by M. S. Parker
Now, I just needed to focus on having fun tonight, enjoying our evening and, for the love of god, trying to decide what I was going to wear. I panicked momentarily, once again feeling like a fish out of water. Alize was a rich man’s restaurant, with dress codes and certain expectations.
When you're on my kind of income, wardrobe choices for dressy events are rather limited. I didn't want to wear the dress from the wedding or what I'd worn to meet Brock's parents since he'd already seen both of those outfits before. I wasn't sure he'd remember, or even care, but I wanted something different. That left the dress Anastascia had bought me for the reunion.
I knew I looked good in it, but it brought back memories of Reed. Was that really something I wanted to have in my head while I was out with Brock? Then again, I reasoned, what better way to no longer associate the outfit with Reed than to wear it again. Give it a fresh start so to speak.
My decision made, I headed off to the kitchen to grab something to eat before I started getting ready. I didn't just want to look okay tonight. I wanted to look so good that Brock would go out of his way to make sure he never acted like that again.
It took me most of the afternoon to prepare. Waxing is time-consuming and not very fun, especially when you have to do it yourself because you're too poor to have it done by a professional. But every rip was worth it.
Then there was all the other enjoyable stuff that men completely take for granted like eyebrow tweezing and taking care of finger and toe nails. I was usually pretty meticulous thanks to my job, but I went above and beyond for tonight. So much so that when I stepped out of the taxi at Alize's, I was rewarded with two completely stunned expressions.
“I'll take that as a compliment.” I smiled at them both as I wrapped my arm around Brock's.
“Where did you get that dress?” Brock finally asked.
“My friend bought it for me for my high school reunion.”
Brock laughed. “I'll bet Rebecca about had a fit when she saw you in it. You're gorgeous.”
I flushed, pleased with his compliment. Julien didn't say anything but a glance told me he was thinking along the same lines. The three of us went inside and I could feel eyes on us as we went. For once, I didn't feel like the attention was focused on everyone around me, but rather that I was at the center of it, flanked by two gorgeous guys in expensive, well-cut suits.
Alize was absolutely amazing. The view of the city through the massive glass walls was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Even the view from the boys' penthouse wasn't this impressive.
Brock ordered wine for all of us and, for a moment I was worried. Then he grinned at me.
“I'll take it easy, I promise. No repeats.”
True to his word, he didn't drink more than a glass through the whole meal. And what a meal it was. I'd never really considered myself a fan of French food, but every single thing we ordered was scrumptious. I almost didn't have room for dessert but when Brock insisted that we all try the chocolate truffles, I had to agree.
As we waited for the final course to be delivered, the topic of conversation shifted to Britni's wedding, which Julien had missed. I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat as I waited for Brock to share about my involvement in Reed's bachelor party. Instead, he glossed over that part of the night and made it sound like the two of us had met during one of his visits to The Diamond Club. It wasn't like Julien didn't know I was a stripper, but I didn't want Brock to talk about the bachelor party and how I passed out and ended up staying the night. I still didn’t remember all that happened that evening but it wasn’t something I wanted to relive.
“So everything's going well for Britni and Reed?” I hoped my voice didn't sound as falsely bright to the guys as it did to me.
Brock nodded as the waiter set the truffles in the center of the table. He picked one up and held it out to me and I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Wasn't your boyfriend feeding you supposed to be all sweet and romantic or something? I'd never really gotten that. For me, it always sounded awkward, and now it felt that way too.
My eyebrows shot up as the chocolate melted on my tongue and I moaned, leaning to savor the flavor before sipping from my water. Brock gave me the rest of the piece which was as mouthwatering as the first before answering my question.
“Yeah, they're doing great. A little on edge because of the whole heir clause thing, but that's not really a surprise.” Brock popped a truffle into his mouth as Julien helped himself to a second one.
“The what clause?” I asked. I didn't really want to hear more about their farce of a marriage, but I was curious.
“The heir clause.” Brock glanced at Julien who looked just as confused as I was. “Wow, I thought everyone knew about this.”
“Why don't fill us in?” Julien asked.
“Well, you know how there was this business deal that went along the marriage?” Brock looked from me to Julien. I took my cue from Julien and feigned ignorance. I didn't want Brock wondering where I'd heard it if Julien didn't know. “Anyway, it's a common thing. Families bound in marriage also make business contracts tying everyone together.” He shook his head. “Don't ask me. I don't get it.” He ate another truffle. “So, Britni and Reed's marriage also joined some of the Stirlings assets to my family's assets.”
“Still not getting the whole 'heir clause,'” Julien said.
Unfortunately, I was beginning to think that I did understand.
“Basically, the clause states that they need to have at least one pregnancy in their first year of marriage, and a baby within three.”
“Are you shitting me?”
I was glad Julien said something that drew Brock's attention because I was having a difficult time keeping my expression blank. A forced pregnancy, I’d never heard of such thing. Not in the twenty-first century anyway.
Brock shrugged. “The Stirlings put it in actually. Something about making sure their name was carried on, since Rebecca's a girl and obviously will take her husband's name. I guess Mr. Stirling is the last one in his family line or something like that.”
“So Britni and Reed...”
“Fucking like bunnies would be my guess.” Brock made a face.
I really hadn't wanted to hear that, and I certainly didn't want to be thinking about Reed and Britni having sex. I reached for my wine, tipped it up and drained the glass. Brock didn't notice, but Julien gave me a puzzled look. I didn't mind. I was more concerned with getting those images out of my head.
Reed's body moving over hers.
Her riding him.
His face between her legs.
Her name on his lips when he came.
“Piper?” Brock touched my arm.
“Hm?”
“You okay?”
I nodded and forced a smile. “Fine. I was just thinking about how delicious the food was.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
He grinned. “And the night's just getting started.” He slapped Julien on the back. “We need to get my friend here some action. Let's hit a club.”
“Please tell me you mean a dance club,” Julien said.
“Hell no.” Brock laughed. “One of the best things about Vegas is their strip joints.” He glanced at me. “We'll head to Ruby's.”
Ruby's was one of the high-end strip clubs. They catered to high rollers, rich guys like Brock, but they revealed as much as The Diamond Club strippers did. Basically, the only difference was how expensive the dances were and the fact that the guys used fifties and hundreds instead of ones and fives. I really didn't want to go, but I couldn't think of an excuse that didn't sound like I was whining so I kept my fake smile plastered across my face and nodded in agreement. If I was lucky, maybe Brock would think I was bored and we would go somewhere else. At least I wasn't alone in not wanting to go. One look at Julien's face said that he was humoring his friend just as much as I was.
Chapter 6
I'd been in Ruby's once before, but that had been to drop off my application. I'd figur
ed if I was going to take my clothes off, at least I could make decent money doing it. When I'd given it to the busty blonde at the front, she'd given me a quick once over, a polite smile and informed me that she'd file the application but not to hold my breath for a call. Apparently, the girls at Ruby's had to be at least a 36C to be considered. I didn't quite make that cut.
I could feel heat creeping up my cheeks the moment we walked in and I was thankful that the lighting was dim in the audience. Brock was close enough that he would've seen my skin turning red if he'd been looking at me, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the brunette currently gyrating on stage.
We made our way over to a pair of armchairs on the far side of the stage. Brock immediately sat down but Julien gestured toward the other, offering it to me.
“Come here, babe.” Brock tugged me towards him and I gave Julien a smile to let him know that I appreciated the offer.
I sat on Brock's lap, leaning back against him as he wrapped his arm around my waist. I wasn't enjoying the show, but even when I was annoyed at Brock, my body responded to his affections. The heat from his arm burned through my dress, spreading warmth across my skin.
I glanced over at Julien and saw him looking at me. He gave me an awkward smile and then turned back to the stage where the brunette was down to her g-string. I couldn't say for sure, but it looked to me like Julien wasn't enjoying the show as much as most men would be. Then a thought occurred to me and I took another peak at him to see if it could possibly be true. Maybe the reason the whole threesome thing had freaked him out hadn't been embarrassment on my behalf but was rather because Julien was gay and no one knew.
When the next act came onstage, I found myself watching him out of the corner of my eye. A couple times, he looked my way and I wondered if he wasn't looking at me but rather at Brock. It would make sense that he'd stay in the closet. As 'open-minded' as some of the wealthy families claimed to be, I doubted they'd approve of a gay son. It might have even been the reasoning behind his black sheep reputation. Better to be the rebel child.
I was still contemplating my theory when Brock flagged one of the dancers to come over. She was a red-head, like me, but the resemblance stopped there. She was a good four inches taller and top-heavy. Based on the rest of her build, there was no way those things were natural, but they still seemed to mesmerize Brock and the other men.
“A dance for my friend,” Brock called out over the music.
Julien turned pale and he shot me a look of horror.
“Brock, come on,” I spoke quietly in my boyfriend's ear. “I don't think he wants a dance.”
“Of course he wants a dance,” Brock said, not bothering to keep his voice down. He dug into his pocket and pulled out several folded up bills. “Here you go, sweet thing. Make my buddy here happy.”
Based on the woman's smile, I was pretty sure Brock had given her at least twice her normal rate. When she began to move, Julien's entire body tensed. His eyes were on her, but he didn't appear to be enjoying himself. The closer she got to him, the more uncomfortable he looked.
“Get up close and personal with that rack, Julien,” Brock teased. “Those things probably cost a pretty penny.”
The red-head ran her hands over her breasts as she leaned over Julien, her pale nipples brushing against his lips. I was just about to intervene when I saw Julien reach down and adjust himself. Apparently he was enjoying the show. When his eyes darted over to me, I could see guilt in them and understood. Julien wasn't gay. He was trying to be a gentleman. He knew I didn't want to be here and he felt bad that he liked what was going on. I gave him a small smile, hoping he'd take that as permission to enjoy himself. If Brock had already spent the money, Julien might as well have some fun.
The stripper straddled Julien's lap and began grinding down on him. Her mouth was moving and I wondered what she was saying to him. The music was too loud for me to hear any of it.
“You don't really get to see it from this side, do you?” Brock asked, his mouth against my ear. The hand on my waist slid a bit higher until his fingers were brushing the underside of my breast.
I shifted away from his hand on the pretense of answering his question. “Not really. I don't go out and watch the other girls dance.”
“I liked watching you dance with Rosa at the bachelor party.” One of Brock's hands settled on my knee.
I flushed at the memory. I'd been pissed at Reed and had taken things further than I usually did. Rosa and I hadn't kissed and we'd kept our hands above the waist, but we'd done a little touching.
“I kept wishing you guys would take it further,” Brock confessed.
I could feel him hardening against my ass. The hand on my knee slid up my thigh.
“You have an amazing body and I'd love to see it with another woman.” He pressed his mouth against my throat and I felt a chaste kiss turn into something open and wet. When he started to suck, I turned so that our lips were just a few centimeters apart.
“No hickeys. I have to work tomorrow.”
He nodded, but I saw something dark in his eyes. He didn't like being told he couldn't do something. He cupped the back of my head and pulled me toward him. His tongue pushed between my lips, and his lips were hard and demanding against mine. I leaned into the kiss, not minding the bit of PDA considering where we were.
Then the hand on my hip moved up to my breast. I kept kissing him as I removed his hand, putting it back on my leg. His fingers flexed against my thigh and started to move higher, inching under my skirt.
That was it.
I pulled back, glaring at him and I shoved his hand away. “We're in public, Brock.”
“Look around, Piper.” He gestured towards Julien. The red-head was grinding on his lap. “Doesn't seem fair that I came to a strip club and can't get even a little action.”
I climbed off of him, hands clenching into fists. “I'm not letting you feel me up because you decided you wanted to bring your girlfriend to a strip club with you.”
He stood, holding his hands up, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, fine.” He reached for my hand. “We can take this back to my room.” His eyes flicked over to the red-head who was finishing up her dance. “Let me see if she wants to come too.”
For a few seconds, I actually thought he was thinking of Julien and wanting his friend to have a good time. Then Brock spoke again.
“You two can dance for me and Julien.” He pulled me against him. “Get us all worked up and ready for what comes next.”
I took a step back, distancing myself from him. “I just want to go home. Alone.”
Anger flashed across his eyes. “You have to be joking. After all I've done–”
“You're going to want to stop there.” Julien was suddenly up and standing between us. “Don't say something you'll regret.”
Brock opened his mouth and Julien grabbed his friend's arm.
“Trust me, man. You wanna shut up right now.”
I couldn't see Julien's face, but there must have been something in it because Brock backed down.
“Fine.” He glared at me. “Let's go.”
Julien walked with me toward the exit while Brock strode on ahead, not even bothering to look back to see if we were following. My stomach was in knots, tightening with each step I took. I'd excused Brock's behavior on Saturday because he was drunk. Tonight, he'd had a single glass of wine. Was something wrong or was this how Brock really was? Had the guy I liked been just a mask?
I continued to think about it on the taxi ride back to my apartment. Julien and Brock had taken another cab back to the hotel. Brock hadn't even said good-bye. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window. The cool glass felt nice against my overheated skin.
Did I make a terrible mistake accepting that first date?
Chapter 7
I stared up at my bedroom ceiling, debating whether or not I was going to do what I wanted to do. Well, part of me wanted to do it. The other part kept saying that making the call m
eant giving in, admitting that I'd been wrong.
But I had been wrong, hadn't I? The claims I'd made, the righteous indignation about a comment that had truly been innocent. All of that had been based on my certainty that I was right.
Now, I wasn't so sure. Growing up, I'd had to rely on myself a great deal, and after my mom got sick, that self-reliance had only increased. After her death, I'd made all the decisions on my own, and any of them that didn't seem to end well, I'd talked myself into believing they'd still been the right things to do. Moving to Vegas was a perfect example of that. I'd made the choice, thinking that it was the best way to rid myself of painful memories and give myself a new start. When I'd discovered that the grass in Los Vegas was just as brown and dry as it was in Philadelphia, I didn't consider moving back or even moving somewhere else. The stubborn streak that had kept me moving at St. George dug in and I told myself that I was building character, that every artist had to pay their dues. All sounded like good reasons, but I knew they were lies.
Now I needed to know if I was lying to myself about Brock. Was he just another bad decision that I was justifying? I needed to talk to someone and with my mom gone, there was only one person I trusted enough to ask the tough questions.
And it was time I apologized to her.
I picked up my phone. It was two-thirty here, which meant Anastascia would've gotten home from work a couple minutes ago. I tapped her number on speed dial and listened to it ring. She answered on the second one.
“Piper,” her voice was cool and cautious, but not forbidding.
“I'm sorry, Ana.” I knew those words had to be said first. “I know you didn't mean those words how I took them.”
“I meant the ones about Brock.” Her tone had warmed, but she still sounded wary.
“I know,” I said. “But that's you looking out for me. I knew that all along. I just didn't want to hear it, so I used your comment about social circles to pick a fight.”
“It's forgotten,” she said, and I knew it was. We didn't hold grudges. “So, tell me what's been going on since we last talked.”
