Two beautiful girls I would destroy like everything else in my life if I decided to bring her into my world.
I was about to turn back toward the bathroom when I saw them glaring at me from the end of the table.
I sucked in a breath when I picked up the small silver-framed photograph. The guy could be a fucking model with his perfect hair and bright green eyes leaning against a bar. The next star of that stupid show where dozens of girls lined up to win the chance of wearing his engagement ring. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this guy must be the dad—the baby had the same dark curls. I struggled not to snarl. He should be here. He should be protecting her from me and everything else that this fucking life throws at good women.
I put the frame down and with tentative fingers picked up the last photograph on the bench. The black-and-white photograph that sent the breath I was holding wheezing out. Even in tones of gray it was clearly documenting the baby’s first birthday—filled with cake, a candle, and a big number one balloon. At the center of the photo was a high chair, a little girl’s face covered in bits of cake with only her pigtails free from icing, and her small family surrounding her. My eyes glossed over Millie, the grandmother, and the hot brunette I’d met earlier.
Instead they focused on the only guy in the picture. The one with his arms around the brunette,. a ‘World’s Greatest Uncle’ T-shirt and the same smile the media captured when he won the Heisman Trophy his sophomore year.
A smile that made it into fucking prison because everyone was so enamored by the local town hero.
Grayson Waters.
A smile I’d promised to destroy.
Things just got really fucking complicated.
COOPER
I DECIDED TO WALK BACK to campus. I didn’t say a word to Millie, just grabbed the handful of documents she held out to me and walked out the door.
I needed to process the shit I’d just seen. The family and the smiles. The photo of a guy I’d been told was a scumbag—a fame whore who didn’t give a shit about his family. Flash’s photo of him smiling like the only thing that mattered was a little girl’s first birthday didn’t make any sense.
My facts weren’t adding up. If Parker was wrapped around him, then he was the boyfriend. He wanted to watch a two-year-old, and he whined about not getting the same amount of time with Millie’s daughter. He was not the guy Tony described.
How the hell was he the same guy who threw his dad into prison? The same man who let his brother get gunned down by mobsters because he didn’t keep his gambling accounts paid in full?
I had always been a skeptic, distrusting the words that fell out of people’s mouths from a young age when I realized sooner or later they revealed something very different. But Tony had been crying about Nate since he’d stepped foot in the prison. Never once did he waver in his pathetic appearance and distraught attitude. He kept me up most nights with his pacing, talking about his guilt about not stepping in soon enough. After a year and a half, I believed him.
For once in my life, I finally thought a father might give a damn about his son.
I wanted to stand for that. I wanted to help that man, the man who knew how it felt to have no control over losing someone so fucking important.
I couldn’t have been wrong. I couldn’t have let a mobster convince me that he was the victim, his eldest son a victim and the youngest a criminal.
I was not the idiot who got manipulated.
I was, however, that fucking unlucky.
Promising to help tear apart the few people in Millie’s life. The one girl who almost made me forget the demons I lived with every day.
I needed time. I needed to work out what was real before I did anything.
I got back to campus and was lost in my thoughts. I was only a few feet away when I saw him leaning against my fucking bike.
I was tempted to turn around, leave it all behind.
I hesitated a second too long.
“What? No warm hug?” Eli called out as he straightened his cop’s uniform and smiled at me.
“What do you want?” I asked, approaching with clenched hands tightly constrained in my pockets.
“Now is that any way to greet your brother? I miss your grand exit, and the first chance I get, I come to visit and you aren’t pleased to see me. That hurts, little bro.” He chuckled.
“What do you need?” I muttered.
“It’s not about what I need. It’s about what you need. I got a call today. One of my boys on the inside mentioned that you were in the visitor section today. Except apparently you aren’t Cooper Daniels but Billy Nolan. I thought, ‘well that’s mighty strange. Maybe I need to go find my little brother and see what he’s up to.’”
“Nothing that has anything to do with you. And if you want to turn me in because you’re afraid of what I might be up to, well I’m happy to follow you back to the station, Officer. Sign away my life to you and yours. Again,” I drawled.
“Always so dramatic. Coop, you know that wasn’t me. I was in the hospital. You did that. Attacking a police officer in front of witnesses? You think they would just look the other way? That because of the blood we share you’d get a free pass?” He laughed lightly, then straightened and took a step toward me. “You always had delusions of grandeur, bro.”
“You turned up to his damn funeral in your fucking navy blues,” I gritted out, braced to receive or throw a punch. “You let me pay you off that same fucking morning and still you contacted the Walters. If you hadn’t—”
“The orders came from above. I just followed them. Whatever you believe about me calling all the shots is wrong. I’ve always just followed orders. I did, however, go to the funeral for you, and for Lizzie,” he told me, flashing his white teeth.
“Neither she nor I needed you. I’ve told you from the very beginning to stay away from her. You weren't prepared to be there for her when we all shared the same roof or when sick social workers started cornering her in the group home. Social workers you were in charge of monitoring. Why you thought she needed you to watch Jake be put in the ground—”
“Shit, Coop. Not even prison has changed you. Always so dramatic,” he chuckled. “You know we could’ve avoided all this if you hadn't been such a dumbass that day.”
“Is that so?”
“You know as well as I do that I've been protected. The moment I put on the uniform and the sleaziest of the government workers of this town knew I would follow their rules, I became important to them. You put me in the hospital for three weeks. Two broken ribs, a concussion. There was going to be retaliation. Two years in jail was lucky compared to what they could’ve done.”
“I'd do it again.”
“You keep wanting to blame me, but my phone call wasn’t what ruined that day. It was one delinquent kid doing what delinquent kids usually do when they fuck up: fuck up some more. You’re just pissed that when I left the group home, I joined the system we grew up in instead of trying to fight it.”
“That’s not all I can be pissed about. That phone call—”
“Fine, whatever bullshit you’ve twisted in your head, I get it. Make me the baddest of the bad guys. With the savior complex you like to rock, I know you need someone to blame. I understand that you’re still trying to avenge him in some fucked-up way and I’m the one you’ve decided upon, even though you fail to remember that no one ever fucking avenged shit for me. While you were bouncing around in your first foster homes like a cute wounded puppy, I was moved straight into the group home with guards a lot worse than you all experienced. No one protected me, so why you think I was duty bound to protect all of you escapes me. I lived in the same home. I saw the same troubles. I just decided I was done eating shit. I figure maybe my seven years on earth before you made me smarter, because, little brother, I survived that place. I wasn’t the one trying to bite the hand that fed me. You work with the enemy and you no longer have any reason to fear the enemy.”
“Your logic was fucked back then,
and it’s still fucked up.”
“I have a system that protects me. And what do you have, Coop? How's your savior complex working for you? Notice you haven’t been exactly starting in any games lately. This fancy college’s charity program doesn’t extend all the way to the field, does it? Hate me because I turn a blind eye like everyone before me did and everyone after me will. I don’t live with the threat of being thrown in a cage though, which is more than I can say for you.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not their pet.”
“Jesus Christ, no wonder Dad hit you the most,” Eli muttered. “Stop making stupid mistakes, little brother. Don’t go back to the prison. This is as generous as I get.”
I watched him walk to his car, the pain and anger and fury building.
I let it feed me.
I’d failed Jake, failed Lizzie and Beth. I’d failed myself.
And now after a fucking day with a redhead, I was afraid I was going to fail her as well.
Before I could drive off, the cocksucker pulled up beside my bike and threw a small orange bottle of pills at me. I caught them on reflex.
“I figure your supply is running low these days. Can't be easy to get a hold of oxy out of the joint and with your parole officer coming around all the time. Don’t say your big brother doesn’t look out for you,” he told me before driving off.
I stared at the small bottle.
With all the control I had, I pushed it deep into my pocket. The lifeline I found in prison. It annoyed me that he knew, that he had something else to taunt over me.
Thank fuck I knew the parts of this town where nobody knew jack about anyone else and liked it that way.
MILLIE
I left my house straight after Cooper stormed out without saying goodbye. I could’ve stood in the kitchen and imagined what might’ve happened between us had Parker not walked in, but I knew it would’ve led to something ridiculous like my chasing him down the street.
Arriving at work early was the smarter choice.
I waved at Clint, the bouncer, and entered through the back door. I knew if Getting Lucky spotted me before my shift, she’d make me manage the bar. Hopefully if I caught one of the girls who had a soft spot for single mothers, they’d swap shifts with me. I’d go on early, they’d go on later, and I would make it home in time to snuggle on the couch and watch Outlander with Tahnee.
As soon as I saw Anna at her small dressing table, I knew I was in luck.
“Hey, An—”
“Thank God! You want to change shifts?” the cheerful blonde asked as she spotted me sitting down opposite her.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
“Not a problem at all! Mike just dropped me off and was sulking that we can’t spend more time together. Boyfriends are so hard to make time for, right?”
“Umm yeah, boyfriends—”
“Anyway, I go on in ten. Do you think you can manage that?”
“I can definitely manage that.”
“Awesome. I’ll be back in an hour for your shift, right?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, toodles.” She raced out the door, a complete whirlwind of bubbly enthusiasm.
I waved goodbye and not for the first time thought how much I would probably hate her and her perky California girl attitude if she didn’t give me her shifts whenever she couldn’t be bothered to turn up, or swapped at a moment’s notice, saving my ass.
With only ten minutes to get ready, I started pulling out my supplies.
Every Thursday night I played Jessica Rabbit. I swept my hair so it all fell over my right shoulder in loose curls, painted my lips a blood red, and wore long purple satin gloves. The floor-length strapless red satin dress I used to complete my costume was my favorite burlesque gown.
It was also the most expensive outfit I’d bought for this job. With its sweetheart neckline, exposed boning on the bodice, and a cutout at the front of the skirt that ended at my thighs and revealed nearly all of my legs, the gown was the perfect outfit of a classy seductress. One of the other dancers had a cheap sequined red dress she offered to share when I first started that would’ve also passed as a perfectly good Jessica Rabbit costume, but when I saw this one in a window after coffee with Parker, I knew it was meant for me.
After slipping it on, I was almost able to overlook the fact that I would be revealing my matching thong to the audience after only a couple of minutes. The soft fabric sliding down my skin made me feel like I was waiting for a real party to begin. A party that started with a prince and a horse-drawn carriage.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a prince who ended up calling my name but an angry, middle-aged woman.
“Millie, you swap with Anna again?”
“Yep.”
“All right then. Be warned though, we got a bachelor party out there tonight. You get too close, you’re on your own.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“All my other bouncers called in sick. Can’t risk Clint now or I’ll be closed for the rest of the night. You think about doing something stupid, just know that I’ve given strict instructions that no one’s going to rescue you.”
“I cannot believe you’re telling me this right now.”
“You have a problem, I’ll get one of the other girls.”
“No, no problem. I’ll just keep my moves short.”
“Perfect.”
With those parting words, I walked toward the stage curtain and posed.
Even with short moves, in this dress with a bachelor party going wild in front of the stage, I was ready to make enough money to buy my own damn carriage.
MILLIE
THE FIRST LYRICS OF “HOTTER than Hell” started and I began my transformation. The song was faster and more modern than my usual numbers. The seductive tone and lyrics, coupled with my satin red dress, made me feel every bit the she-devil. I couldn’t help but roll my hips slowly and move my arms across my body freely. I knew the crowd loved it when I heard their cheers.
After dramatically throwing my gloves into the audience, I bent over and slowly slid my hands from my calves to my exposed thighs. I started picturing the path Cooper’s fingers took earlier in the day. It was as if my body was back in that kitchen, recalling the feel of Cooper pressed against my back. I closed my eyes, fantasized that my hands were his as they moved across my cleavage and the boning of my bodice that cupped my breasts.
I got so turned on by the idea of Cooper’s fingers running across my skin and tight dress that I missed the sound of a glass smashing and guys having words at the front of the stage. Lost in the music and my desire, I kept rolling my body to the beat, posing dramatically each time the song reached a crescendo.
Before I realized it, I’d moved too close to the edge of the stage. I remembered the wild bachelor party too late. When a calloused hand grabbed my ankle from amongst the crowd and stopped me from my next dance move, I fought the panic I felt. Instead I focused on looking for someone behind the bar to help. When I finally caught sight of Clint’s look of defeat and Getting Lucky’s shaking head, I realized I was on my own.
The hand moved from my ankle to my hips. Before I could blink, I was thrown over the shoulder of a muscled man and carried outside the club.
With as much gusto as I could muster, I prepared to scream my lungs out. When the cool air bit my exposed skin as we exited the building, my fear sky rocketed. With a renewed sense of self-preservation, I took a deep breath to fill my lungs, but when I opened my mouth to start wailing, I was abruptly dumped to the ground.
My seven-inch heels wobbled on the gravel, and the air I had sucked in wheezed out like a dropped balloon. I tried to stabilize myself and quickly came up with a new plan. The silence in the parking lot reminded me that in this neighborhood, I could scream all evening and no one would come to my rescue, so I put on my saddest face and looked into the eyes of my kidnapper, ready to beg.
I was, like always, ready to save myself.
“You’re not going back in ther
e,” Cooper announced when my eyes locked on his angry stare.
I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t need to beg. I wasn’t being kidnapped. I wasn’t about to be assaulted.
I was about to be lectured. Again.
“You're not doing this anymore,” he demanded.
Fuck, where was a kidnapper when you needed one?
“I’m so sorry, Simon, but just like in the supermarket, you can’t boss me around.”
“You’re a mother, for fuck’s sake.”
With those words, something inside of me snapped.
“You did not just say that to me,” I growled.
“Mill—”
“You think I want to do this? That I don’t wish I could spend every night with my daughter? You think I want to dance around with things attached to my nipples and pretend I love every oily fingered man in there?” Before he had a chance to respond, I continued. “Unfortunately, I don't live in a fairy tale. No one is picking up one of those gloves I dropped in there, checking that it fits, and buying me a castle. Every week there is food, clothes, diapers, and toothpaste I need to buy. Me. Only me. And if I want anything left over to actually improve my life, I need a fuckload more money than they pay at the local diner. So yeah, I’m a mother, for fuck’s sake, and I’m a damn good mother because of this fucking job.”
"Babe, you don't belong here."
"You think I don’t know that? No one belongs here. But all this is just my prologue.”
“Your what?”
“The part of my story that explains how I got Jessie and me into a nice three-bedroom house that doesn’t look like you’ll break your ankle walking up the stairs. Or how I’ll afford an SUV that has working airbags should a dipshit think of hitting my girl and me rather than drive around in a used pickup. So yeah, my job isn't pretty, and it isn't perfect, but I can handle it. It’s a far cry from being an escort and a step up from a stripper. Hell, burlesque can be an art form.”
Flash (Penmore #2) Page 11