by A. J. Downey
I lied to her, and it killed me to do it, but I couldn’t tell her the truth. She didn’t need the truth right now, she needed to believe. “I think everything’s fine and she’s off getting her rocks off with that bloke.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said and she sounded like she didn’t believe me. She leaned up and kissed me softly and said, “You’re a terrible liar, but thank you. You’re right for doing it.”
I smiled and said, “Guilty, but then again, I hate to see you hurt.”
“I love that about you, too.”
I felt a sudden warmth radiate out from my center at her words.
“The more I get to know you, the more time I spend with you… I really think I’m starting to love everything about you,” I said evenly.
“Except my job,” she murmured and I smiled.
“Hard to love that,” I said.
She nodded and looked a little sad, “There are some days I loved my job, but they haven’t come in a while.”
“So why don’t you quit?” I asked, and held her close. She looked up at me and her expression was sad and a little bit torn.
“The money, for one. Honestly, I don’t know what else I would do.”
“Well,” I said and kissed her softly, “Nothing has to change right now, or even soon.”
“Seriously?” she asked and bit her bottom lip, giving me a skeptical look.
“Truly,” I told her.
She hugged me close, resting her head on my shoulder and I held her back, smoothing a hand over the towel over her lower back and her bum.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For not lying, but for not forcing me to choose or make a change right now.”
“I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to. That’s not how I want any of this to work.”
“But you want it to work?” she asked and that fragile hope was back in her voice.
I didn’t lie one bit when I said, “More than anything, Wahine. More than anything I’ve ever wanted before.”
21
Tiffany…
“What’s that now?”
Shit, we had a bad connection and the fact that I was in my g-string, barely-there bra and nothing else had kept me inside the club, rather than let me be outside where the signal was both better and there wasn’t pounding music to contend with.
“Delia!” I cried. “I’m worried about her, Nik; she didn’t show up for work.”
“Shit, yeah, alright. Let me make some calls and I’ll call you right back, yeah?”
“Hold on,” I said. I turned and blinked at Alan, the club’s owner who had touched me on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I said immediately, “I thought I had longer before my next dance.”
“You’re fine,” he said. “Cherry is going on for you, right now. Take the back stair up to my office, there’s a…” he paused and groped for the right word, “Situation at the front Zeke has alerted me to.”
“Tiffany, what’s wrong?” I heard Nik say distantly, but my adrenaline was spiking and I was already moving.
“I’ll call you back, I think he’s here.”
“What?” Nik demanded sharply.
“Go now, Tiff, my office,” Alan said gently and I went.
“Alan’s sending me to his office, Zeke’s handling it at the front. I’m okay for now,” I told Nik. Despite Alan trying to keep me calm, my heart was pounding. I almost didn’t register what Nik said.
“I’m on my way, just do what your boss says.”
“I am,” I told him, but I was talking to the empty air, Nik was already gone.
I clattered up the back stairs in my stripper heels and kicked the door to Alan’s office closed and turned the lock. I figured it was his office and he had the key. The space was small, and a bank of windows overlooked the floor below. It was all right, though. They were mirrors on the outside and you could only see inside at very specific angles. If I sat at the desk in front of the windows and ducked down a bit behind the monitors, I would be invisible so that’s precisely what I did. I sat at Alan’s desk, heart pounding, stomach curdling, and kept bouncing my gaze back and forth between the cameras on the monitors and out the window at the floor below.
Zeke was on camera, out front, hands raised and pushing down in his classic ‘calm the fuck down, I’m trying to explain something to you’ pose. Alan stood back, beside the bar, his cell phone pressed to his ear, nodding and speaking occasionally into it.
My heart thudded painfully in my chest as someone outside the camera’s range swung on Zeke, in a flash, out of nowhere, and Zeke went crashing to the ground out like a light. Silas strode forward into the camera’s view and then, through the front door, larger than life and screaming at the top of his lungs. Dancers stopped, patrons stood up, and Alan walked calmly forward.
I couldn’t hear anything. There was nothing to hear, the office up here was so well insulated and soundproofed only the dullest thumping of the music’s bass beat made it through. I swallowed hard as Silas stopped just outside Alan’s reach and Alan waved him forward with a broad sweep of his arm.
“What are you doing?” I asked, and realized he was taking Silas on a tour, either to get him out or to buy time for whoever he had been on the phone with to get here. I knew Nik would make it. I knew he would be here, I just didn’t know when, and with how fast and how hard Silas had knocked Zeke out? I didn’t know if I wanted Nik to square off with him.
I was suddenly very afraid for my lover and biker bodyguard.
I followed Silas and Alan from camera to camera but kept glancing back to Zeke who was sitting up now and rubbing his jaw. My chest loosened with a bit of relief at that and I still couldn’t believe that Silas had gotten the drop on him like that. Zeke was good at his job and I’d seen him handle himself in more than a few fights before.
The phone in my hand buzzed and I answered it without looking, “Hello?”
Indistinct club noise came through the line and voices, hard to make out. I looked at the screen and realized Alan had dialed me.
“What’s up there?” I heard Silas demand.
“My office.”
Shit!
I got up and looked around and finally had to settle for ducking into his bathroom up here. I stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain, holding the phone to my chest as I heard the door being messed with out front.
I held my breath and ended the call, fighting with the phone to silence the ringer just in case.
“I told you, there’s no one up here,” I heard Alan declare. “We have no dancer by that name at this club. Now, as I told you downstairs, the police have been notified about you striking my bouncer. You can clearly see there is no one up here, so please leave.”
I heard the bathroom door swing wide and bounce against the wall and the fear swarmed over my skin, sweat standing out along my spine under the short, light silk robe Alan had gifted me after my first year here. He did things like that on all of the girls’ anniversaries.
“Fine,” Silas grated. “But I don’t believe you. What is it? Her night off or something?”
“I swear to you, there’s no ‘Tiffany’ here.” Alan maintained.
“I find out you’re lying to me, I’m coming back here and burning this place to the fucking ground with you in it.”
Their voices receded and I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears tracking down my face. All he’d needed to do to find me had been to pull back the curtain. He just hadn’t thought to do it. Dumb luck on my part? Who knew? All I did know was that he was going or gone and I found myself choking on a silent scream that I would not let out from behind my teeth.
I slid down the wall onto my butt against the cold tile and shuddered, sweat slick against my palms where I clutched my phone with both of them over my heart, like it would protect me or something. The blood rushed in my ears and when the curtain jerked back I screamed and cringed but it was Zeke that knelt down, a
purple knot swelling on his jawline. He put his hands on mine and said, “Easy, Tiff! Easy it’s just me.”
“Is he gone?” I cried and a hand fell onto Zeke’s shoulder. Zeke jumped and turned but immediately relaxed and got out of the way of our boss who knelt down in front of me.
“He’s gone,” Alan assured me.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, I’m so sorry. I had to get him out of here. You did great.” He patted my cheek, the side without the mask, and he looked sorry.
It was something we had discussed before, but it was a long time ago. Alan knew everything about Silas and had given me a chance but only because Delia had practically begged. He really was a nice guy. In his late thirties, maybe early forties, just beginning to go slightly grey at the temples.
He looked me over with light colored eyes and sighed, saying, “It’s okay now,” and “I think you should take her home.”
I looked up past him to Nik who was standing hands at his sides, fingers flexing with a want to do something with them, the look on his face scarily cold.
“I think that’s a fine idea, Cuz,” he said, and I pushed my way up and past Alan and flung myself into Nik’s arms. They automatically went around me and he held me tight.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any faster,” he breathed into my hair and I sniffed.
“It’s alright, you’re here now.”
“Police are here,” Zeke called from out in the office and Alan excused himself and slipped back out the bathroom door.
“Roll back the footage and save it to a flash drive for them. Tiffany, I believe they are going to want to speak to you.”
“Bloody hell,” Nik muttered and I was with him. I’d talked to the cops countless times about Silas, yet here he’d been, again.
Nik led me out of the bathroom and to the black leather couch in Alan’s office. I couldn’t stop shaking. He sat me down next to him and ran his hands over my shoulders and arms, finally putting a hand over my heart against my chest, leaning in and putting his forehead to mine, his jaw clenching, his eyes closing as he willed me silently to be calm.
His quiet strength calmed me. Allowed me to close my eyes and echo his slow, even breaths with my own which in turn slowed my racing heart. I was vaguely aware of Alan watching us while Zeke clicked around through screens and on the mouse and keyboard of the security systems.
“I have you, Girl,” Nik whispered and I nodded, which was awkward with our foreheads pressed like they were.
“She okay?” Zeke asked.
“She’ll be right,” Nik told him.
“Good, because the cops are here,” Zeke said dispassionately.
“A lot of good they’ll do,” I said and let out a shuddering sigh.
“I know that, and you know that,” Alan said and sighed, “But we all know the right man for this particular job has already shown up.” He cast a meaningful look at Nik and Nik pulled back from me to give him a nod.
“Too right, Brother,” Nik said and the men left it at that. Alan nodding once and dropping his arms from where he had them crossed.
He turned and gave Zeke a meaningful look and said, “I’ll go fetch our guests.”
“I’m sorry, Alan,” I called after him and he raised his hand and waved me off over his shoulder. My heart sank.
“He’s not mad at you, Tiff. He just wants the cops the fuck up out of here. We don’t want them sniffing around for any reason.”
“I know,” I said gently and felt guilty as hell. Alan had always been good to his girls. He’d never expected a cut of our extracurriculars, just the ten percent house’s cut of whatever we walked off stage with. He knew this life was hard for a lot of us, and while Sugars looked shabby and careworn, the rest of us understood this was the isle of lost toys. For some of us, like me, it was the only place left to go.
Alan was a decent guy, his only major rules were that we had to practice safe sex if we decided that the extracurriculars were for us. None of us were required to turn tricks to be here, although most of us did. Alan simply looked the other way, for the most part, on that. He didn’t condone it, for plausible deniability where the legalities or lack thereof were involved.
The other rule was his cardinal rule: none of us could be on drugs. If he found us on something, or we brought anything into his establishment? That was it. There were no second chances for that one. Still, there was always one or two that were dumber than a box of rocks on that one and would test the theory. Those of us loyal to Alan, who understood just how much he did for us, didn’t hesitate to dime a stupid bitch out to him when it came to either of those rules.
He ran a clean place, both figuratively and literally, despite the flesh-peddling that went on here.
“What are you doing?” Nik asked and I sighed, slightly frustrated at the pulling I was doing on the skin of my face.
“Getting the mask off,” Zeke said. “More sympathetic. You only got a couple more seconds, babes, and they’re gonna be at the back stair. Looks like Alan’s taking them the long ways.”
“Okay, okay, okay!” I hissed through gritted teeth and got the lace the rest of the way off, working my jaw and scrunching my eyes, resisting the urge to rub it.
Nik was frowning at me and tipped my chin, whisking a thumb over some of the hurt with a super light, almost-not-even-there touch.
“Usually I have a solution to help me get that off,” I explained and he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the door opening, and Alan escorting a couple of uniformed officers into the office.
“You the bouncer?” one asked Zeke and Zeke scowled.
“How could you tell?” he asked wincing and moved his jaw back and forth with his hand to it. He didn’t have to pretend much to look pained.
“Who are you?” the second cop demanded of Nik and I tried not to roll my eyes or throw up my hands. It was typical that they would ignore the woman in the room. I’d dealt with it more than a few times before with the local police. This was good ol’ boy country and as sexist as it got.
“I’m her boyfriend,” Nik answered them and any irritation I felt completely fled.
I settled in for the slow grind of their ‘procedures’ and the fact that they weren’t really going to want to get involved with the trash essentially taking itself out. That was how they always treated these kinds of situations with people like us. From the cop’s perspective, it wasn’t the first time they’d had trouble with a dancer’s ex-boyfriend showing up, nor was it the first time they’d responded to one of our bouncers getting into a scrap with one of our patrons. It didn’t happen super often, but it happened often enough to be considered ‘normal’ for an establishment like this one.
Of course, all it took was the stereotype to get something like that labeled as ‘normal’ for a place like this, which was sad because even though it was rundown, it was rundown because Alan made sure we got our fair share which left little to actually do any renovations with. Really, it was barely enough to keep up with necessary repairs.
“You have a restraining order against this guy?”
I missed the question, or really that they were finally addressing me and it took Nik shaking me a little for me to come back to the room from inside my head.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Restraining order? You got one?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. They gave me a five-year one, it doesn’t expire until next year.” Which, honestly, he would have still been in prison had the system kept him in but that had been a bridge I was going to cross when I came to it.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of that protective order handy, would you?” the other officer asked, bored.
“Actually, I do. It’s in my purse downstairs.”
Both cops exchanged a look and then really seemed to look at me for the first time. I turned my face into the light a little better and one of them frowned.
“Could you go get it for me?” he asked and I swallowed hard
and nodded.
“I’ll come with you,” Nik said and the first cop, who was being an asshole, frowned and said, “You’ll stay right there.”
“Why?” Nik asked. “I didn’t even get here until after the nob was gone.”
“Because I said so, and I’m not done talking to you yet,” the cop snapped.
“I’ll go with you, ma’am,” the second, nicer, cop said.
“Thank you,” I murmured. Nik didn’t look at all happy to let me go, and it was a sentiment echoed in my own heart. Still, I did as the officer bid and went to get the envelope of paperwork that I carried in my purse, always.
We went downstairs, the officer ghosting along behind me a respectful distance away. I immediately went to my locker, twisting the dial on the combination lock while the officer stood close by.
“He do that to your face?” he asked and I nodded. He didn’t know. I tossed my lace mask into the bottom of my locker and pulled out my gym bag and purse.
“Can I get dressed while we’re down here?” I asked.
“Um, sure, I don’t see why not.”
I hauled out my leggings and jeans as soon as I was done fishing out the restraining order for him. He opened the envelope and pulled out the sheaf of papers, reading through them while I pulled on first my leggings, then my jeans over them, right on over my dance costume. They weren’t the most comfortable underwear on the planet, but I didn’t care about that right now.
I sat down on the bench and pulled first a stretchy camisole over my head, tucking it into the jeans, following it up with a printed, form-fitting thermal. Black with roses and angel wings. Another piece of clothing that was biker-ish when I stopped to think about it.
He was on the third or fourth page, eyes scanning back and forth when I pulled on my boots and zipped them. I shoved my gym bag back into the locker and took my coat down off the hook, shrugging into it, and pulling my hair from the collar just as he finished the last page.
“You’re fast at that,” he said and I sighed.
“Years of practice.”
He chuckled a little darkly and sighed, “You know he’s going to have a warrant issued for his arrest, but manpower-wise, we won’t be actively looking for him.”