by Romi Hart
She sat down at her vanity and stared at her reflection, wondering just what it was Harrison thought he wanted. He acted like he cared, but then he turned around and treated her like some whore he could pay off. And he hadn’t made a move on her in forever. In fact, he’d said something once about having feelings, but he’d never let that vulnerable side out again, and it left her confused and irritated.
She heard talk around her. The girls at the club and the boys from the MC both had opinions of Harrison and his reputation that weren’t exactly stellar. The girls were disappointed that the flirtatious playboy seemed to have traded in his belt with all the notches for a new V card, and the guys teased him about having taken a vow of celibacy and asked him if he had some sort of fever. Obviously, he hadn’t been with anyone else in weeks. In fact, it almost sounded as if he hadn’t slept with anyone since the night they’d first hooked up.
But did that mean anything if he wasn’t acting like they had something between them? Other than this little contract he’d tried to hand her. She’d judged him early on as the type of guy that didn’t have a bone in his body willing to enter a committed relationship, but she’d changed her mind as she’d gotten to know him, thinking there was a remote possibility. Maybe she should have stuck with her intuition on that one and not given him a second glance, much less multiple opportunities to satisfy her desire for him.
As she thought about it, her blood pressure started to rise with her ire fueling her once again. She had worked so hard to be her own person, to not depend on anyone but herself. And she wanted that. But she also wanted Harrison, and it was incredibly naïve to think she could have a relationship and not be somewhat dependent on her partner. Even Rory, who was probably the most independent woman she knew, relied on Eli, and that wasn’t a toxic relationship.
But then, Rory didn’t have the history she did, nor the trust issues that said history had raised within Skye. Maybe she needed to face her own inner demons so she could have a reasonable conversation with Harrison. There were things they both needed to work out, and the fact that he’d been avoiding the club told Skye he knew it, too, and was acting like a coward. That was fine. She knew where to find him. And maybe after a little retail therapy with Rory, she’d be ready to seek him out and force him to face her.
* * *
Skye woke up earlier than she had expected but felt surprisingly refreshed. She plodded to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee and continued to the bathroom for a shower. She had never done Yoga before but had been promising Rory she would try it since they had first met. Skye knew Rory had her best interests at heart and considering her friend’s suggestions for meditative practices, she felt she had nothing to lose.
She peeled her tank top off and flung the bathroom door open, shimmying out of her underwear and turning the water on as she pulled her hair down and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She wrinkled her nose at the bags under her eyes. Despite feeling wide awake and ready to go, she looked like she hadn’t slept a wink in several days.
Stepping into the shower she allowed her mind to drift to her argument with Harrison as it did often, but this time, guilt began to set it. She had considered only her perspective in the matter and labeled Harrison as stubborn and pigheaded for his offer. But maybe she’d overreacted and been too harsh. Maybe she was just as stubborn as he was.
Maybe, from his side of things, Harrison thought it had been a noble and chivalrous gesture. Maybe it was his way of showing he cared, even if it was completely misogynistic and misguided. She sighed as she scrubbed and rinsed, her mind drifting to the way his hands felt on her body. She groaned and decided she had to at least talk to him, give him the benefit of the doubt, and see if there was anything to be salvaged.
But first, she thought as she toweled off and hurried to her room to dress, she would have female therapy with yoga and pampering. Then, she’d feel on top of the world, and it wouldn’t matter how he responded. He couldn’t possibly bring her down.
An hour and a half later, she sat outside Rory’s apartment, texting that she was waiting and watching with a chuckle as the pregnant woman waddled her way carefully down the stairs. As she maneuvered herself into the passenger seat with a groan, her face brightened to see that Skye had brought coffee for both of them. “You’re a lifesaver,” Rory breathed with relief. “It takes a lot of energy getting up and down those steps like this, even when you’re in good shape.”
Skye laughed and motioned to her outfit of yoga pants and tank top. “So, do I look prepared for the class?” she asked.
“You look perfect,” Rory smiled, sipping her coffee and rolling her eyes in pleasure. “Nice car,” she commented.
Skye knew better. It was an older model, and she kept it in good condition, but it was a far cry from enviable. “It’s a ride. I’d like to have something better, but I’m saving up for something else first. Priorities.”
Rory shrugged. “I don’t take my stock in items. They’re necessary, and it’s a bonus if they’re nice. But they won’t follow me into the next life, so function is more important than appearance. Material things aren’t everlasting, so they aren’t the key to happiness.”
“You really spend a lot of time introspecting, don’t you?” Skye asked.
“I guess you could call it that.” Rory stated as she worked to get the seatbelt around her midsection and click it.
“How did you get into yoga so deeply?” Skye asked as she threw the car into reverse and turned out into the street.
“It’s sort of hard to explain.” Rory said. “It wasn’t a conscious choice. It sort of fell in my lap, and I felt like it had always been a part of me that just hadn’t come to the surface before.”
“I guess I can relate to that. I didn’t exactly intend to dance for a living.” Skye scowled, not sure she liked the direction of this conversation and kicking herself for having started it in the first place.
“You seem like you regret it sometimes,” Rory mused.
“I am by no means ashamed of what I do,” Skye said, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t think it’s wrong. I do think it’s wrong to perform sexual favors for profit, but that’s not what I do. I provide entertainment, and that’s a legit job.” Skye hesitated, “I never wanted to be affiliated with a club that overlooks the under the table stuff. I’d rather run my own place, one that’s not so seedy. And I’d handpick my security.” She sighed. “In my opinion, Harrison, Eli, and Rocky are the only ones at our place that make any difference.”
“I can understand that.”
Skye laughed, noting the polite tone. “I know you don’t like going there. I’ve seen how you react to the place.” Skye stated. “And for the record, I don’t blame you.”
“Well, bad shit has happened there, more than once. Even I fell victim to it. I worry about you, Skye. I worry about all of the girls but especially you, with your popularity. You’re my friend, and that sets you apart.” Rory said.
“Eli endangers himself being there all the time, too.” Skye pointed out.
“True, but if they succeed at getting rid of the Ravens, a lot of that danger disappears for all of you. Would you still want your own club if they managed to clean up your current place?” she asked.
“Yes, because I don’t want to answer to anyone else. I want to make my own way, run my own business, and be my own boss. I don’t want to rely on anyone else to assure my future.” She pursed her lips, thinking about Harrison. “That’s why I couldn’t accept Harrison’s offer, either.”
“What offer?” Rory asked, suddenly more intent on the conversation. Needing to take the load off her shoulders, Skye told her about the argument and what Harrison had said, as well as her own reaction. “Are you blind?” she responded, giving Skye an incredulous look as she pulled up to the yoga studio.
Skye blinked at her and scowled. “What do you mean?”
“I get that it’s not your style, but Harrison wouldn’t make that sort of offer to just anyone.
He’s crazy about you. He’s been completely off his game. Eli’s been watching him because he’s a loose cannon lately, even attacked Corey the other day. And he says that Harrison hasn’t been playing the field like he usually does. That it’s been weeks, maybe months, since he’s gone after a girl. So, you tell me. How long have you two been hung up on each other?”
Skye got out of the car and went around to help Rory leverage herself out as well, not eager to get into the dynamics of her non-relationship with Harrison. “I don’t know how to answer that,” she finally said, releasing a huff of air.
Smirking, Rory shook her head and started toward the building. “From my understanding, the timing seems about right. And doesn’t that also line up with the binge drinking?” Skye avoided eye contact, not wanting to talk about her own actions after that close call. “That’s what I thought. According to Eli, that happened after some chick took Harrison to a back room and, five minutes later, came out ranting about teases and impotence.”
Had it been anyone else, Skye would have laughed. But it was a serious thing, and she couldn’t wrap her head around it. If he’d been hung up on her from the start, why had things been so damn difficult between them? And why couldn’t she trust him enough to compromise and work toward an understanding?
Of course, at this point, she was done trying to figure it out, at least for now. Rory made some points she had to consider, points that validated assessments she’s already made but couldn’t explain. It was time to drop it and let her mind and body fall into the relaxation and low stress needed to truly analyze her next move.
13
Harrison squinted at the stage, everything blurred through the haze of liquor. He hadn’t wanted to come back to the strip club, had all but begged Corey to let him have some other opportunity within the MC structure. But that hadn’t gone over well.
“What’s your problem, Harrison? You were heavily invested in this deal, and now you just want to shuck it off on Eli’s shoulders?” Corey had railed at him. “Are you mixed up in some shit right now? Did you knock up one of the girls?”
Harrison had clenched his jaw. “No, I didn’t. I’m not stupid, boss.” He flinched internally at his lie, not meeting Corey’s eyes.
“Then what is it?” Corey bit out sharply. “You’re wasting my time because I seriously doubt you have a good reason.”
And try as he might, Harrison couldn’t come up with a valid excuse without telling the truth – that he didn’t want to face Skye again. He’s managed to keep out of the club for almost a week, but Eli had come to him in need of the help, done with his little sabbatical, and he’d had no choice but to either return or beg for a new assignment. Dropping his shoulders, he’d told Corey, “Just forget it. I thought we had each other’s backs, and I need the space. But that’s alright, boss. I’m an adult. I’ll take whatever you shove in my face if it’s best for the Flames.” He’d stormed out of the office and hightailed it straight to the strip joint, swiping a bottle of Svedka from behind the bar on the way out.
A couple hours later, he couldn’t make out whether that was Skye on the stage or not at first, having gotten down to the last couple of swallows. He’d hit it harder than he intended, but it was the only way he could make himself sit here, in such close proximity to a woman who had rejected him. A woman whose rejection was not only one of very few in his life, but who meant more to him than any other woman he’d ever wanted in his life.
He would have felt shame had he felt anything at all. He knew better than to drown his sorrows like this. It had already gotten him in plenty of trouble, and recently at that. At the same time, he couldn’t even breathe knowing that Skye was here, likely still livid with him, and ready to let other men touch her, without having something to ease the pain. And for some reason, he felt that, if he reeked of booze and couldn’t focus, she’d avoid him like the plague. He wanted her, but he didn’t want her anger and judgment anymore.
The room tilted, and Harrison realized he was slipping from the barstool. He grasped the bar with both hands and righted himself, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would clear the haze. But that just made him queasy, so he opened them and glanced around, trying to ignore the bright lights with halos around them that stabbed into his head. It was starting to throb, and he briefly considered getting another bottle from Charlie.
No, that was a bad idea. He didn’t need to end up back in the hospital, right? Clearing his throat, he tried to bring the crowd into focus as he overheard a scuffle off to his left. He turned slowly, not wanting the liquor to swish between his ears, and he laughed at that thought. Yes, he’d gone too far. Again.
The issue had been addressed, apparently, with two of his men hauling a screaming patron out the front door. Served him right, Harrison assumed. Most of these men were complete lechers, and even some of his own men had become problematic. Anyone disrespecting these women deserved to be beaten to within an inch of their lives. And that applied to his own behavior, too, he supposed. He hadn’t exactly put his hands on Skye – or any of the others, for that matter – against their will. But he had completely disrespected Skye without even trying. In fact, his intentions had been good, right?
He recognized the music instantly and tried to concentrate on seeing Skye get on stage, his train of thought completely derailed with ease at this point. But he could barely make out her motions as she danced, and he couldn’t tell one face from another as men gathered round, ready to shove money in that g-string of hers. Couldn’t she wear something that revealed a little less? Not that he could see right now. For all he knew, she was wearing flannel pajamas.
That was good, he reminded himself. If he could have made out the details, he would have been even more miserable. He couldn’t subject himself to the taunting and teasing of her undulating body, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to hold back his rage and jealousy – yes, it was jealousy, even if he didn’t want to admit it – as men groped and caressed the body that should have been his alone.
Possessive son of a bitch all of a sudden, he thought.
The catcalls and cheers grew louder, and he wanted to turn away, wanted to bang his head on the bar as if it would drown out the offensive sound. But even without being able to really see her, he couldn’t look away from Skye. He knew her routine, and it played in his head, as if it was a private dance, which only served to make him ache for her.
Hindsight was twenty-twenty, even if he had powered down enough alcohol to be considered legally blind.
Thankfully, the torture wasn’t endless, and eventually, the music stopped. Another dancer took the stage, and Harrison lowered his head into his hands, trying to breathe normally. His brain seemed to be having trouble controlling blood flow and respiratory exercises at the same time. He needed to get out of here, but Eli would read him the riot act for abandoning his post yet again, when he’d just come back.
“Is everything okay, Harrison?” The familiar voice jolted him, with a spark of electricity crawling down his spine and straight to his cock, which throbbed with the intensity of his sudden and immediate arousal. Funny, the last time he’d been drunk, nothing could make the big guy twitch. Now, as the world tilted too far on its axis, just a few words in that sweet, New York accent had him ready to slam the woman into the headboard a few dozen times.
He lifted his head and smiled, forcing that charm he was so good at, even though Skye’s face was out of focus enough to give her four eyes and cartoonishly plump lips. “I’m fine, just a little headache. Good show tonight.”
“Thanks. Listen, I need to talk to you, if you don’t mind. It’s pretty important. I’ve been wanting to say something for a while, but you haven’t been here. I thought maybe you needed…space.” Even through the fog, he could see desperation and concern in her expression, and he knew he couldn’t turn her away. She could have probably asked him to drive his bike right into the lake and drown, and he would have done it for her.
Jesus, he was hopeless.
At the same time, he couldn’t put a clear thought together, so how was he supposed to listen to her with any sort of sincerity? Taking a deep breath that stung and ached, he nodded. “Sure, we can talk. Why don’t you head back to Eli’s office, and I’m going to go to the restroom and splash some cold water on my face, see if I can’t knock this headache out.”
She nodded, drink in hand already, and started toward the back. It gave Harrison a moment to collect himself and try to stand on legs made of equal parts jelly and lead. He didn’t want her to see him stumbling, so he waited until she disappeared through the door and then wobbled on unsteady feet to the restroom. He really had to stop doing this to himself. It was degrading, and that trumped the need for oblivion, even where concern for his health didn’t.
Standing in front of the sink, he splashed the freezing cold water on his face several times, on his hair and down the back of his neck, and slowly, his reflection came into focus. He looked like hammered shit, bags under bloodshot eyes and face unshaven and haggard. Usually, he could see why women found him attractive, but tonight, he was no prize. He scowled. Many a man in his family had succumbed to the draw of this emotionless pleasure, but he wasn’t ready to die, not yet. He wasn’t going to become an alcoholic, especially if there was a chance he could fix things with Skye and maybe, just maybe, get her to let him stake a claim.
Determined to sober up, he stopped back by the bar, slapping the surface and barking out for Charlie to get him some cold water and a coffee. When the bartender returned, he bowed his head shamefully. “I didn’t intend to be so harsh.”
Charlie held up a hand to stop the apology. “You think I haven’t been watching you suck on that bottle all night like an infant on his mother’s tit? I get it. But she won’t.” He nodded toward the back. “I’ve stayed out of it up till now, Harrison. But let me tell you, if you’re aiming to make something out of your interludes, you need to shape up and fly right. She’s worth it, but if you hurt her, there are plenty of people in line to make sure you never get another chance to do it again.”