Three had been message tones, two had been calls, but she refused to look. She wasn’t about to torture herself by reading his messages.
She forced down a spoonful of spaghetti and chewed with determination. She wasn’t going to let this affect her. She’d been through worse!
Emily choked on a strand and forced it back before she gagged. Red sauce swam in the white plate and she studied it with disdain. The bits of spaghetti reminded her of bodies, like some sick car crash for her viewing pleasure.
She pushed it aside and crept to the window again, but Big Nick and his cronies were nowhere in sight.
Another knock at the door and the bastard tried the handle.
“Get out of here!” Emily yelled, hurrying into the kitchen and pulling open a drawer of knives. “Get lost.” She grabbed her sharpest steak knife and held it aloft.
“Emily?”
That wasn’t Big Nick’s ‘dulcet’ tone.
“Emily? It’s Chase.”
She dropped the knife in the drawer and staggered to her front door. She unlocked it at the speed of lightning, then dragged Chase indoors and locked them in.
“What the hell is going on?”
Emily was mute. She shook her head and swallowed tears. Now that there was another person in her apartment, the wall crumbled a little.
“Why did you come?” She spoke through numb lips.
“I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
Emily pushed past him and leaned on the wobbly kitchen table, keeping herself upright. He walked up and touched her shoulder. The dam broke.
She turned and launched herself into Chase’s arms and he folded her into his chest.
“What happened?”
But she couldn’t answer.
“Is it that Big Nick guy? He giving you trouble?”
The front of his shirt was wet from her tears, but she couldn’t stop sobbing.
“Em, you need to tell me what’s going on, otherwise I can’t help you.”
“You can’t help me.” She forced herself out of his grasp and went to sit on her dilapidated sofa.
Chase loosened the top two buttons on his shirt and massaged the back of his neck.
“Of course I can. Nothing is insurmountable. Do you need money?”
She grimaced up at him. “Keep it.”
“Then what, Emily? Fuck, I’m trying to help you here. Give me more than that, anything.”
She kept silent, staring at a spot on the wall where water damage had leaked through. He got two beers out of her fridge and opened them, then handed her one.
Could she trust him? There was nobody else in her life and she was so tired of keeping it in.
“I used to be a drug addict.”
Chase sat down beside her and moved in close. She waited for the rejection, but it never came.
“Good for you.”
“Yeah, I owe Nick a lot of money because of that. He drew me in with a freebie and got me hooked and from there it was downhill.”
“How did you get out of it?”
“I realized that some things are more important than the next high.” Emily toyed with the rim of the bottle.
“Like what?”
Here went nothing.
“My children.”
The apartment went quiet except for the rumble of car engines outside and a distant gunshot.
“Pardon?”
“I have two children from a previous marriage. It didn’t end well, and when I lost custody I lost my mind.” She turned to him, expecting hatred or anger, but she got pure empathy. “Losing Jared and Becci was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I sank into drugs before I could think.” It wasn’t exactly true, but it was close enough.
“I’m sorry, Emily.” He squeezed her hand, then slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I wish I could’ve helped you somehow.”
“Thanks,” she bleated.
“But wait, I can still help you with Big Nick.”
“I won’t let you give me money, Chase. I refuse, I’m sorry. I’ve never been the kind of person to take handouts.”
“What if I lent it you?”
“No. I need to do this on my own. I need to prove that I can pull myself together and get the kids back on my own.”
Chase ruffled his hair in frustration, searching the room for an alternative. “Okay, okay. What if I got Big Nick out of your hair until you can make the money?”
That was interesting.
“How?”
“I’ve got a few, uh, connections in law enforcement. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Emily took a sip of her beer. “It won’t work, Chase, but thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not Nick on his own. He’s got a bunch of cronies walking around, and I don’t know half of them. Hell, I don’t even know one by sight. The minute you take him out, is the minute he phones his buddy to come ‘exact his payment’.”
“Shit.” Chase slapped his thighs and stood up to pace around in front of her.
“I’ve got to handle this on my own. Somehow.”
He struck a pose and considered what she’d said, scratching at his chin stubble with a manly rasp. “Fine, but I’m going to be around, keeping watch on things. So don’t feel alone.”
She couldn’t describe how much that meant to her, so she settled for a nod.
“How come you’ve got so many contacts?”
Emily had spewed her past all over the place, it was about time he opened up a little too. The mystery man act was cute for a couple weeks, then it got old fast.
“I’m a successful business owner with a couple connections. It’s nothing special.” He dropped down beside her again. “Listen, are you okay? Do you want me to stick around tonight?”
Emily quirked an eyebrow at him. “I think I’ll survive.” Another lie.
“Ah come on. I’ll sleep on the couch, woman, you don’t have to worry.”
She lightened up a little and allowed herself a smile. Having him around had calmed her nerves, perhaps it was better if he stayed the night, in case Nick and his buddies came back for another peek.
“All right. But no funny stuff,” she joked, and he clipped her chin lightly with his forefinger.
It was an affectionate move which made her want to stay with him on the couch, or invite him into her bed.
“No promises.” Chase winked at her and her mouth went dry.
“I’ll get you a blanket and pillow.” Emily struggled up, keenly aware that he was likely admiring her ass as she strode off.
He was good guy, albeit a guy who refused to talk about himself. Ever.
Could she trust him?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emily didn’t care what the song was. She was exhausted from the ‘Big Nick scare’ the night before.
She grasped the pole, flipped herself upside down and wrapped her legs around it, then slid down until her arms touched the ground. Emily did a backwards handstand off the pole and settled into a split a second later.
The men at the end of the stage had their mouths open, watching her bump and grind.
Big Nick stood beside the exit as usual, those oversized thumbs in his belt loops, with a Cheshire grin on his pocked, sweaty features.
The smoke in the club was a haze above ashtrays and half full drinks. It was 10 in the morning and still the club had a couple regulars flitting about. Men without wives or men with wives who didn’t put out or men who were total sleazebags beside and the strippers gravitated around them.
Isis was in, doing lap dances with about as much skill as an amoeba, though lap dances weren’t exactly an art form or anything. The stripper was pretty except for her over-sized nose and shit attitude.
She glanced up mid-dance and met Emily’s gaze, then rolled her eyes and carried on gyrating. The grubby trucker she ‘entertained’ wore an expression glazed with boredom and held a wad of bills he’d yet to insert into Isis’ gaudy pink hot pants.
“Nice rack,” an old timer called out at the end of stage, and Emily swayed across the stage and allowed him to insert a fifty into her thong.
So far, the morning had been demeaning and Big Nick’s constant presence spurred on the nausea. She’d spew chunks at this rate. He strolled past the end of the stage and winked at her, then guffawed and clapped once. The men ignored him, sipping from drinks, smoking cigarette after cigarette.
The strip club’s door opened and Chase entered. Humiliation joined the nausea and Emily retreated to the pole again, but he’d already spotted her. Looked like he meant to make good on that promise of keeping watch on things.
It gratified her in a way. She’d started to trust him and his character, and that scared her a lot.
Big Nick hadn’t noticed the new addition to the audience yet.
Chase sauntered up to him with a shit-eating grin. “Hiya little fella. Long time no see.” He aimed a playful punch at Nick’s shoulder and the bouncer cracked those skew knuckles and growled.
“What are you doing here?” Big Nick asked in that typical half-brained drawl.
“Oh, ya know, keeping tabs on my favorite club.”
They were right at the end of her section of the stage and she was tempted to creep closer and observe. But she wasn’t that crazy.
“I’ll be in the back over there if you need me,” Chase spoke too loudly and it was obvious the comment wasn’t aimed at the mini-giant in steel-toed boots.
Emily couldn’t help admiring him. He had balls to come back to the club after the beating, but then, he was sober. He’d probably have more of a chance against Nick if things went south.
Big Nick shook a fist at him and Chase chuckled, gave a cheery wave and navigated the tables and strippers to take up a seat at the back, a few tables down from Isis’ precious dance show.
Emily moved with the rhythm and glanced away from that direction. Chase was fixated on her, and she couldn’t help picturing that it was a private dance, just the two of them in the room with the heat and distance between them. It helped with the nausea.
She spun around the pole, fixating on the clock above the DJ booth, and enjoying the sensation of dancing. She tuned out the jeers and chuckles from the watchers and reveled in the fluidity of the dance.
If she could she’d be a dance teacher in a heartbeat. Even if it was to teach other strippers how to pole dance. Emily scoffed at the thought – fat chance that would ever happen.
Stripping was all she’d ever get.
Chase’s gaze was payment enough for the dirty work, though she didn’t need compensation from him. Emily had fallen too fast. She’d done exactly what she hadn’t wanted to.
She rotated on the pole, came full circle and glanced at Chase to check she still had his attention.
Isis was in front of him, top off, ass in his lap, grinding like there was no tomorrow. The brunette stripper with creamy tan skin wore a smirk to match the gaze she’d plastered on Emily.
Isis knew there was heat between Emily and Chase.
She wanted trouble.
She’d fucking get it.
Emily gripped the pole and rattled it slightly, palms growing hot. A blue flame of anger and heat developed in her mind; Isis bent in front of Chase and wiggled.
Chase’s expression was a picture of revulsion. He pushed his chair back and tried to get up, but Isis turned and forced him back down, straddling him in those pink teeny tiny shorts.
“Hey, bitch!” Emily screamed from the stage and the audience went still.
“Emily, no. Don’t do it.” Chase tried moving out of his chair again, but Isis wouldn’t let him. The slut shook her hair back and laughed, then grabbed him by the hair and forced him between her breasts.
“Get the fuck off him, you whore.” Emily kicked her stilettos off and charged down the stage. She jumped off and landed, then sprinted towards the grinding stripper.
“Go dance for Big Nick, Candy Lane.” Isis moved her hips in circles, desperately trying to arouse Chase, who’d managed to pull free of her massive jugs.
“What the hell is wrong with you,” he spat, smearing glitter off his nose.
“Ha.” That was all Emily said. She grabbed a fistful of Isis’ hair and lugged her off Chase’s lap.
“My extensions!” Isis fumbled at her hair and screamed blue murder. “My extensions, you crazy whore.”
The men in the club started chanting and cheering them on. “Stripper fight, stripper fight, stripper fight.”
Emily gripped Isis’ fake locks and leveraged until the stripper was on her feet. She wrenched the bitch’s face to her own and glared deep into those terror-filled orbs, “You touch him again and I’ll shave your head. Got it?”
“Emily!” The quilted door to the back room slammed open and the big boss marched out, cigar hanging from the end of his fingers. He wore aviator sunglasses indoors and a thick gold chain was nestled in a forest of chest hair.
“Are those leather pants?” Chase muttered it nearby.
Emily dropped Isis, who crumpled to the floor and let out a chain of fake sobs.
The big boss, Hilton, halted in front of her and the chanting settled down, drifting off on the smoke.
“Pack your shit and get out. You’re fired.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Leave me alone.” Emily stormed down the road and into the alley where she’d been hunted down the night before. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Chase stalked along beside her. “Are you out of your damn mind?”
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. But there’s been endless trouble since you forced yourself into my life.”
“What?!”
“You heard me.” Emily joined the flow of walkers along the main street, heading in the direction of the apartment. She was out of a job, she had no fucking prospects and no method of getting her kids back without money. They’d have to take her mother out of the old age home.
And it was his fault.
“You’ve been nothing but trouble since the minute you walked into The Tease, drunk because of some tragic break up or make up or whatever the fuck it is that’s going on in your life, that you refuse to talk about.”
“Hold on a minute,” Chase answered, raising his hand in objection.
But she wouldn’t be deterred from her diatribe. “Oh ho, Mr. Mystery man. You’re so desperate for attention or popularity that you’re relying on me for your emotional needs.”
“Excuse me,” he replied, tone dangerously quiet, “but I’m not the one who came looking for me at the hospital. I wouldn’t even have known you existed if you hadn’t turned up in your cute skirt with a Hallmark card.”
“I left. I said no to you. I didn’t want this complication in my life, but you came after me.” Emily should’ve known better than to trust him.
“I saved your ass from that fat gorilla and you’re taking issue here. You’d have been dead if it wasn’t for me.” He stopped and she turned to him.
“Ditto.”
They glared at each other, feet apart with pedestrians rushing between them. Nobody cared about the fighting couple in the morning traffic.
“Emily, this can’t be the end.”
“Then how come it is?”
“Wasn’t that a line from Friends?” Chase rearranged his dark wavy hair.
“Don’t call me again.” Emily turned and jogged off into the crowd, her bag jostling against her side and her heart sitting in the sole of her foot. It had sunk into non-existence. She’d been so stupid to allow herself to feel for Chase.
Emily let herself into the apartment twenty five minutes later and locked the door behind her. She couldn’t risk Chase barging in and stealing her heart back.
What now? What could she do? Where could she go?
This wasn’t how it was meant to be.
She dropped her bag on the unsteady table and hurried to the cookie jar on top of her grumbling fridge – it was almost out of coolant, she was sure, it was m
ore like an incubator these days.
Emily took it down, unscrewed it and fished out handfuls of dollars, then dumped them on the countertop. She got her wallet out of her bag and brought out crinkled bills she’d scrunched into it before she’d left the club.
She sat down to count.
“$2000.”
It was enough to rent a cheap apartment for a month and some food, but she didn’t have job, and the old age home was a good portion of her profit a month.
She was screwed.
Emily racked her brains for a friend to call, anyone who could help her get a job, but there was no one.
Ring, ring, ring.
The triple tone for a call went off on her phone and she grappled it out of her handbag, ready to give Chase another piece of her mind. She’d told him not to call, but he couldn’t let it go.
Talk about obsessive.
But it wasn’t Chase.
Dickhead.
The title flashed on the screen and her neck muscles tightened. It was the word she’d used to save Big Nick’s number.
“What do you want?”
“That’s a nice way to say hello, baby girl.” Nick made his tone obsequious and she gagged a little.
“Get to the point, Nick. I’m not in the mood for this.”
“Yeah, that was an awesome show you put on in the club. Looks like you’re out of a job because of that faggot boyfriend of yours.”
She held the phone at arm’s length and revulsion spiraling within her.
“What the fuck do you want?” Emily shrieked it, then brought the cursed piece of technology back to her ear.
“I think you know what I want, girlie.”
“I don’t have the money, Nick. I’m sure you can understand, since I was fired not more than an hour ago. Have some compassion.”
“I’ll have compassion when you’re underneath me.” Big Nick was dead serious, she could tell from slurping of him chewing gum and popping a bubble into the receiver.
“I’m never going to sleep with you.”
“Honey, I think it’s funny you think you got a choice. I’ll be seeing you. Soon.”
Click.
The line was dead and so were Emily’s hopes and dreams.
Never Say Never, Part One (Second Chance Romance, Book 1) Page 5