by Sarah Bale
“You’re entitled to your opinions, Olivia. But that doesn’t change the fact that I want you gone. Don’t come by the clubhouse anymore. Don’t come here. Don’t even try to contact us.”
Several emotions flash across her face, but I don’t miss the fire in her eyes.
“Fine. I won’t.” She turns to Arizona. “Sorry for involving you in this. I’ll change and get out of here.”
She shoves past me and I get a whiff of her perfume. God. It’s crazy how one scent can bring back so many memories. I want to reach out for her, but I don’t. Instead, I motion for the security guards to follow her.
When they’re gone, Arizona says, “Saint, I’m so sorry. I had no idea she knew you or had a motive in applying for a job. It won’t happen again.”
Arizona is damn good at her job, and I won’t hold this against her. But I’m going to make sure Olivia doesn’t pull a stunt like this again. Because the look in her eyes makes me thinks she’s got something else up her sleeves.
“Put a call out to the other clubs in the area and let them know she’s not to work for them. If she steps one foot into their clubs, they’re to call me.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
I grab the books from the desk and leave. With each step that I take, I fight the urge to go back to Olivia and bring her back with me. But she’s better off without us. So, I go outside and get the hell out of there.
5
Olivia
Dr. Cross looks over her glasses at me. “So you went to work at a strip club to get their attention?”
We’re an hour into this session and I’ve finally told her all about them. How I went undercover with the FBI to bust them. How I fell in love with them. How I tried to help save the club. How I was shot in the process. And now how I’m still trying to get them to see me.
“Yes.”
“And how did you come to this conclusion?”
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Jas said it would be a way to get their attention. And it did.”
“But is that the type of attention you want or deserve?”
“I’m really not sure. I mean, I definitely got a reaction out of Saint.”
She taps the notepad in her lap. “I think you deserve a man – or men – who see your worth without you having to chase after them.”
“I don’t know, Dr. Cross. I mean, I lied to them. Even I can admit that it makes things complicated.”
“You said Saint said he was letting you go so you didn’t get hurt. Do you believe him?”
“I think that’s what he believes.”
She shifts. “Okay. Let’s think about this from another angle. How long have you known Saint?”
“Almost four months.”
But who’s counting, right?
“You mentioned that while you were undercover you discovered he had a wife who passed away.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe he feels like he has to send you away because of what happened to her. Do you know how she passed?”
I shake my head.
She goes on, “A few months is nothing in the grand scheme of a relationship. While I can’t speak to what his motives are, I think you should look at yours.”
I’m the one who shifts this time, fearing this is where she’s going to say it’s my fault.
“Your relationship with all four men began with a lie, as you said yourself. I recommend writing them each a letter, telling them how you feel and why you did what you did.”
I’m feeling sick. “They don’t want to hear from me.”
“The letters aren’t for them. It’s for you. Sometimes putting it all down on paper helps. And then I want you to burn each letter. This will be your new start.”
“But it won’t change anything with them.”
“This is about you, Olivia. You are a survivor. You’ve been through hell and are here to talk about it. You deserve a chance to have a fresh start, but you won’t get that until you can forgive yourself.” She goes on, “Everything you’ve done up to this point has been because of what happened to you as a child. Everything that happens from here on out is because you are going to finally forgive yourself.”
It sounds so simple. But nothing is ever that simple. Not without paying for it later.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good. What does your schedule look like for next week?”
I tell her which days I have class and add, “My roommate wants me to go to a party with her next week.”
“You don’t sound thrilled at the idea.”
“I don’t know if I am. I have a hard time being around people my age. I don’t fit in. Not really.”
I never have. They’re either so immature that I get annoyed being around them, or they sense that I’m one who’s different and stay away from me.
“I think you should go. Even if it’s only for an hour. Try having fun, even if it’s for a night.”
“We’ll see.”
“You can tell me all about it at our session.” She stands, handing me a card with a date on it. “I put my cell phone number on there, too. Please don’t be afraid to call if you need me.”
“Thanks.”
I think we both know I won’t be calling her, though.
I still don’t trust her, and I’m putting the second part of my plan into action, which goes against everything she just told me. I have to do this though – I have to see if there’s a chance they still care about me.
When I step outside, I hear a motorcycle in the distance. My Uber is waiting, and I get inside, trying to ignore the pain in my heart. Why are they still doing this? They should know by now that I’m okay – or close to it.
Jas is sitting at the window in her room, waiting for me when I get to the hospital.
“How was your session with Dr. Cross?”
“Okay, I guess. She told me I should write letters to the guys.”
She cringes. “Ugh. I felt like shit when I did mine.”
“Do you think it helped?”
“Maybe?”
“Judging by your tone, I’m guessing not.”
“It’s just a lot. You’re telling someone how they hurt you and how you hurt them, and then you don’t even get to give it to them.” She mutes the TV and points to the chair next to her. “Arizona called last night. Said Saint was furious.”
“He was. I didn’t even get to touch the pole.”
She waves her hand. “It’s better this way.”
“I heard him telling her to call the other clubs…”
“I know. She mentioned that, too, but, like I said before, this other club isn’t in the Devil’s Regents pocket, so you’re good.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Go to the Purring Pussy tonight. Ask for Milo and tell him that I sent you. He’ll take care of the rest.”
“The Purring Pussy? Isn’t that the place that was busted for sex trafficking?”
“That’s just an urban legend, and it was prostitution, not sex trafficking.” She gives me a look. “Milo doesn’t force the women to have sex. They do it because they want to.”
It sounds a lot like the fantasy company I was working for before. Since I closed my account, they’ve reached out a few times, asking if I was sure this is what I wanted to do. The thing is, I’m not sure at this point. I mean, what if this plan doesn’t work? What if I don’t get the guys back? What then? At least with the website I know I’ll fill the void inside of me. A void, I’d like to mention, that has been leaving me restless since I last saw them…
“Are you even listening?”
“Sorry. Just got lost in my thoughts.”
She sighs. “I was saying to stay away from the ones who have been there a while. They’re territorial and don’t mind fighting for what’s theirs.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“You’ll be fine. Just make sure you lock your locker with a combination lock. Now, do you know what you’re going to we
ar?”
“Probably one of the outfits I’d planned on wearing yesterday.”
“No. That won’t work. You need something racier. The patrons of the club like the women to look like they’re D.T.F.”
Down to fuck. Right.
She gets up slowly, as if she’s in pain, and makes her way across the room to the tiny dressing cabinet and opens the door.
“Here. I think this will work.”
She’s out of breath, so I go to her side.
“I could have gotten that.”
“The doctor said I need to work on walking more. Said I’ll get out of here faster if I do. Now, what do you think?”
She holds up a skimpy piece of pink lingerie, reminding me of the one I got in the mail.
“Where did you get this?”
“Remember that store we went to?”
The one and only time I went out with the club whores, we had gone to a stripper store. It was fun and I’d felt like a part of a group. Too bad nothing like that will ever happen again.
“Yeah. I remember.”
“That’s where I got it. They have it in, like, every color.”
“Someone sent me one in the mail.”
Her eyebrows lift. “That’s weird.”
“I thought so, too. My roommate said a courier brought it. I – I guess I was hoping one of the guys sent it, but it’s not their style.”
“Razor, maybe, but even that still seems off.”
“Well, like I told Lucy, maybe someone sent it to the wrong person.”
Saying it a second time doesn’t make it sound any more convincing. I move to shut the door and notice there are two boxes inside.
“Are these your things from the club?”
She goes to the bed, sitting. “Yeah. One of the Prospects brought it by the other day. Said the rest of my stuff is in storage until I get out.”
“Wow.”
“It is what it is, Olivia. I’m just glad they didn’t torch it.”
“They wouldn’t!”
“Snitches get stitches. It isn’t just a saying, you know. We both could be way worse off.”
“I guess.”
“Whatever. I’m tired.” She looks expectantly at the door.
“I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Whatever suits you, sis.”
The Purring Pussy is exactly how I imagined it would be. Dingy. An odor that is most definitely not pleasant. And a bit scary, if I’m being honest. There are two large bouncers at the front door who look like they take their job seriously. That’s at least reassuring.
One pokes the other. “Is this chick lost?”
“I’m supposed to meet with Milo tonight.”
“You sure about that?”
I’m having some major déjà vu right now. This reminds me of when Rabbit asked if I really wanted to be introduced to the Devil’s Regents. And when I met Razor. And Saint.
“I’m sure.”
“Right this way.”
He leads me into the club, which is even more dark and dank. A few women sit at the bar, drinking and smoking. Compared to Saint’s club, this one is-
“Who’s the new girl?”
“She’s here to see Milo.”
The woman snorts. “She’ll have to wait until he finishes getting high.”
The bouncer grins. “When is he not getting high?” He says to me, “Sit at the bar and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
I perch on one of the barstools, trying not to notice how sticky it is.
The woman asks, “You here for a job?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re pretty. You ought to try the club on fifth. The dancers there make more.”
She’s talking about Saint’s club.
I smile. “Thank you. This club is closer to my house.”
“Suit yourself.” She stands. “Don’t get in my way and we won’t have a problem. I’m Gem.”
“Nice to meet you, Gem.”
She mutters something under her breath as she passes. I sit there for thirty minutes before the bouncer and a man come out. Both are clearly on something.
The man says, “I hear you’re looking for a job. Stand up and let me get a good look at you.”
I stand and reply, “Jasmine sent me.”
“Jas? How in the fuck is she?”
“She’s doing alright,” I lie.
“Well, if Jas sent you, I know you’re good. Can you start tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Club gets sixty percent of what you make, nightly. You can square up at the end of your shift or you can come by my place and party a little before settling up. Earn a little tip…”
Earn a little tip? Judging by the smirk on his face, he’s not talking about money.
I force a smile on my face. “Sixty percent. Got it. Where do I change?”
“Door on the left.”
I walk away, hoping I’m not making a mistake. I mean, Jas wouldn’t send me somewhere dangerous, would she?
In the locker room, I see Gem.
“I see you stuck around. There’s an empty locker over there.”
I go to it, putting my bag on the bench.
“Got a name?”
“I haven’t thought about it. At my last job I went by Ms. Mayhem.”
“I like it. You definitely need to play up to it. You can be our wild child, onstage at least. Lord knows there are some feisty ones here.”
“How did you get your name?”
“Had an ex tell me my pubes looked like rubies. Decided why be one gem when I could be them all.”
I laugh. “That’s wild.”
“Girl, the stories I could tell you.” She looks at the clock on the wall. “Hurry up and change. I’ll show you the ropes.”
Somehow, this woman, who does indeed have ruby-red pubic hair, becomes my friend, showing me the ins and outs of the club. Her number one rule – stay the hell away from Milo. When I’m on stage for my first time, I don’t feel fear or ashamed. It’s the opposite. I feel empowered and sexy. And I can’t wait until word gets back to Saint.
Razor
Someone knocks on my door. Rolling over, I close my eyes, trying to ignore it.
“Razor, it’s me, man. Can I come in?”
“Go away, Bash.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Fuck off.”
The door opens and I regret giving Bash the code. Prick. I said to use it in emergencies.
“Razor, it smells like something died in here.”
“If it offends you then get the hell out.”
The light flips on and I groan, covering my eyes.
“Shit, man. When was the last time you had a shower?”
I’ve lost count of the days, but I don’t voice this.
“Are you my mother now?”
The foot of the bed dips. Cursing, I throw my blanket aside and sit.
“What do you want, Bash?”
“I keep thinking it’ll get easier.”
I know what he’s talking about without having to ask because I keep wishing the same thing.
“Do you think she’s happy,” he asks.
“She looks like she is.”
And it kills me. I only get to see her a few times a week, as she leaves her classes. The other day she was talking to a friend when she stepped outside. Her long, red hair was blowing in the wind and I swear I could almost smell her scent in the air. She laughed at something and then went to the library. According to King, that’s what she does quite often. He’s got her schedule down. But I, well, I can’t seem to bring myself to hang around. It hurts too much watching her move on.
“Eventually we’re going to have to stop this. It isn’t helping her and it’s not good for us.”
This makes him frown. “I know that.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
But neither of us are going to stop anytime soon.
I say, “I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s never good.”
“Remember how we were talking about fixing up your place at the lake?”
He flinches, but nods.
“Maybe we can still do that. It’ll get us out of here.”
Because this place doesn’t feel like home now that she’s gone.
“I think that’s a great idea. But Razor? You’ve got to take a shower, man. Seriously. You reek of booze and onions.”
I laugh. “I will.”
“Good.” He stands. “Get some sleep. We can go to the lumber store in the morning.”
When he’s gone, I look around my room. He’s right – it stinks in here. Standing, I go to my kitchenette and grab a trash bag. My grandma used to say that if you need a clear mind, you need a clean house. Didn’t make sense as a kid, but I think she might be onto something So, I start cleaning. Tomorrow, I’ll start working on my life. And then I’ve got to make a choice. Do I let Olivia go? Or do I go after her, like I’ve wanted to since she left.
6
Saint
I look up at the building, nodding. “This is it. I’ll take it.”
The brick warehouse sits on forty acres outside of Savannah. It’s spacious and is bigger than our current place. There’s enough room to keep the shop and living quarters separate and we won’t have to do much construction. The property is private and has a small pond full of fish. It’s exactly what we need for a fresh start.
The realtor asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to go in with a lower bid? This lot’s sat empty for a while. I’m sure they’ll take it.”
“We’ll pay full price for it. How soon can we move in?”
“I can have the keys for you tomorrow.”
“Make it happen.”
I go back to my bike where King leans against his. He’s staring off into the distance and it doesn’t take much to guess where his mind is. Jericho called and said his mother’s ashes are ready. He’s supposed to stop by at pick them up whenever he wants. I’ve known him for a long time. This is something he’s going to have to process before he acts.
I say, “I bought it. We need to have Church to discuss what this means for the club.”
He dips his head in acknowledgment and then climbs onto his bike. It roars to life and he takes off, his tires spitting gravel in his wake.
