by Jody Kaye
The confidence that I’m the only cow Dusty’s getting the milk from evaporates. I have half a mind to march over there and sling my arm over Dusty’s shoulder to gauge Holly’s reaction. I can understand why she’d want him and only stop myself because she’s never been a miserable crotch to me. Holly’s exceptional at her job and has a mouth to feed at home. I won’t start a catfight with her. She doesn’t need trouble on her doorstep and, on a packed night like tonight, whatever I do is bound to cause a scene.
She’s probably the one Dusty wants anyhow. Holly doesn’t take off her clothes for her paycheck. Her style is unique while the rest of us here dress plain old slutty for our tips. Dusty’s offer to take me to Royce’s? It’s a thank you, right? He’s feeding me a steak and kicking me to the curb. I won’t be around anyhow. I’m moving out, he’s moving on.
Sneaking back into the dressing room, I change into a one-piece black leather number for my second time on stage. It matches the boots and pasties I’m wearing. This costume is a bitch to put on and I would’ve sweated like a pig out on the floor. The pasties slip through wide cut outs in the bustier. I consider taking them off. Plenty of other girls go topless. As long as we’re not completely nude, no one’s calling the health inspector. Who am I kidding? No one cares enough anyhow. I’ve left my barest parts to everyone else’s imagination. The only reason I’m contemplating this is to get a rise out of a man who needs no provocation. Dusty’s hard as nails each time we’re together. I try to tell myself we’re all adults here, so let’s call a spade a spade and be done with it… All the while part of me wants to schedule a vet appointment to get the man neutered.
On stage, I sway to the haunting music. This is one of my favorite dances. I know it by heart. Kimber helped choreograph it, and I involuntarily sink down on my knees and sway back up when I listen to the song in my room at the mill. I could perform this number in my sleep and my mind wanders off.
I can’t see Dusty, but—like the nights I’ve pretended to dance only for him to find him holding up a wall as the house lights come up—he’s here. Don’t ask me how my body knows to react to his presence. It’s been like a chemical reaction from the get-go.
I ball change before strutting forward, my toes pointing in my tightly laced boots, remembering how surprised I was when Dusty told me Morgan had asked him to walk me across the street to the mill.
He was quiet, and I felt a bit of a fool for trying to pry open his clamped jaw, peppering him with questions that left me with few answers. The thick air was charged with an uncomfortable silence and I shivered with anticipation, waiting for those clipped responses.
Dusty had his toolbox in one hand and a bucket filled with an auger and rags in the other. At the point we should have gone our separate ways, I’d veered from the landscaped path to the front door and followed Dusty to the parking lot behind the building. He opened the rear driver’s door to his quad cab, putting his tools on the floor. I leaned my hip into the frame. The door snicked shut and Dusty looked at me as if something was in his way.
When his hand yanked me away from his truck, I realized it was me. Yet, when his mouth descended on mine in a blinding kiss, his reasons for needing me to move differed from what I’d suspected.
His large palm caught in my hair as our lips crushed together. The connection I’d felt? He’d sensed it too. And, damn, if I didn’t tip up on my toes when Dusty pulled away.
I heard a rumble in the distance and lightning flashed across the sky, rattling my bones.
“I shouldn’t have…” His sentence trailed, but he’d spoken as I was about to combust waiting for Dusty to say something, anything.
I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth. The taste of him lingered and my tongue shot out, seeking the remains.
Dusty lowered his mouth to my ear. “More?”
One word full of meaning. Did I want more? Hell, I was ready to let this man give me every hard inch of him. My nails dug into his forearms. I racked my brain trying to find the nearest location without security cameras to hide us from view. Although, I doubted we’d give anyone a show inside the truck.
Another roaring rumble caught my attention coming from the back lot entrance. Skye rode in on his motorcycle. A tiny droplet wet my shirt.
Dusty hit his key fob so the headlights turned on, illuminating the darker spot where we stood.
Skye noticed us, swaggering over with a triumphant grin. “Beat the rain. What’re you doing out here?”
I pushed past Dusty, agitated at the cold water dumped on my head. “You and your bike. You’re going to get yourselves killed trying to outrun raindrops.” Skye, Jasper, and Trig are forever telling stories of waiting out spring and summer deluges under an overpass.
I followed Skye to the factory’s rear entrance, sneaking a glance back at the massive man silhouetted by the headlights. My smile and the shake of my hips should have ensured he understood he was welcome to tag along. But to my dismay, Dusty doesn’t make another move for weeks until after he’s gone all alpha-male at the club. I told him off and within twenty-four hours we’re picking up in the bathroom right where we’d left off in the parking lot. The build-up to it made me hotter than sin and, no matter how many times I’ve fucked him since, that afternoon is still some of the best sex I’ve ever had.
The way it’s supposed to, my body drops in mock submission to the final note of the song. My third time on stage is over. The rest of the night’s been a blur. Like the second act before it, I’ve gone through the motions, using the music to reflect on where Dusty and I started and what he wants from me. I’ve experienced every emotion in the course of a few hours, from confusion and anger through childlike hope. It’s left me wound tight. Despite the way my body has swayed, I’m a knotted ball of nerves.
The crowd whistles and hollers. Jake gets up on stage. He hugs me as if he’s hugged me before and says a few words. More to get the crowd to come back again than bidding me farewell.
I lallygag, joking with the other dancers in the dressing room. Morgan is waiting for me when I step out into the brightly lit theater. The cleaning crew is vacuuming the carpet and the bouncers and waitstaff are heading out. My heart skips a beat seeing Dusty behind the bar helping Holly restock.
“Was he bothering you tonight?”
I must’ve craned my neck trying to get one last glimpse of Dusty. My facial muscles, tight from plastering happiness across them, have drawn into a frown. My discontent is apparent even to me.
“No. Only tired,” I lie. My brother had asked me something similar long enough ago that I’m hoping he doesn’t tie the two events together. Besides, it doesn’t matter if Dusty’s moving on to greener pastures. I am too.
“Well, I’m sure your party will perk you up.” Morgan’s over-enthusiastic tugging me out of the front entrance.
“I guess it will.”
But it doesn’t because Dusty never shows.
“Ooh! This would look fantastic on you, Cece!”
I pull a gray sweater over a pink sleeveless top and pop my head above the slatted dressing room door to see what Sloan’s gushing over.
It’s mill girls’ day. Something that, between Christmas shopping and January sales, has become an even more frequent occurrence, mostly because everyone’s schedules are so varied it’s been hard for us all to get together at once. Last weekend, Hailey enticed me with breakfast and fresh produce shopping. Only Aidy could join us at the Farmer’s Market. Today, Hay is on a ride with Jasper and Aidy’s working at Baked Beans, Brighton’s downtown village coffee shop and bakery next to this boutique.
Carver and Trig are pressing the flesh with Jake on the links. I don’t care if we live in North Carolina. What sane person golfs in January? Kimber was the manager on duty at Sweet Caroline’s last night, but took full advantage of her hubby being gone for the day. She hasn’t taken her sunglasses off inside and is nursing her second espresso. With her feet propped on an ottoman in the changing area, if I didn’t know any better, I’d
think she’d played a few rounds at the nineteenth hole before noon. However, Kimber is a recovering addict, and she’s bleary-eyed from being up early to care for her baby and drop him off south of Raleigh at Aidy’s adoptive parents’, Don and Ghillie Fairley, for the day.
Though they resemble and act more like sisters, Kimber is my brother’s girlfriend’s biological mother. The Fairley’s are an older couple and, smitten with Owen, they treat him like he’s their grandson. I’m happy Morgan’s part of this extended family. Although, when the Fairley’s are around, I’m the odd man out. So someday I hope to have a similar situation too. Until then, my mill girls are more than sufficient.
“Where would I wear a dress to?” I open the door to the changing room, drawn to the vibrant silky red fabric. I rub it between my fingertips, admiring the intricate lace collar, and the desire to buy it ratchets up. It’s not practical, though. There are six other items I’ve had my eye on, all of which complete a work ensemble. I may purchase two or three of them. Before shopping today, I’d struck a deal with myself to only buy professional clothes. I didn’t even get anything new for my graduation since the cap and gown hid the skirt I’d worn that afternoon.
Sloan holds the dress up in the air, then to the front of me. She quirks a brow and moves back to the side, inspecting the outfit with price tags still attached that I’m trying on. She lets out a low whistle. “All you need is some horn-rimmed glasses and an Annie Lennox song and you could make the cash back to pay for both of these.”
I finger the lace top again before putting the dress back on the rack. “I wish I’d seen this before New Year’s.”
“Because you would have looked great all dolled up for my toddler,” Kimber removes her shades. “This is stunning.” She motions to my current ensemble. “The dress is too. When are you going to stop dating a spoon and a half gallon of vanilla? Love her to death, but a Sandra Bullock movie and ice cream is not what they mean by ‘Netflix and chill’.”
I shrink when Sloan gets in on the act, reminding me how many times she drags me downstairs in a week.
Kimber hugs me. “You gotta come out of your shell sometime. I swear, girl. In the last year, you’ve gone from hardly a date to not seeing anyone at all.”
“We get school was important—” Sloan pipes up.
“But are you living your best life?” Kimber finishes.
I don’t have an answer. The way they make it sound, I’m not. But I haven’t worked in pediatrics long enough for the ink on my diploma to have dried. Are there steps between steps to reach goals I don’t know about? I won’t let my face fall in disappointment. What I’m hearing is “you need a man” and yet, they’re unaware I’ve had one. Sort of, anyway.
Except, Dusty and I weren’t much and when he decided it was over, I did too.
A bell jingles a tinkly tune in the store. “I’m here!” Holly calls. “Hold on. No, I’m not.” She gets sidetracked by a different dress near the window with a wide belt.
She holds it up for us to approve. We all shake our heads no. Holly’s got great taste in clothes all-around, but the candy apple classic style is her own and not everything she’s attracted to matches the retro look she sticks to. The rest of us couldn’t get away with dressing the way she does unless it was Halloween.
She gives the garment one last glance in a long mirror and decides, “Nope. You’re right. Not me,” and joins our group of three. Instead of a real hello, she signals the tags at my wrist. “If nobody’s told you yet, buy that.”
I head back into the changing room since now that Holly’s here, and apparently the number one complaint they have about my life is being manless, Dusty is in the forefront of my mind.
At first, I all-out avoided the man. I was mad he hadn’t shown for the party. I may not have planned to spend the rest of the night with him by my side, but when Dusty paid more attention to Holly than me, I became mistrustful. Yes, even if I’d sought to avoid him after he asked me out. But most of all, I was mad at myself for not being able to handle my emotions. I still am.
The holidays were a distraction, but as I count the days, it’s been a month since quitting the club. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Dusty, even when I’ve heard a sound reminding me of him and ducked out of my room to look down the hall. He hadn’t shown at Carver’s Christmas Eve party. And where I began working at the medical office park right after the New Year, it’s not as if he could drop by to see me while I was getting ready for Sweet Caroline’s. My grown-up job doesn’t have the same hours the one in adult entertainment did. We aren’t even ships passing in the night.
I change back into my street clothes, decide to only get the cardigan, and then change my mind when I realize it was Holly’s opinion which made me not want the top. I’d be cutting off my nose to spite my face, not getting something I wanted because she liked it. The women here have more experience with men, but I’m smart enough to understand it’s a man coming between my friendship with her. A man I want, for all the wrong reasons, and she’s got.
In all likelihood, they have more in common. Dusty’s age lands squarely between ours. My brother is younger than me, but even he’s getting to the point where he’s done with women who are still trying to find themselves and is in a steady relationship.
Stepping back out, Sloan’s paying for her armful of purchases and Kimber’s snoozing in the chaise, waiting for us to check out.
“You’re not getting anything?”
She holds up a tiny bag, so I presume its earrings or jewelry.
Holly’s browsing my favorite display of perfumes and lotions. She twists the lid on a bottle and sniffs. “This smells pretty.” Her nose wiggles, taking a second whiff. “And familiar. Hey, Cece, do you wear this?”
I sidle up next to her, reaching for a different container of bath beads to see if I like the scent. “I bought the lemon and basil gift set before the holidays.” It was a token Christmas present from me to me. Something I started doing when I got a steadier income. “Before this store stocked it, I used the watermelon and mint. It’s a lot lighter on your skin. I like how the lemon lingers, but you don’t reek of bathing in floor wax and it’s not a sticky pink lemonade odor. It’s—”
“Clean and fresh.” She puts a dab from the tester on her wrist.
“Yeah,” I agree when she offers the bottle labeled coconut and hibiscus to me to pump.
I’m torn, wanting to confess I’ve slept with Dusty. It’s better if she finds out from me rather than getting so far into a relationship with him that keeping it from her makes Holly hurt or angry. But this horrible part of me is jealous, and I can’t help hoping whatever is between Holly and Dusty isn’t serious.
I lift the spot I’ve dabbed to my nose. The coconut is smooth. The hibiscus is overpowering for my taste. More perfumy than refreshing.
“What did you find?” Kimber noses in. “Are we going to see Aidy?”
“Did your espresso kick in, Dearest?” Holly counters the two swift questions with a pat on the arm.
“Yes, finally.”
“How long until your next dose?”
“You’re awful.”
“Oh, I’m awful? Come here, let me hug you! Have you ever worked with you when you are caffeine-free? I’m terrorized by the idea of Owen becoming a big brother. Nine months of you and decaf at midnight and I’m jumping up and down when Jake drags his sorry ass into the club.” Holly’s the first to pull out of the embrace.
“Say what you mean, why don’t you?” Kimber strokes her long red hair back behind her shoulders, her sunglasses now a makeshift headband.
“You know I will. I love you so much, I’ll even buy your next grande.”
They both snicker at the deal, secure in the rapport they keep.
I wish I had the confidence to tell my friends anything. If it’s serious between them, Holly wouldn’t care about his slow speech or get her feathers ruffled by anyone questioning her interest in him beyond the physical.
If I’d been s
mart, I might have asked Holly’s advice about Dusty. Or even said to Kimber or Sloan, “Hey, there’s this guy…” Now I’ve dug too deep a hole to climb out of.
In our group, everybody’s got somebody and the body I had was never mine to begin with.
My imagination plays tricks on me. I envision Dusty dropping his nose to nuzzle behind Holly’s ear, the way he’s done to me. I wonder if she’d say I helped her pick out the scent. If he’d react at all hearing my name. I worry he might prefer hibiscus to lemon.
The moment I shut my heart off years ago comes back vividly. It’s accompanied by other memories, like accepting a date with a boy attractive enough to have sex with, but I’d leave behind before they dragged me down. My only real experiences with romantic love are watching people use the word to cause pain.
I offer for the girls to go next door to Baked Beans, saying I’ll be there as soon as the salesclerk has cashed me out. Sloan and Kimber take me up on it. To my chagrin, Holly stays put.
“What with the glum face?” She tsks, a crooked smile on her flawless painted red lips. Her purchases are bagged. She’s cheery, popping a fresh bottle of lemon basil lotion on top of my pile of clothes. “Trust me. It’s perfect on you.”
Something stabs in my heart. If his intentions were honest, I think I’m the one who hurt Dusty. That’s why he hasn’t come back. Why he’s ready to move on with Holly.
I finish paying for my purchases. My stomach is in knots, and I don’t know if I’m green with envy or coming down with an attack of conscience. Either way, if I open my mouth now, I’ll wreck the day. “Could you tell Sloan and Kimber I’m going home? I’m not feeling well.”
“Sure thing.” She loops an arm in mine, guiding me out of the store. “When you’re better, we need to chat about a condo being rented near me.”
“Okay,” I squeak. I’m having a hard enough time letting go of him now. How can I ever live in the same complex as Holly does if Dusty’s around?