My breath coming in pants, my tank top askew, I turn to leave.
A hand on my wrist stops me. “Not so fast,” he says.
Trembling, I look back at him. His eyes are dark and terrifying. “I didn’t mean to steal it.”
“I know,” he says simply, and I believe he does know.
“Then let me go.”
“I’m not keeping you for that, Lola.” He pulls, and I fall off balance, landing in his arms in an awkward, painful sprawl. His other hand fists in my hair, pulls back. I stare at the harsh overhead light while he murmurs in my ear. “You owe me a hell of a lot more than whatever’s in my wallet, and I think you know that. So don’t give me any trouble. Or you know what? Do. Go ahead and fight. It’ll just make me hotter.”
* * *
I rest my chin on his chest, fingers playing in his hair. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“What they say about you.” I don’t need to spell it out, but he’s making me. “That you killed a kid at your last school.”
His eyes are dark. “People talk too much.”
My heart lurches. “So it’s true.”
He shrugs, which shifts his large body underneath mine. He’s cradling me, one hand on my back, the other on my ass. We’re nestled in the attic, hidden away. I feel completely safe—the exact opposite of how I should with what he’s just admitted.
I’m scared too. I don’t know what he’s capable of or why. I don’t know what will set him off. For now he seems to like me. And for now, that’s enough.
“Is your name really Blue?”
He makes a face. ”Really?”
I like this lighter side of him, the one that isn’t so serious. The one who isn’t about death. The one who isn’t dangerous. “I just want to know something about you. Something real.”
“Then tell me something real about you, Hannah. That’s my price.”
“Okay.” I play with the bristles on his chin, distracting myself. “My mom killed herself.”
Surprise registers in his eyes. “That’s heavy.”
I look away. So much for keeping things light. “Yeah, well, it’s real. Now you tell me something.”
“Eugene,” he mutters.
My gaze snaps back to him. “What?”
“My name is Eugene Blue.”
I can’t help it—I laugh. It’s dangerous to laugh at a boy like this, one who’s killed, one who admits it without even looking guilty. But the corner of his lip turns up.
“Can I call you that?” I tease him.
He tries to look stern. “Not if you want me to answer.”
It’s a little piece of him, his name, something only for me. I nuzzle his chest, and he lifts my chin. His eyes are serious. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
I swallow hard. “Thanks.”
He leans forward, and his lips touch mine. He doesn’t move them or push his tongue inside. We stay like that, lips against lips, breath mingling.
When I pull back, he touches his forehead to mine.
“Why did you do it?” I whisper.
This time he doesn’t make me spell it out.
“Because he called me Eugene,” he says with a straight face.
It’s wrong, but I laugh. He is the only boy who makes me laugh. “For real though.”
His expression gets hard. “It’s real simple. The people outside—the judge and the jury. They don’t know what it’s like. It’s kill or be killed, and fuck if I’m going to let anyone touch me.”
My breath catches in my throat. I wish I had that kind of conviction.
I wish I had that kind of strength.
“Why aren’t you in jail?”
He shrugs. “I’m a minor and there were mitigating circumstances. That’s what they call it—mitigating circumstances.”
“Oh,” I say, not really understanding.
“They’d been kicking me around and it was documented by the caseworker. So it got labeled self-defense. I just have to keep my nose clean until I’m eighteen. Then I can get out of this shithole town. And I’m never coming back.”
Chapter Seven
He’s staring at me like he’s going to devour me when the knock comes. I jump at the sound, because it pounds through the wall to be heard over the steady din outside.
Blue mutters a curse and pushes away from me.
I immediately breathe in deep. Having him surround me, crowd me, had been stifling. Having him gone feels like a loss. Will I always feel this conflicted about him? Will I always want to push him away and then miss him when he’s gone?
Oscar says something to Blue that I can’t hear, but I get the message. People want to use the locker room, and it’s becoming a problem keeping them out.
I force myself to stand and straighten my clothes with as much dignity as I can find. Which isn’t much considering the red scrapes all over my breasts and probably my neck. My whole body feels stretched and twisted, set on fire and then left to burn.
It’s my Lola persona that smiles at Oscar over Blue’s shoulder and winks. “I was on my way out anyway. I think I got what I came for.”
Blue growls in his throat. “You’re not getting away that fucking easy.”
Oscar’s eyebrows rise. I know he hasn’t seen Blue talk to other girls like that. Blue wouldn’t tolerate a bouncer under his command treating one of us that way.
He makes an exception for me.
“Give me a couple more minutes,” Blue says.
Oscar looks doubtful. “Hey, man—”
Blue closes the door in his face. When he turns to me, his eyes have gone completely black. He’s like a panther as he prowls around me, pressing me back against the wall. “You think we’re done?”
“Yeah, I do.” It would have sounded better if my voice hadn’t been shaking.
“No, baby. Not even close. I didn’t get what I wanted all those years ago. Remember that? Remember waiting?”
Tears spring to my eyes, because I do remember waiting. I remember how respectful he was even while he was horny out of his mind. I remember how cherished he made me feel. Of course he didn’t know then that I’d already lost my virginity. That scared me more than anything back then. How was I going to explain to him that I’d already fucked a guy? How was I going to explain that I fucked any guy that I needed to, that would protect me, but that Blue was different?
It didn’t matter, because before we could have sex, he was already gone.
“I’m not that girl anymore.” My voice sounds rough, gritty. That’s how I feel inside—like dirt.
“No, you’re a woman now. But are you still a goddamn tease? Or are you going to give me what I’ve been waiting five fucking years for?”
Apprehension runs down my spine. “Is that why you came back? Is that why you’re working at the Grand, because I wouldn’t give it up to you all those years ago?”
He laughs softly. “Is your pussy that good?”
My pussy clenches like he invoked the goddamn devil just by saying her name. “That’s none of your business.”
“Oh, I think it is. I think you owe me a taste of that. I’ve been giving you time, letting you get used to the idea, but I’m done waiting. Especially when you came walking in here, in my place, when I’m already strung out and fucked-up and blue balled. It was either fight or fuck, and I’ve been fighting every Saturday night.” Those dark eyes meet mine. “Until now.”
“Blue,” I say, warning in my tone. Fear too.
“Next Saturday night, I’m not gonna be in the lineup. Instead I’m going to be at my place, trying out that pussy for the first time.”
I stare at him, somehow shocked. I hear men catcall me, hear them proposition me, hear them swear at me every night. No amount of dirty words can surprise me, but somehow hearing him promise to fuck me does just that.
“Say yes, baby.” His eyes are some kind of magic. I can’t look away. And I can’t say no.
Maybe this is what it will finally take to atone for
what I did. Maybe this is some kind of perverted redemption for me, a way to make him whole. Or maybe I’m just making excuses, because I don’t know what else to do. Years ago I’d find the strongest boy in school and let him fuck me for protection. Now the strongest boy is Blue and the strip club is my school—and the only man I need protection from is him.
“Last,” I say, my voice so gravelly I can barely make it out.
“What?”
“You said you’ll be trying my pussy for the first time. And it will be the last time too.”
A slow smile crosses his face. “We’ll see, gorgeous. We’ll just fucking see about that.”
* * *
I manage to get through my routine the same as always. The hoots from the men are just as loud. The tips are just as good. I keep up appearances because I’m too damn good at it.
Inside, I’m rattled.
When I exit the stage, I don’t even hit the floor. That’s where I can make the most money, but I head for the back. Maybe I’m a little freaked out after what happened in the VIP room last time. Or maybe I just don’t want to see Blue watching me, judging me, while other men paw at me.
My breasts bounce a little as I walk. I’m naked except for my G-string.
I should be comfortable this way. I’ve definitely walked this hallway naked many times before. Only this time I can’t help thinking about a certain man I’ve passed here before.
We’ll just fucking see about that.
A looming shadow appears before me, like something supernatural—only it’s no ghost that I bump into, bare breasts and all. I stumble, clumsy, and his hands reach out to steady me.
“Careful.” Blue.
It’s like I’ve summoned him just by thinking of him. He touches my arms, just my arms, but my skin gets goose bumps as if it’s more. My nipples harden into points. I cover them with my hands, somehow modest even though he would have just seen me onstage. He doesn’t release me, so I stand there, cupping my breasts, my arms held by his.
I’ve been fondled and spanked. I’ve been mauled in the goddamn VIP room. But this is the most intimate position I’ve been in for a long time. It’s the most intimate position I’ve been in since he last held me five years ago.
“I’m okay,” I say, my voice wobbling. Even then he takes his time releasing me. I stumble back against the wall. “I’ve been thinking about Saturday.”
“Me too, gorgeous,” he says, his voice low in the dark hallway. “It’s all I can think about.”
Shit. I’d been hoping it was some adrenaline-fueled fantasy, that he’d change his mind once we were back at the club. “I don’t think—”
“You’re not going to cancel on me, are you?”
The warning in his tone doesn’t give me much choice. Still I have to try. “It’s not a good idea to get involved with someone at work.”
He laughs. “We’re already involved.”
“Right, well.” I’m almost stammering—how does he do this to me? “This would be more involved. And Ivan wouldn’t like it.”
“Ivan doesn’t have to know.” He steps close, pressing me against the wall with his body, and I gasp. The concrete behind me is cool. His body is a furnace. “Besides, Ivan isn’t exactly focused on playing by the rules.”
“Maybe I like following rules.”
“That’s not the way I remember you.” He nuzzles my temple, almost the way an animal would scent another one. “I remember the wild girl I couldn’t get enough of.”
“That was me then. I was…troubled.”
“You’re working as a stripper. Most people would call that troubled.”
Hurt lashes me. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Oh, but you’re wrong. I know where you came from. I know what made you this way. I know why you like a man who’ll push you around a little.”
Shock and pain are like a cold fist around my heart. “How dare you bring my father into this.”
I hate that I ever told him. Honesty makes you vulnerable. Most foster kids would know never to share that kind of information. They’d know not to make themselves weak. But I’d lost myself when it came to Blue. I told him about my father, a member of a local MC gang and all around lowlife. He’d got himself locked up after an armed robbery. Things didn’t go much better for him after getting locked up. He got into fight after fight, ending up hospitalized more than not.
And my mother—she hadn’t been able to handle life without him.
Blue leans close. “Am I wrong?”
It makes too much sense to be wrong. It’s sick if I’ve been seeking out men like my father—common criminals and assholes alike. Sometimes I feel sick.
And sometimes I feel like pushing back. “Are you proud to be like him?” I ask. “A fucking criminal? He rotted in that jail cell until someone stuck a shiv in him. Is that what you are?”
He pulls back enough to let me breathe. I can tell I’ve shocked him.
No shock comes through his voice. He speaks in a lazy drawl. “No, sweetheart. As hard as you tried to get me locked up, it didn’t work.”
I never wanted him locked up. “You enlisted.”
I hadn’t known where he’d gone then, but I recognized the military bearing when he showed up again.
“They didn’t know what to do with me, so they shoved a gun in my hand and shipped me overseas. That’s kind of like what you did to me, isn’t it? I guess you were both hoping I’d get myself killed. That I wouldn’t come back.”
I love and hate that he came back. “Blue, I’m—”
“Saturday. No backing out.” He stalks off before I can answer.
It’s probably for the best that he interrupted. For the best that he left. I was about to say I’m sorry.
Chapter Eight
“Sugar?”
Honor shakes her head. “None for me.”
Mrs. Owens smiles vaguely. I think she’s already forgotten the question she asked.
I pour from the china teapot with the chipped lid. It’s a beautiful piece. Maybe it would even be worth some money—money that we desperately need. I couldn’t do that to Mrs. Owens, though. She’s so proud of them. They’re her one indulgence, the one thing she remembers every day.
Sometimes she doesn’t even remember who I am.
“Were these passed down to you?” Honor asks.
Mrs. Owens stares into space.
I answer for her, hoping the words will bring her back to the present. “These came from an estate sale thirty years ago. That’s where she got most of her sets. She used to check the obituaries to see if someone rich had died so she could get the best stuff.”
“How mercenary,” Honor says. “I approve. And the china is beautiful.”
Mrs. Owens doesn’t even blink.
I’m losing her. I feel her drifting farther away every day. That’s bad enough, but I worry about her safety when I’m gone. I unplug the stove, taking away her only comfort—her ability to make tea. But I worry that she’ll figure out how to squeeze back there to plug it back in. I worry that she’ll find some other way to light a fire in the cooktop.
I worry that she’ll wander down the street and never come back.
“How are you two doing?” Honor asks softly, breaking me from my reverie.
“I don’t know. Some days it’s just like before, when I was a kid. They were the best six months of my childhood.” Except for my time with Blue.
“And other days?”
“Other days I know she needs to be in a facility with nurses who can care for her around the clock. Who have locks on the doors and a button to press if she needs something.”
Sympathy is clear on Honor’s face. “Can I help? I have some money saved up from the Grand.” Her mouth twists in a wry smile. “Kip still refuses to let me help pay the bills with it. I think he’d rather burn it.”
A few months ago she was just like me, stripping and struggling to get by. After she met Kip, things changed quickly. Her past caught up to her—a
nd Kip was there to protect her. She was there to protect him too. Since then they’ve been living together in his home.
“Oh hell no,” I say. “You worked your ass for that.”
She laughs. “Literally. I’ve gained a size since I stopped dancing.”
“Well, you look fabulous.” It’s not a lie. She’s practically glowing. It could just be general happiness—or maybe a kind of sex glow, since I know how much Kip was into her. Her stomach still seems pretty flat, but I wonder if there is another cause for that happy glow.
Her shoulder lifts. “Well, it’s just sitting there, so if you needed…”
I make a face. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think so. I looked into a few places, and the costs are just crazy. I could work at the Grand every night for a year and just cover the cost of a month.”
“Damn.” She glances at Mrs. Owens, who seems to have drifted off to sleep. “And she didn’t…”
Have savings, she means. “Just the house, which she owns. But it was in major disrepair when I found her again and moved in. I’ve been fixing things up when I can and keeping up with the bills, but that’s about it.”
I’ve been drowning, that’s what I mean to say.
From the sober look on Honor’s face, she knows it. Her next words come out slow and careful. “What about Blue?”
Alertness zings through my body, just like every time I hear his name. “What about him?”
“It seemed like you two had a thing.”
My laugh is hollow. “Yeah, I guess you could say we had a thing. A long time ago.”
“Oh.” Her gaze hits the table before meeting mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing really to talk about. I ruin everything good I ever have. Which was really only him. He was the only good thing I had, and I broke him.”
Her eyes fill with concern. “He doesn’t seem broken to me.”
“Not anymore.” I remember how he looked the last day I saw him five years ago. Hurt, angry. Like a man vowing revenge. I had a feeling he’d be getting that someday soon.
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