Dirty Secrets

by Landish, Lauren

  I know he’s a good man at heart and I’m happy to exploit that. That I would invoke his military experience will surely irk him but pique his interest as well.

  He growls so softly he probably thinks I didn’t hear him. “I’m listening.”

  Victory. So sweet sometimes. “I know of a man, a fellow soldier, who has recently come to town.”

  “Yeah, so? Lots of vets in town.”

  I hum, nodding to myself. “True . . . but this one, like you, has seen the horrors of a wartime environment. And when he came back, he was hit with another deep wound. His woman was unfaithful and there’s the resulting emotional turmoil from that. While your emotional scars are not the same, I believe you can commiserate.”

  Zallow sighs. “And you’re telling me this why?”

  “He’s at Harry’s, down the street from you,” I explain. “And I believe he may be contemplating . . . an unwise course of action. One that I do not want to see him undertake. If it were up to me, I would be happiest if this man were to finish his leave and next month report for duty. And so I thought that perhaps you and Mr. Chambers would like to have a beer with a fellow soldier in his time of need. Keep him busy so that no harm befalls him.”

  “What are you, the soldier suicide prevention hotline now?” Zallow asks, his gallows sarcasm oddly endearing.

  But I don’t let on. “Have a friendly drink with him. That’s all I ask, though I may check in to see how the friendship is progressing to make sure he is okay. I would truly hate for my hand to be forced in this matter.”

  I let the implied threat dangle, knowing that I wouldn’t hurt TJ, but Rob Zallow knows nothing of the sort. Whatever bonds of esprit de corps that remain in his heart tip the scales for him, and he relents.

  “Fine. I’m feeling like a beer anyway. But it’s on your tab.”

  His little jab does make me chuckle. It is too bad the man doesn’t work for me. He’s entertaining. “Very well, Mr. Zallow. That can easily be arranged.”

  I click End on the call, placing one more. The crackle of the open line sounds for a moment before I hear an old, nicotine-roughened voice.

  “Harry’s.”

  “Hello, Harry. This is Dominick Angeline. I have a couple of friends coming in soon, most likely on motorcycles. If they are respectful, please quietly let their drinks be on my tab.”

  Harry’s been wise to the game for decades and is unflappable. “Sure thing.”

  I spend the next few hours watching Allie putter around her apartment. She cleaned up the mess left from our dinner, placing the leftovers into her refrigerator, though I suspect she won’t eat the heavy pasta again since she barely picked at it.

  I wonder if it’s TJ’s favorite? Or perhaps because she wanted to find a happy medium between my heritage and her cooking skills? TJ didn’t say much, but he’d dug in with gusto until things had started to verbally go awry.

  She’d done her usual nightly routine of stretching in her converted dining space. The first time I’d seen her stretching that way, I’d thought she was preparing to dance, but she’d merely worked through every muscle, getting long and loose, and then retiring to the shower before falling into bed. It seems to be meditative for her, and it’s become a comforting routine for me as well, giving me time to appreciate the work she puts into her craft but also letting me study the long lines of her sexy body. And now she’s sleeping in the mess of blankets and pillows on her bed.

  Knowing she’s safe, I decide to get some work done and head to Petals to check in for the night.

  Things are well at the club, a quiet evening with no complaints from anyone. I’m halfway through my paperwork when I look up and see it’s nearly two in the morning and time for Harry’s last call. Pulling out my phone, I make another call, this time waiting three rings before it’s picked up.

  “Hello?” the deep voice says, relaxed but not drunkenly slurred.

  “How was your evening?”

  Zallow sighs, pissed. “If you know my damn number, why’d you call the house and get Myra all freaked out?”

  I don’t answer him because he already knows the weight his woman’s word carries with him, and now he’s even more aware that I know it too.

  Finally, he answers my question. “My evening was fine. Met your guy, TJ. We talked tours and shit mostly. Seemed well enough. Not suicidal or any shit like that, just down about his wife. So why the drama and ruse?”

  I choose to ignore the inquiry. I may know my opponent’s moves, but revealing my own is not a habit I engage in often.

  “And your next engagement?”

  Robert clicks his tongue. “Tony made plans with him to grab a bite to eat later this week. Tony thought it’d be good for TJ to see some fresh ass even if it was just in fun.”

  “Very good.”

  “Look, it’s none of my business, and I probably don’t want it to be, but what’s up with this guy?” Zallow asks me. “He doesn’t seem like your business type.”

  “Perhaps I’m just looking out for him,” I reply. “Like a guardian angel.”

  Zallow chuckles darkly. “You’re no angel. You’re the fucking devil incarnate, Angeline.”

  “Indeed.”

  I hang up before Zallow can question me any further.

  Chapter 17

  Allie

  “Oh, my gosh, you’re the worst, Eileen! I’m trying to convince my brother that I’m an upstanding, moral woman with discriminating taste. You are not helping my cause!” I say laughingly as Eileen tells TJ the story of how I’d once suggested an open bar at the parents’ recital as a fundraiser.

  Donna had been aghast at the impropriety, Eileen had outright laughed, and I still don’t see what the big deal is. People might balk at first, but by the time the third group of beginner ballet starts and you’ve already seen endless renditions of Zippidy Doo Dah or Waltz of the Flowers, half of the parents are ready to run for the nearest bottle of whatever they can find. And with the premium prices we could charge for some pinot noir, I’m pretty sure the studio would have made a serious, serious profit.

  TJ laughs, though, unsurprised. “That’s my sis, the immoral majority.”

  I like that he’s teasing me and hanging out without too much weirdness. After dinner with Dom, I was worried. “Come on, Teej, help me get ready for tonight. I’m putting you to work, and not just your mouth.”

  “Haven’t had any complaints yet,” he says, a joke we’ve had since all the way back to his high school days, but before I can toss back the standard reply of That’s what she said, his face sours.

  Shit, he just remembered Janine. I’m sure like a lot of trauma, it hits him at odd times. I’m worried about TJ, especially after the whole drama of dinner the other night.

  But we had a good talk, and we both apologized a bunch of times, explaining ourselves a bit more rationally and calmly. There were hugs and tears, mostly on my part, though I’d swear I saw some shininess to his tough-guy eyes too. Now he seems to be trying to move on, so I am too. He’s my brother and he’s hurting, so I’m going to cut him some slack.

  He has done the same for me, putting up with some serious shit when I wasn’t in a good head space before, angry about my lost ballet career and my body’s betrayal. But he took it and loved me through it, letting the sharp barbs I’d thrown bounce off because he knew it wasn’t really about him. It’d been about my pain back then. And now, it seems it’s my turn to return the favor and be the unflinching support he needs.

  That’s what you do for family.

  So we hang out together in Studio Three, me getting some ripped-up T-shirts before we start cleaning the poles like I’d intended the day TJ showed up. It’s even a good time as I work a little bit of fun into my cleaning, buffing each brass pole to a gleaming shine, climbing higher and higher to get the top section before taking one long drop to the floor for a final buff.

  TJ, who’s been cleaning a pole in a much more traditional fashion, turns as he sees me in the mirror, his jaw dr
opping. “What the hell, Allie? I didn’t know you could do that!”

  I spin on the floor before rolling to my feet and grinning. I love drops. “What? Slide down the pole? We have talked about what I do, you know.”

  He shakes his head, rubbing at his cheek. “I know, I just didn’t realize . . . I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever pictured you doing that.”

  I smile, understanding that because the thought of my brother doing anything sexual is a mental peanut butter and Drano sandwich to me. I just don’t do it. I’m well aware he’s a grown man and has a sex life, but I don’t need to know anything about it.

  “You wanna see?” I ask, looking at the pole next to me. “Not the whole stage routine, but I can show you some of my tricks.”

  He’s unsure, terror and discomfort written all over his face.

  I laugh. “Seriously, it’s not gonna be bad. Watch.”

  Before TJ can answer, I walk around the pole, skipping the hip sway to just gather momentum. With a thrilling whoosh, I flip upside down, letting my legs stretch tall along the pole and my arms splaying wide in a T as I spin.

  I laugh at my upside-down vantage of TJ’s open-mouthed surprise. He plops down, leaning back against the mirror while I do a few more tricks before finishing in my favorite head-first hands-free death drop into a back walk-over off the pole, finishing with the splits.

  “Ta-da” I say, grinning and waving jazz hands out wide.

  TJ claps, at first in total awe before speeding up. He was always my biggest fan, at least before when it was ballet. “Wow, Allie-gator. That was . . . you are . . . wow.”

  Getting up, I do a silly curtsy, holding out an imaginary skirt and smiling. “Thank you.”

  We both laugh as I sink to the floor beside him, and it feels right between us again for a moment, like we’re still those same kids who stayed up late watching movies and annoying Dad with our feigned confusion when he’d tell bad jokes.

  “So, what’d you think?”

  TJ shakes his head. “I about lost my lunch when you took a dive toward the floor. I thought for sure I was gonna be mopping up your brains and having to tell Mom that I watched while you fell on your head. Not that I haven’t done that before.”

  I mime holding a phone up to my ear, “Hey, Mom, TJ just let me plummet to my death and didn’t even try to stop me.” I let all the child-like whine I can muster into my voice to sell it.

  He grins, a genuine happy smile, and it feels good to have this moment with him, no Janine, no Dominick, no awkwardness after the fight.

  He sobers slightly, “Allie, you’re really good. I didn’t realize you could do all that.” He bites his lip like he’s looking for words. “I don’t want to see you dressed for work, but I could watch you do that all day. It’s like you took all your ballet, added some gymnastics to it, and then went vertical. Oh, and decided to add spins just for shits and giggles because why the hell not?”

  I glance at the pole, agreeing. “That’s pretty much the theory.”

  He clears his throat and strokes at his chin. “Will you tell me about the club? I want to understand.”

  I look into his eyes, searching for any ill intent, but it seems like he’s almost trying to be supportive, accepting. “I’ve been there for a while now. It’ll sound weird, but it’s a good place. Dominick makes sure it’s clean and safe, and the staff there are good people. I’ve made friends, almost a family of sorts there. We look out for each other. It’s just lingerie, although the outfits are . . . you’re right, you don’t want to watch. But it’s okay. I’m comfortable with it now, just another costume, you know? And I make really good money. I’ve already paid off over half of my treatment center bills. You know there’s no other way I could’ve done that, and Mom and Dad shouldn’t have to.”

  “It really does seem like you love it, but I can’t help but feel like I failed you or something. I didn’t realize back then how dire things had gotten for you, and you’re still dealing with the fallout of that financially. I feel like I should’ve given you my enlistment bonus or been sending you my deployment bonuses to make it easier for you to move on. It’s not like Janine needed it.”

  We’re in dangerous territory again, and I hurry to steer the subject back to safe territory, not wanting to test the tenuous truce we’ve called.

  “Just that you’re making the offer says a lot about you, TJ. You supported me through all my years of dance and all my years of recovery. I’m at a good place now, healthy and financially independent. And dancing. I thought I would never get to dance again, but I get to dance every day. Here,” I say, gesturing around us at the studio, “and at the club. I won’t be there forever. I’m already stepping back and doing just features instead of weekly shows. But I get to dance, TJ. Maybe it’s not how I always dreamed, but I get to dance.”

  He nods, but I can see there’s still hesitation in his eyes. But he’s trying and that means a lot to me.

  He’s known about my job at Petals, but it was always sort of surface, cerebral but not in his face. I think being here, it’s gotten a lot more real, and it’s hitting him harder than either of us expected.

  I can understand that because I can’t say I was ecstatic about his joining the Army when he told me he was enlisting. I wanted him to go to college, maybe find a frat he could act like an idiot with some before landing a six-figure job. Kind of the stereotypical high-school senior dream. But nope, he just decided to do his own thing, and I was terrified he was never going to come home again, or even if he did, that he’d be so different that I wouldn’t recognize him.

  But I’ve mostly gotten over myself and my fears and supported the hell out of him while he was serving, sending care packages and letters every chance I could. That’s what family is supposed to do, support you the best they can even when they don’t necessarily agree with what you’re choosing. And he is different, but not in the way I’d feared. He’s harder, stronger, and more cynical, but he’s still my Teej under the tough shell.

  “Okay, Allie-gator. I’m gonna do my best to support you, just like I always have. But from afar. I’m not coming to the club to cheer for you like a recital.”

  I feign shock, letting my jaw drop dramatically. “You’d better not. I remember how you were! Clapping the loudest and the longest like it was an audience participation competition. It’d be hella awkward for you to do that at Petals. Though some of the girls would probably love to meet you.”

  His smile falters, and I realize it sounded like I was going to set him up with one of my friends. “I didn’t mean . . .”

  “I . . . can’t,” TJ says, babbling a little over me. He takes a deep breath and looks at me carefully. “Look, I don’t want to talk about her and all that shit right now. How about you tell me more about Dominick instead?”

  He’s trying to sound casual, but a warning siren starts going off after the disaster we had at dinner. I try to think positive, though, because TJ is asking, maybe open to understanding from my point of view, even if he and Dom are never going to be best buddies.

  Even still, I double-check. “You sure?”

  He lets out a dramatic sigh and shrugs. “If you’re hanging out with him, I want to know more. I didn’t think you’d be with . . . a guy like that.”

  Okay, so not exactly open-minded, but baby steps. I try to gather my thoughts. “We met at Petals. He owns the club and a bunch of other businesses.”

  I choose my words carefully because as far as I know, TJ doesn’t know the full story of who Dominick is. And if he’s struggling to accept the little things like his owning a club, the bigger stuff like his being The Boss is a definite no-go.

  “He said that at dinner too,” TJ says warily. “How many businesses? Which ones?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply evenly. “We don’t really talk business.”

  TJ raises a brow but nods, letting it go for the moment, and I continue. “We made eyes at each other for months, so much that the other girls would tease me about it. But
he was a total professional until I came in and asked to stop being an employee because of my stuff here.”

  “Then he asked you out?”

  I think back and laugh. “Well, not exactly, but we did have dinner that night. It was the start of something more for us.”

  TJ hums darkly. “Is that when the guard dogs start following you around?”

  I see where he’s going, and I set my hand on TJ’s shoulder, trying to relieve his worries. “It’s not like that. The guys had been following me for a while before then. There was some drama at the club a while back, nothing to do with me, but I got caught up in it and Dom started having his guys check in on me. It was a bit awkward when I realized what was going on, but while Dom’s not a classical romantic. His heart was in the right place. He wanted me safe. They tried to stay invisible, but when I found out, we decided to just be open about the whole thing. So now I know which guy is my detail for the day and we’re friends. It’s just a nice thing he does, and it gives him peace of mind to know I’m protected.”

  “But they’re his employees, his guys, so their loyalty is to him,” TJ says carefully. “You have no privacy, no say-so, and you’re just giving that up willingly?”

  “Sounds like your life in the military,” I counter but then answer him honestly. “I’m not doing anything sneaky, so I don’t see the big deal.” I shrug. “Really, who cares?”

  “Do you know where he is every second of every day?” TJ asks a little more forcefully. “Do you have a team of guards reporting to you about his whereabouts? Or is that just one-sided?”

  I blink, remembering when Dom had said that’d be potentially dangerous information for me. “I don’t know where he is 24/7, but I don’t need to. I trust him. He’s good to me, TJ.”

  TJ snorts derisively. “Sugar daddies usually are. Are you sure he’s not sleeping with the other girls at the club too?”

  His words are venomous, poison, and my palms itch to slap the shit out of him. Instead, I settle for smacking him in the shoulder and getting up to pace. “Fuck you, TJ. Dom’s not that kind. He understands fucking loyalty.”