by Alyne Robers
I leave the room, irritation itching at the back of my neck. Is it fair that I'm upset with her hiding who she was with last night when I haven't breathed a word about Miles? It won't matter to us who she was with, but whatever is happening with me and Miles could change everything.
My sister and I spend the lazy afternoon without revealing our secrets. So many moments each of us could, but we let the moment pass. I'm almost relieved when I start to get ready for work. Getting lost in my performance on stage is exactly what I need tonight. Escape the weight of silence that is growing between us.
Backstage, I ignore the other girls and concentrate on myself. I make sure I'm ready, focused on my dance, without distractions. I need the power and strength that dancing gives me. It's like my drug. My hands shake with anticipation when I stand on the steps, ready to take the stage. As soon as my high heel hits the glossy floor, I feel relaxed. Much better.
I soak in the lights, the pounding of the bass, and the crowd clapping. The faceless shadows watch me as I spin, twist and contort for their viewing pleasure. Blood rushes to my head when I spin upside down, my ankles locked around the silver pole.
My clothes hit the floor, heavy with studs and leather. Dollar bills join them. Every move is perfect. I feel my power filling me back up, pushing out the worries and insecurities. I feel like myself by the time the song ends. Sexy. In control of my own life. I gather my cash and clothes and disappear backstage. At my locker, I breathe in deeply like it's fresh air, even though it's tainted with perfume and smoke.
"New York! VIP!"
My good mood plummets. I make good money on the tables and stage but rarely get called to the back. When I do, it's the same person. I can't dance for him. I brace myself at the solid door, ready to yank it open and tell him to fuck off.
I don't want to give him the satisfaction of getting me worked up, so I open the door calmly. I step inside the dark room and step on the stage like I'm not expecting him. Like it's any other night, just another customer with a hard dick. The purple lights turn on and the music starts. His face comes out of the shadows when he leans forward.
"Miles," I breathe.
"Brooklyn." His voice is a deep rumble. It sends goosebumps over my skin.
I automatically start to dance for him. A nervousness I haven't yet experienced makes my hands sweaty. I slide my body down the pole and spread my legs. Miles watches me with dark eyes. Never before has he seen me like this. This was a part of me I didn't show to the people I loved because it was all an act.
"What are you doing here?" I ask while I arch my back and spin around the pole.
"I wanted to see you. Here. Dancing."
My top comes off and hits the floor. Miles eyes are still on my face which makes me feel more exposed than if he was looking at my naked body. I step away from the pole and off the small stage. I stop only a foot away from him.
"Why?"
Miles finally looks away from my face. He gazes down my almost naked body. It's a slow perusal. Unhurried and careful. Intimate.
"I've never seen you dance before. I wanted to see who you became up there."
"What did you see?"
I step closer, my bare thighs touching his knees. My body moves on autopilot now. Trained by trying to entice and seduce, it moves on its own. Miles's fingers inch down his lap toward my legs.
"I saw you," he says, looking up at me. "Just bolder. Amplified. Brighter."
His words tumble on repeat in my head. His fingers find my legs and drift over my skin. I gasp as they tickle their path up to my hips. He pulls me to stand between his legs and I realize I've lost the control. Miles is now in the driver's seat. Driving me. Steering me.
"Is that a bad thing? Does it make you jealous?" I ask.
I don't know what answer I expect. If the recent past has told me anything, it will be what I least expect.
"Jealous? No, I'm not jealous of those men out there."
He pulls me suddenly to his lap. I cling to his shoulders as we face each other.
"I'm not jealous because they don't know you. They only see you in costume and makeup, putting on a practiced show. That's not the best part of you."
My heart pounds against my chest. I thought the faulty organ was frozen in stone, but it's wild and strong inside me.
"They don't know the sound of your laugh. They don't know how your eyes light up when you're excited. They've never seen you cry and still thought you looked perfect."
I shake my head, looking into his eyes, begging him to stop. He's reaching deep inside me and it hurts. I'm being torn apart and split open. Miles is digging a hole into me.
"They see your body and the confident way you move it. It's mesmerizing. But I know how strong you are. How protective you are. How even though you look like you don't give a shit, you bleed for the ones you love until it leaves you dry."
His thumb comes up to my face and wipes away a tear I didn't even know had fallen. I haven't cried in so long, and I never thought Miles would be the one to break that streak. I want to be angry with him. I could get up off his lap and scream at him. I could tell him he's wrong and push him away like I do with everyone else.
A huge part of me wants to push, but a larger part melts. I collapse in his arms and they wrap tightly around me. He hugs me to his chest and I breathe him in. It's strange that in this dirty VIP room at the strip club, I feel like the Brooklyn from Tennessee with her best friend Miles. If I close my eyes tight enough, I can almost forget everything that has happened in the last few months.
We stay like that until the bouncer knocks on the door. I pull away, wishing I could stay locked away back here all night.
"He will come get me if I don't come out soon," I tell him.
Miles gives me a sad smile but helps me to my feet. I knock back on the door to let him know I'm coming out safe. I quickly dress and start to leave. Miles tugs me back to him, capturing my chin so I'm forced to look at him when he delivers the last blow to my stone shell.
"I have the real you. You didn't give it to me. I took it and I won't give it back. I have it. No one else."
His words are possessive but protective. Miles isn't staking a claim, he's stating a fact. He's reassuring me that he's got me and I'm safe with him. I wanted to keep everyone out, but he fought his way in over years. Countless nights and days, good and bad.
I simply nod. No words are needed. Miles doesn't need a confirmation for something he is so sure about. I don't have an argument or rebuttal. A satisfied smile spreads across his handsome face.
"Home?"
"Home," I agree.
I drag Miles out of the room and make him wait outside the dressing room while I get back into street clothes. Miles is there when I emerge, makeup washed away. Grabbing his hand, I rush past the filled tables of men waiting for a woman to spend their money on. I don't feel guilt or ashamed, I just want to be myself with Miles right now.
We are silent on the drive home. We park at the apartment and I let us in. I don't need to ask him to be quiet so we don't wake London. He knows. We tiptoe to my room. I'm suddenly frozen when the door shuts. I don't know what do to do now that we are alone. I've known this man almost all my life and suddenly I don't know how to act.
"Don't freeze. Stay with me," Miles whispers as he takes both my hands.
He leads me to the bed and we crawl under the thin covers. I expected to get naked or an explosion of bottled sexual tension. But it's a gentle and easy transition into something different.
I feel cared for and protected when Miles wraps his arms around me and pulls my back to his chest. All the times I saw him do this with London, it ate away at me. I wondered what that felt like, to be completely surrounded by warmth. Somehow, I know he holds me like he never held her.
We drift into sleep like that. Fully clothed and holding on to each other like it was our last night together.
TWENTY-THREE
London
I am a horrible person. The worst. Those are
my first thoughts when I sit up in bed, sweating from the reoccurring nightmare that haunts me. It's only gotten worse the longer I stay here.
I moved here to start over, to become more than the one half of London and Brooklyn. My hopes were to grow as a person.
Right now, I'm not sure I like the person I am becoming. I'm lying to Brooklyn for the first time in our lives. She's lying to me.
I pace the living room, waiting for her to wake up. Kane's jacket sits near the door. It represents my secrets in physical form. Every lie, hidden desire, and muted word is threaded together in the cloth. When I tell Brooklyn whom it belongs to, she’ll know what I've done.
I slept with a man she was involved with. Both she and Kane tell me that what they had ended. I believe that, but I also know my sister better than I know myself. If she felt the need to push him away, she had feelings deeper than wanting to get laid.
I don't have an excuse for my actions. I only have the truth and my own reasons that don't make it right or even okay.
I wanted to feel alive, and in Kane's touch I felt that. I wanted to surprise myself by taking a chance and making the choice that isn't the safe one. I wanted more than lying in the road, ready to jump just in time. As risky as that seems, I knew when to jump so I wouldn't be hurt. I knew the outcome. It's not really a risk at all.
I jump when I hear the bedroom door open. My body tenses and I ready myself to blurt the words.
"Miles?"
It's not my sister coming from the bedroom like I expected. Instead, I am surprised to see Miles, bedheaded and just waking up. He freezes, just as surprised to find me waiting.
"London?"
"What are you doing here?" I finally ask him. "Did you stay here last night? In there?"
"I can explain," he starts, trying to rub the guilty look off his face.
"I'm not sure you need to."
Miles staying the night isn't unusual. It's actually pretty common. What's unusual is the door he just walked through and the fact that I had no idea how it came to be that way.
I feel betrayed and it doubles with both of the important people hiding from me. I swallow the anger that follows it. I have no right to be angry when I have my own secrets. Even knowing that, it doesn't stop the attack of emotions.
Miles watches me carefully, and I know that I'm transparent. I'm confused, excited, hurt, and overwhelmed. Only weeks ago, Miles was kissing me. Brooklyn was kissing Kane. Now nothing makes sense. My head is swimming, bouncing from emotion to emotion. All extremes and uncontrollable.
"London, say something."
I say the only thing that I can think of. "Don't let her push you away."
I grab the jacket and grab the keys. My hand, knowing the only thing that will calm me, reaches and grabs my camera bag.
"London. Wait," Miles calls after me as I rush down the hall.
"Later, Miles."
I take the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. My hurried steps echo in the garage as I rush to the Jeep. My hands are shaking as I drive away. My chest doesn't hurt because it's Miles or because of what may have happened behind that door. It hurts because it only confirms how far apart Brooklyn and I really are.
How long has the distance between Miles and Brooklyn been closing in? While I was busy pushing him away and fighting attraction to Kane, were they becoming closer? Did Kane and I end up together because we were the discards?
By the time dusk falls, I find myself in a deserted parking lot. Back home, I had a dozen places I could go. The corner store to talk to Mrs. Darcey. The tree house in Miles's back yard. The lake shore. All offered comfort and solitude.
Here, I have my apartment that has never felt like home, and my lonely stretch of road. I get out of the Jeep and grab my bags. The marina is deserted but just as alive as the day Kane first showed me. Immediately, the colors calm me and remind me there is always more to see. Another hue, a different lighting, a better viewpoint.
Nothing is just as it seems. There are layers and hidden textures. There's always more than what our eyes take in.
I slip through the gap of the chained gate and into the empty stadium. The markings are different than the last time I was here. I run my fingers over the paint, inhaling the faint smell of fresh aerosol. I climb the steps slowly so I can take photos of the new artwork. I climb the stairs until I find the catwalk to the control box above the thousands of seats.
I set down my camera and grab the bottle out of the bag that I stopped to buy on the way here. I dangle my legs over the edge, overlooking the water. The skyline is in the distance, reminding me how small and alone I am here. I watch the calm waves of the ocean, letting the blues sooth me.
The sound of footsteps make me jump. I'm about to try to run until I see who is ruining my solitude. His eyes find me immediately above all the seats. He doesn't speak as he climbs the steps and disappears behind a wall decorated with a fire-breathing dragon. Soon, I hear him step on the metal bridge behind me.
"You were gone when I woke up," Kane says.
My skin heats when he sits next to me. My hair stands on end as if my body remembers him. He wordlessly takes the bottle and takes a drink before handing it back to me.
"I thought you would want that," I answer.
"I thought I would too, but I was surprisingly disappointed to find you gone."
I take another drink and look up to the cement roof. I wish someone would graffiti the answers up there for me.
"I'm not sure what that means," I admit, passing the bottle to him.
"Me either."
We sit in silence, thighs touching, arms brushing, passing the Fireball between us. I can almost feel all thoughts swirling in the humid air around us. My doubts, fears, and worries are piling up, just like my secrets.
"How did you find me?" I ask him.
"I heard you in the hall with Miles. I followed you."
"Why?"
"I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"No." I shake my head and take the bottle back for a drink. "I mean, why me? Is it because you can't have Brooklyn, I'm the next best thing?"
Kane reaches over me, taking the bottle and setting it behind us. His warm hand takes my chin and forces me to look at him. His eyes are dark and piercing as they bounce between looking into my eyes or at my parted lips.
He closes the distance and presses a hard but too short kiss to my lips. I can taste the whiskey and cinnamon on his lips.
"I don't know Brooklyn. I know you, London. I don't know that she's afraid of storms, or that she always wants to please everyone around her. I don't know that she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. Even knowing all that, I want to know more. I want to know it all if you would let me."
I look away, unable to hold his intense gaze. The sky is turning purple and pink with the setting sun. I mindlessly take the camera to capture the combination of colors before it fades away to black.
"I'm not just a stunt double standing in because she pushed you out?"
"Is that what you think?"
I don't answer, but I don't need to. That was how Miles made me feel this morning. My eyes betray me and start to water over.
"Don't ever think that, London. I didn't want to know Brooklyn. I look at you and I want to know what you're thinking, what you're running from. I want to know why the fuck you think you're second best."
I play with his hand that's holding mine. His large hands make me feel safe and protected. I look over the water and the deep purple sky. It will be dark soon.
"What are we doing here, Kane? I don't want to hurt people for a fling. I don't want to get hurt."
Kane runs his free hand through his hair before looking at me. His gaze dances over my face like he's trying to read my mind.
"I know I should have stayed away from you, but I just can't, London. I'm sorry, but I have no intention of letting you go. That may be selfish, but I can't seem to care when it comes to you," he says. His voice is low and firm, setting my ski
n on fire and my heart racing.
"I've never hidden anything from her before. And she's hiding whatever is happening with her and Miles. Even Miles is lying to me. I don't feel like we are even the same people who left home that night."
The block of silence is thick as Kane tries to pick out what part of my rant to comment on.
"Who were you back home?"
I smile at his choice. I'm assaulted with memories. Good and bad.
"We were Brooklyn and London. The twins who killed their mother just by being born. The ones with the drunk dad whom no one would help. The good girl and the bad girl," I tell him feeling like I handed a part of myself to him instead of just the bottle.
"Is that why you left? Did he hurt you?"
"We left for a lot of reasons. He hasn't touched us in years, but sometimes his neglect was just as abusive as his slaps or hateful words. He was suffocating us." I wipe a stray tear. "We couldn't just leave him like that, and guilt would always make us stay to take care of him. I wanted to grow up and have my own life. One where I wasn't tied down by a man who didn't love me."
Kane moves so he is behind me and pulls my back to his chest. His arms wrap around my chest, warming and protecting me. I feel his breath on my neck as his lips hover over the skin.
"Do you ever miss home?" he asks.
"Sometimes," I admit. "I miss the sound of frogs and crickets as I'd fall asleep. The treehouse in the backyard that we would spend hours in. I miss knowing my place in the world."
As the sky turns from navy to black, I grow quiet.
"Tell me more," Kane whispers in my ear. "I want to know everything about you."
I laugh and it feels good to feel my lips pull up into a smile.
"You're the investigator. You never looked me up?" I ask, only half teasing. My stomach knots thinking about the things he could find about us that we buried and left behind.
"No. I don't want to find something you aren't willing to tell me."
I look into his eyes, trying to see the deception but I only see honesty. Truth mixed with hope and a little bit of hunger.
"Everything?"