Revival

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “Sure,” I shoved my hands in my pockets and stayed on the defence. “Tell you what, send me a bill and I’ll reimburse you for all the time you wasted on me.”

  As soon as the words left me, I wanted to take them back. I wanted the Grim fucking Reaper to turn up and just take me now. Of all the things I’d done during my pointless time on earth, I’d never regretted anything more than what I’d just said. I saw the pain hit Geoff and I knew, I fucking knew, I’d just damaged our relationship beyond repair.

  “Get out of my sight,” was all he said as a single tear fell from one eye and ran down his worn, betrayal-stricken cheek.

  “Geoff.” I took a step towards him but he backed away.

  “I said go.” He folded his arms across his chest and turned away from me. “Just go, Curtis.”

  I waited for what felt like hours for Geoff to take the words back, for me to be able to take mine back, for some god damned higher power to rewind the clock and erase the last five minutes. It didn’t happen.

  Geoff had told me to go away hundreds of times when I was a cocky shit teenager, but he always came after me. We’d always fix it. As I turned around and headed towards the tunnel, I knew he wouldn’t come and find me this time.

  I took my place by the ring to watch Jesse’s match and scanned my surroundings for Geoff. He was gone.

  Jesse climbed in the ring and the fight began, but I kept looking around in hope. I should have just done what he’d asked, but I was too wrapped up in myself. It had been a month since Geoff had asked me to watch Brett fight and I just left after meeting Jesse. I hadn’t even thought about Geoff. I was too busy fucking a woman I hated, putting my feelings of failure and regret into training The Gentleman, and chasing a ghost who was never going to give me the answers I needed.

  Jesse won the match, a knockout after just ninety seconds in and I was able to escape the place that was beginning to suffocate me.

  Maybe I should have just stayed away.

  I sucked in a lungful of air when Jesse and I left out of the delivery door. My head fuzzed and I stood still, drawing in one deep breath like it was the last supply of oxygen.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded, “I need a drink. You in?”

  “I’ve got a study session tomorrow,” he said looking down at his watch.

  “This uni stuff is important, huh?”

  His turn to nod, but he said nothing more about it, “Drink…Let’s do it.”

  “You’re on. And you can be back in time for all your nerd stuff.”

  “Deal, but I’ve got an idea. Come on.”

  We headed out to the main car park, but Jesse ignored out cars and waved down a black taxi.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Ever heard of Angels?”

  “Sure,” I shrugged. “Things with wings.”

  Skye Jones.

  “No, no, no,” he laughed. “Angels, my friend, Angels. You haven’t lived until you’ve been to Angels.”

  I didn’t need to ask any further questions. I knew exactly what he meant by the way his voice beamed with boyish glee.

  No sooner had Jesse filled the taxi with an excitement he tried, and failed, to hide, the taxi pulled up outside a black-fronted building in Soho. I quickly paid the driver before Jesse could protest and we climbed out.

  I grew nervous as we approached the entrance; I’d never been to a strip club before and this one didn’t look like a run of the mill, boob in the face, sleaze-fest. Slender golden angels were painted on the front, one either side of the door which was manned by two guys in black suits. And that was it. The club was discreet, tucked away on a Soho backstreet and it looked tasteful. Not that I had any point of reference to compare it to – sneaking into the living room to watch that scene from Showgirls when I was a teenager didn’t count for shit. I didn’t admit to Jesse that strip clubs weren’t my thing. The whole look-but-don’t-touch thing didn’t appeal to me. One of the men at the door recognised Jesse and nodded with a smile as he sidestepped and the other guy pulled the door open.

  I followed Jesse up a dimly lit staircase, the pound of the bass vibrating through the walls. We stepped out onto an open area, draped in red and gold. Small round tables surrounded a long stage that ran through the middle of the room. We weren’t staying to watch whatever show would be performed on the stage.

  “Come on.” Jesse tipped his head towards the back and we walked straight through.

  We entered a room, just big enough for three or four people. He left the door open and we took a seat in one of the red armchairs. Hypnotic music played quietly in the background as we sat and waited.

  “What are we waiting for?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  We turned our heads when a quiet knock rapped on the door. A tall blonde stood in the doorway with one hand on her hip. She was dressed in a floor length, cappuccino-coloured silk dress. Her makeup was minimal and her face actually moved when she smiled and spoke in a low, sultry but welcoming voice.

  “Good evening, Mr Kennedy. What can I get for you?”

  “A bottle of the usual and-” he turned to me, “-pick a colour.”

  I knew he wasn’t asking what colour umbrella I wanted in my glass of whatever drink he’d just ordered.

  “Brunette,” I answered without thought or hesitation.

  He nodded, seemingly impressed with my choice.

  “Send Amber in, and tell her to bring Cassie with her.”

  The blonde licked her bottom lip and took it between her teeth before she responded.

  “Cassie is with another guest. Perhaps you’d like to choose another?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. I’ll pay double if you send them both in in the next sixty seconds.”

  Jesse reached out and handed Blondie a twenty pound note.

  “I’ll get right on it, Mr Kennedy.”

  He sat back, crossed one leg over the other and tapped his watch. I sniggered when Blondie turned on her hell and scarpered as quickly as her skyscrapers would allow.

  “You’re a regular here,” I tried to relax and mimic Jesse’s comfort.

  “A regular?” he entertained the idea. “Not really. I don’t travel sixty miles for strippers often.”

  He looked back down at his watch; as soon as he did, two women appeared at the door, a blonde and a brunette.

  “Why didn’t you just choose the other blonde?” I asked as the girls shared an excited glance and stepped into the room.

  “Amber is my special girl, aren’t you?”

  I’m sure I saw her stomach flip before she answered with a confident, “I am, Mr Kennedy.”

  I looked at the other girl and she licked her lips, her eyes flashing with rule-breaking lust. She was pretty; I was surprised by the quality of the three women I’d seen so far. I expected them to be botoxed to within an inch of their lives, with fake everything and dressed like they’d just stepped out of a cheap sex shop. But they were classy, naturally attractive and confident; the blonde was dressed in a figure hugging merlot cocktail dress and the brunette in a soft green floor length dress. She dipped her head and looked up at me through thick eyelashes, unable to hide her surprise, and relief, that I wasn’t a beer-bellied old guy waiting to breathe whiskey breath all over her. There was a level of attraction between us; I guessed that was normal.

  She looked like my girl. My obsession. She bore a striking resemblance to Skye and it both stirred me and made me want to run for the hills.

  Jesse threw his arm over the back of my chair and turned to me.

  “What shall we have them do first, Cut Throat?”

  I tried to ignore the thrill that shot through me, heating my blood and settling somewhere in my groin. I didn’t know we could give them instructions; I assumed they had a routine.

  I was glad they didn’t.

  Blondie entered with an ice bucket of champagne and two flutes, purposefully leaning down as she placed it on
the table between us. I grabbed her wrist – fuck the no-touching rule, she didn’t seem to mind. Her green eyes met mine, I drew delicate circles on her wrist to keep her attention and I saw Cassie shift uncomfortably in front of me. This could be fun.

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” I let her go and she stood up straight, reluctantly. “Would the ladies like a drink?”

  They nodded and Jesse took over.

  “Another bottle, Marilyn,” she nodded and left, closing the door softly behind her. “Now, where were we?”

  I sat forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and looked at the two women.

  “Turn around. Slowly,” I ordered, allowing my eyes to scan their bodies, from their exposed shoulders, down their slender backs to the round globes of their asses; to their legs, elongated by their strappy heels, and then back up in time for them to face us again. “Am I right to assume we can’t touch?”

  “That’s the rule,” Amber answered, although I knew - and so did Jesse, judging by the wicked look of delight on his face – that both were more than prepared to break the rule.

  “But that doesn’t stand for you.” Jesse and I sat back in sync, adopting the authoritative position that had the girls squirming when their eyes dropped. “Mr Kennedy and I need to have a conversation, so how about you girls have some fun?”

  As if on cue, the music changed to an upbeat dance piece with a soulful voice singing something about having one last play, and the volume increased. I looked at Jesse to see him controlling the music. Good choice.

  We watched Amber and Cassie get comfortable, adjusting to the music as they moved their hips and ran their hands over their bodies. Blondie slipped in to place another bucket and two more flutes on the table and rolled her eyes with a smile when she saw what we were doing, before sneaking back out and leaving us to watch the show. Jesse poured the first round of drinks and pushed two of the flutes across the table.

  “What’s your story, Jesse?” I’d wanted to ask him for weeks, and I came right out and asked it before throwing back a mouthful of champagne.

  My eyes widened as the girls danced together, caressed each other and kept their eyes on us as they teased us with glimpses of the stockings beneath their dresses.

  “What story?”

  “Who are you, Jesse Kennedy?”

  He sat back further, with a sigh, and refused to look my way.

  “Well, for a start, my name is James.”

  “James?”

  “Stick to Jesse,” he shot a grin my way. “My father works in finance. Mother never had to work because father makes enough money annually to abolish third world poverty. If he wanted to, of course.”

  I heard the resentment in his voice; I probably shouldn’t have pressed further, but I did.

  “You don’t get on?”

  “He’s a successful businessman. Internationally known. We always had a big house and expensive holidays.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Closer.” He ordered Cassie and Amber. They closed the distance between them, each one slipping a leg between the others. Their pelvises touched, their hands roamed, their bodies gyrated as their dresses rode up and Jesse and I shared a look of contentment as we leaned further back to get a good view. “He hates me.”

  His admittance brought a darkness over him and he clenched his fists in his lap.

  “Sorry.”

  I was sorry for asking, I knew what it felt like to keep things back. Talking about them was admitting them, and admitting them meant you believed them. I refused to believe.

  “He’s the reason I fight. My big brother, AJ, he works alongside our father. He was always the golden boy.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve spent my life trying to play catch-up. Father got me into boxing when I was five…I was too skinny, too quiet, too gentle.”

  “You don’t fight for your dad.”

  Our conversation halted as two dresses, one merlot, one green, were raised high and tossed to the floor; both girls were dressed in stockings, small strips covering their modesty – just. As Amber slid her body down Cassie’s, taking one stocking with her, she looked at Jesse. Cassie looked at me. I swallowed hard and drank down some champagne. I had to exercise restraint.

  “Who says I don’t?” Jesse finally responded, his eyes locked with Amber’s.

  It took me a few seconds to remember what we were talking about.

  “I do. You wouldn’t be as good as you are if you were fighting for someone else.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. I knew it was overcompensation. He felt uncomfortable.

  “Touché, Cut Throat. But it’s a story for another time.”

  He beckoned Amber to come to him, but she shook her head. I rolled my eyes. It was only a matter of time before she gave in. Why delay the inevitable?

  “And the doctor thing?”

  “Can’t you just enjoy the show?” Jesse griped. He twirled his finger and the girls turned for him.

  Point made.

  “I guess.”

  Amber began moving closer to Jesse; she didn’t even bother resisting. But it left Cassie dancing on her own, looking to me and waiting for the same instruction. I wanted to keep her at a safe distance. I should have chosen blonde. From the other side of the room, Cassie reminded me of Skye – I had to keep her away, because if I didn’t? I knew my control would snap, my mind would tell me she was Skye and I’d do what I’d wanted to do to her for years. It wouldn’t be well-received.

  I held my hands up to tell her to stay where she was. I didn’t really give a fuck about the look of disappointment on her face. It reminded me of the expression I saw on Skye’s face the night I sent her away. I scrubbed my hand over my face.

  “Jesse?” I leaned closer, catching a glimpse of Amber as she stood a metre from him and propped her foot up on the table. “Have they got anything stronger?”

  His head snapped in my direction, “Are you joking?” He looked at Cassie and back at me and, with a sigh, nodded. He knew it wasn’t Cassie who was the problem. “What do you want?”

  I shrugged.

  “You’re not a drinker, are you?”

  “I drink to get drunk, Jess.”

  He reached over to the same remote that controlled the music and a mere fifteen seconds later, Blondie appeared.

  “Courvoisier XO.”

  It was all he said, not taking his eyes off the performing blonde before him. Blondie got riled up; she pursed her lips, took a long, resentful glance at Amber and tried to smile her compliance to Jesse. She just looked in pain.

  “Two glasses, Mr Kennedy?”

  He eyed her briefly, showing no interest and licked his lips as he returned his attention to the naked beauty.

  “Just bring us a bottle.”

  She groaned; I watched her mumble an expletive, and she left.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman?”

  I was humoured by his attitude. He was a fellow mind fuck.

  “What’s the definition of a gentleman?” He tipped his head in the direction of the women, again proving his point. They wouldn’t argue.

  I snorted as I thought about it. I didn’t know.

  “Exactly. I give women what they want.”

  “And Blondie wants a rude, well-spoken prick bossing her about?”

  “Marilyn is a smart girl. A law student.” Accepting I wasn’t going to invite Cassie any closer, he took the opportunity for himself. “She likes the game. So, yes, she likes me to behave like a prick until I leave, hand her a tip, and as I do, I’ll whisper in her ear how much her service pleased me. Turned me on. How I’m going to go home with a rock hard dick and get myself off thinking of her. Do you know what that will accomplish?”

  “No,” I answered, distracted. Cassie pinched her nipples and threw her head back, her dark locks cascading down her back, her hips continuing to sway. Christ.

  “She’ll go home and frig herself silly thinking that my rudeness was a guise; that I wanted to fuck her but the da
mn rule got in the way. It will make her ten times more likely to break that rule when I finally give in and have a private session with her.”

  “And that, my friend, is why you go to Oxford.”

  He looked at the door as Blondie brought the cognac in, looking away when she turned to him, hoping for recognition. She deflated when she didn’t get what she wanted, and slipped out.

  “Trust me.” He leaned closer as he poured two measures. “Keep showing your disinterest and you’ll have Cassie on her back with her legs open before you leave tonight.”

  I entertained the idea, really entertained it but, in truth, it made my stomach roil. I could close my eyes and pretend she was Skye, but even the pretence didn’t appeal to me.

  “Now, onto the XO. Cassie, come here.” She stopped dancing and teetered towards us, her heels tapping lightly on the carpet beneath her feet. Jesse handed her a glass. “Give Cut Throat a large mouthful and tell him not to swallow.” She held the glass towards my mouth but he stopped her. “From you.”

  “But-”

  “Maybe Amber would like to do it.”

  That got her. Her nostrils flared and she shot a blazing look in Amber’s direction. I took the time to pinch the bridge of my nose and drag my hand down my face, to hide my amusement. Cassie emptied the glass, keeping those provocative eyes on me.

  “Swish it, really feel the flavour. Make sure he can taste you as strongly as the drink.” She did as she was told, her moist lips glistening as she swirled the liquid around her mouth. “Good, now give it to him.”

  She leaned in, bending at the waist and resting her hands on the arms of my chair. As she edged closer and I met her halfway, her scent surrounded me and mixed with the scent of the elixir in her mouth. She closed her eyes. I closed mine. Our lips met and she parted hers, allowing the drink to flow in and take over my taste buds. She pulled back and whispered, her mouth hoarse from the potency of the cognac. “Don’t swallow.”

  She stepped away, resuming her dance, the rolling of her hips, and the caress of her curves. A few seconds later, Amber joined her with a mouthful and Jesse called her closer. I watched, my mouth full of warm, Cassie-flavoured cognac, as he passed a mouthful to her. He spoke to the three of us as he poured himself another measure.