave me a nod.
“I’ll be out nek minute, no worries.”
I started across the open space towards where he said and turned last moment, blurting out, “And thanks for what you said, you know, about my face. Um, I’m not sure why you called it that, though.”
“What, yer warrior’s mark? Because you are one. You didn’t just survive, Girl. You thrived, you made yer own way. That takes courage that a lot of people lack. That’s a survivor’s mark you can be proud of, eh.”
I blinked but he was gone, inside the bathroom, just the thinnest sliver of golden light coming through the crack in the door. I swallowed hard and went over to the chair that seemed to be serving as some sort of an end table more than a chair. It had a bunch of things on it that I didn’t want to disturb, so I sat on the edge of the bed and plugged in my drier.
I sat up, and brush in hand switched the loud machine on. The warm air was welcome against my scalp and I worked the heat through my long hair, which was a real bitch to dry. Still, I was so not getting on the back of a motorcycle, in winter, with wet hair, helmet or not. Just the thought gave me a cold shiver. I would never get warm again.
I let my eyes wander, as drying one’s hair was typically one of the most boring pastimes on earth. Especially without my setup at home. I’d usually just sit at my little dining room table with a textbook propped on a cookbook stand and read out of my assigned chapters while drying. Don’t judge. I liked to be efficient and look good.
Now I just let my gaze roam around Zeb’s large, rundown, and mostly empty apartment. I twisted in my seat and nearly singed the top of my ear with the drier, I was so frozen by what captured my gaze.
Taped to the wall beside his bed was a crumpled twenty, a smear of familiar red lipstick across Jackson’s face.
Had he gone back to the diner for it? I’d wondered what he was doing, and here it was staring me in the face. Surprising me the most was the fact that my first reaction upon seeing it was that it was a sweet gesture before my general paranoia about everything kicked in.
I went back and forth for several moments wondering about his intent when it came to the bill. Trying to decide whether it was a sordid trophy or whether it was as a sweet gesture that was my initial reaction to seeing it there.
I shut off the hair drier and finger-combed my hair to feel for any excessively damp spots. It took me a full minute to realize I wasn’t hearing the shower run. I twisted back around and he was standing there, watching me, barefoot and bare-chested in just a pair of jeans, his longish dark hair pulled into a short ponytail.
“What is this?” I asked softly, pointing to the bill.
“Ah, shit, uh, for me? A good memory.”
I frowned, “Explain please?”
“Well, you see I went to this titty bar and there was this dancer there, and she’s a pretty thing. Fierce, you know? Out of all the blokes sitting around her stage, she picked me to dance for and I gave her a tip worthy of her show and she made taking it such a part of her performance. It was special. I liked it, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how she took the money.”
He wouldn’t really look me in the eyes and I realized just how shy he was. I studied him carefully and he radiated a certain amount of embarrassment over having been caught with the reminder taped to his wall. I stood up slowly, leaving my hair drier on the small p
ile of other things on his chair and my brush behind on the floor.
I was firmly on the side of not creepy but sweet when I went to him. I carefully hugged him and his hands lightly went to my hips. He smelled good, earthy and like a clean man, which why did ‘clean man’ smell so damn good?
“I think it’s sweet,” I whispered and he leaned back so he could look me in the eyes, a small smile playing on his full lips. My gaze wandered the intricate whorls and designs of his tattoo from forehead to chin, but only on the one half of his face. I didn’t understand that but I didn’t want to ask and possibly offend him.
“But?” he asked softly, his voice strained, swallowing so hard it very nearly clicked.
“But I’m not a good person to get involved with, like, at all,” I told him.
I’d looked away, fixing my eyes on a crack in the wall, down by the baseboards. His thick fingers found my chin in a light, gentle touch that brought my eyes back to his.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, eh?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt you,” I said truthfully.
His mouth was coming closer to mine and he whispered just above my lips, “I’m a big boy, I can take it.”
“You sure?” I murmured and almost hated how faint my voice was, how much I wanted his lips to touch mine. It’d been so long since anyone who had wanted to kiss me saw me for more than just tits and ass. I knew it down to my very soul that Nik did. That this wasn’t the same as the men from the club. There was something far more to this than that, and I was especially surprised to feel that I wanted it, and then his lips touched mine, warm and sensual, and I lost myself for just a moment.
I kissed him back, Pretty Woman Art of Hooking Handbook be damned. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t a hooker. I wasn’t a sex worker. I was a woman and I felt like a real one at that. It was amazing, breathtaking, and so beautiful. I hadn’t realized how starved I was for it and at the same time, it frightened me so completely to have that strong of a reaction to him, to any man again after what Silas had done.
I pulled away abruptly, my chest heaving, and turned away, pressing my hands to my mouth as much to hold onto the lingering sensation of his kiss as to keep myself from spilling over into heavy sobs. I was so torn between so many emotions. Want, need, and longing warring with the safety, independence and yes, even loneliness. I was lonely, and I hated that about myself, but it was something that I just had to do.
“Hey, hey, none of that,” he whispered soothingly, stepping up to my back and wrapping his arms around me. He rested his lips against my shoulder and he swayed gently; soothingly.
I closed my eyes and breathed deep and slowly relaxed, lowering my hands and murmuring, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, eh… It was nice.”
I scoffed, nearly choking on the bitter, mocking sound. He smiled and gave me a gentle squeeze before letting me go.
“Well, it was for me,” he said softly, and I immediately felt bad.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, tone grave. “It was nice for me, too.”
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
10
Zeb…
She’d been tense on the way home, the regular text message check-ins had been short but taking her into her work today, she’d seemed fine. I kept to myself, let her sort through her head, and had a pretty good night of my own at the bar. No trouble, which was the way I usually liked it, being hired muscle.
Zeke waved me through the velvet rope, on his phone, exchanging a nod with me and I plunged into the heat and pounding music of the neon-lit dark. I threaded my way through mostly empty tables and ran into Cherry, one of the girls that hung around the MC.
“Looking for Francesca?” she asked, snapping her gum and rolling her eyes. Cherry was a nasty piece of work sometimes, and most of us just ignored her. This was no different, at least when it came to me.
“Yeah, where she at?”
“In back,” she said with a smirk.
“Ta,” I thanked her and went that way. I didn’t like what I found.
She was on a counter, her eyes lifeless and empty while a bloke plowed her but good. I stopped in my tracks and her eyes focused on me. Panic flashed in them, then they flooded with such a deep sorrow.
I’d been about to pull the bloke off her and beat his ass to death but I realized that she wasn’t struggling and then it hit me and my stomach nearly dropped out. I put up my hands and shook my head and backed out of the room, the bloke never even realizing I was there.
I went out to the parking lot and pulled the bike around back since she knew I was there, she’d come out when she was ready. I rolled myself a fat one and calmed my nerves some.
I hadn’t reckoned it went beyond dancing for her and I was sort of dumbfounded that she was a whore. It didn’t sit right with me. Something about it bothered me. The disappointment so strong I could taste it, but something else was there, keeping me from being hot-headed about it.
She came out pretty quickly and I couldn’t look at her.
“I’m sorry, I told you –“ I waved her off and straddled my bike, firing it up. I didn’t want to talk to her, not yet. I was afraid I might say something unfortunate. It was best I take her home and go talk to my bros.
She looked taken aback, then angry, then resigned and got on behind me in short order. I took her home, waved off her next attempt to talk to me, and made sure she went up and locked her doors. I rode out to the club next and found a pretty busy common room.
I spied out Dragon and went over, dropping into a seat at his table.
“I know that look,” he declared with a gusty sigh.
“You maybe forgot to mention she was a whore?”
“Didn’t figure her line of employment was all that important to the job at hand. Of course, I also figured it weren’t none of your business.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. Dragon, you stay in the truck. I think I’ve got this one.”
Shelly dropped into the chair across from Dragon and next to mine, her blue eyes calculating. One of her little ones was under a baby blanket, latched on and having a feed.
“You eavesdropping, Girl?” I asked and she rolled her eyes at me. Dragon’s eyebrows went up.
“Always, and for the most part, I stay out of it, but consider me cashing in a year’s worth of my get-out-of-jail-free cards because I won’t stay quiet about this one. Now you listen here, I want to lay out a story.”
Dragon leaned back in his chair grinning and crossed his arms, I leaned back in my own and folded my hands on the table in front of me real proper and let her know with raised eyebrows that I was listening.
“Picture this, you’re a pretty girl. Hook up with a nice guy who ends up being a total douche and pretty much wrecks the only thing you’ve got going for you which is that you are pretty. Still, you manage to work it. Get the best job that a high school dropout with barely her GED can. You need cash and you need a decent amount of it, what else are you going to do, am I right?”
“I reckon.”
“So you find out there’s even more money to be made and maybe you’re pressured into it, maybe you’re not, but that doesn’t really matter. Sure, it’s illegal, technically, but seriously. What the fuck else did you expect her to do? In this piece-of-shit patriarchal society, what else is there for her to do?” Shelly leaned back in her chair and took a second, trying not to raise her voice.
“She’s pretty much wrecked by our society’s standards as it is and the only thing she’s got to sell is herself. Now, I, of all people, get it. If it weren’t for the club, I might have ended up like her, and to be honest, I respect the bitch. I can’t fucking blame her for having a better business model than me. I was just a slut giving it up for free, she’s way smarter. She’s getting straight up paid.”
“How the hell you know all this?” Dragon asked baffled and Shelly smiled sweetly at him.
“I know everything that goes on around here
, that and Cherry works over there. She’s got a big fucking mouth. Probably equal to the size of her cunt by now.” She made a face like she’d smelled something bad and Dragon let out a laugh that started as one of his characteristically booming ones, but he strangled it at the last minute so as not to wake the baby Shelly had in her arms.
“Still would have been nice to know,” I said getting back to the subject and shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Shelly’s practical view of things was making me feel like a total asshole.
“How could you not? You seriously thought she and I were just platonic buddies? I’d go for a dance and that was it?” Dragon asked.
Then I did feel like a total asshole, especially when I blurted out, “You?”
“Yeah, me! The fuck you think when you met her in just one of my shirts sleeping in my bed?”
“I didn’t think…”
“Ah, but you knew. You always knew,” Shelly said knowingly.
“How d’ you reckon?”
“Because you’re disappointed, but yer not pissed. You ain’t come storming in here downing a bottle. Something tipped you off and your back-brain probably caught on but the front, not so much.”
I thought back to the vacant look as she danced, a mirror for the vacant look in her eyes as whoever-he-was fucked her in the back of that shit-hole club she worked. I shook my head and sighed. I knew coming here was right, but I also knew I needed to head back to her place and apologize.
I scrubbed my face with my hands, and Dragon said to Shelly, “You said your piece, now kick rocks a minute.”
“Sure,” she said softly, her expression thoughtful as she looked at me; not unsympathetic. She got up carefully and shuffled away from us bouncing her kid and I stared after her.
“Living proof that there’s a life after that kind of life. She’s right, you know. If it weren’t for Reave or this club, she could have easily ended up like Tiff.”
“She shouldn’t have to do that,” I said.
“Do you really think she wants to?” he shot back.
I made a frustrated noise and leaned back, staring at the ceiling painted black. Dragon shook his head.