“Paris, you okay?” Ethan asks quietly from the side of the stage.
I can’t breathe or think straight. I’m drowning in the bright lights and the surface of the stage.
“Paris?”
The dizziness is overwhelming. No matter how hard I try to focus on something out there, I can’t. Everything’s a blur. The gasps and giggles ring loudly in my ears, zooming around my head like echoes.
“Paris!”
I manage to find something within in me to scurry backwards on my hands and feet, just enough to move away from the stream of light pouring down on me. Clumsily turning, my hands run across the ground as I find my footing and get myself to a standing position. As I rush of the stage, I push and nudge my way past people with my head firmly pointing south, avoiding their stares. Their taunts, on top of my humiliation, are mortifying. The heat of the room and the fire from my cheeks make being in here a second longer unbearable. I need air and fast.
Collecting up my things in a hurry, I ignore Ethan behind me, continuously repeating my name. He is right; there is no place for me here. I can’t believe I’ve become desperate enough to beg for a job I have no hope of getting. I was crazy to convince myself this could work. Clutching onto my stuff for dear life, I make a beeline towards the exit, only to be abruptly stopped by an arm flinging out in front of me.
“Oh no you don’t,” Georgie snaps.
“Please, just let me go. I have to go,” I beg, attempting to sidestep her.
His voice catches up behind me. “Paris, just wait. Don’t go.”
“Honestly, Ethan, it’s fine. I just want to go.”
“You don’t look fine. Why don’t you stay and have a drink until you calm down?”
“Listen to him. Just take a minute,” she encourages me.
“Both of you just stop. I said I’m fine. I just want to get out of here and forget this whole thing,” I snap.
“Have it your way, Paris. I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help herself.” Ethan sighs, giving up and turning away.
“Exc-” I’m about to argue my point when my words are cut off bluntly by Georgie.
“I’ll teach her.”
My mouth just hangs open as I direct my gaze from Ethan to her, finishing off my sentence. “Excuse me?”
“I said I’ll teach you. I think you have potential. It won’t take me long to get you up to speed.”
There are some things I could say, should say, but all that comes is, “Why are you so nice to me?”
She holds her head a little higher as she speaks. “Because you remind me of someone I used to know.”
The look exchanged between Georgie and Ethan has me wondering if all three of us have more in common than we realised. Whether she’s talking about her friend or herself, I’m unsure, but a friend is something I could use right now. It was the reason I turned to this club in the first place.
“You’re on a trial,” Ethan agrees reluctantly. “But seriously, Paris, if you don’t pull through, I can’t help you anymore.”
“Thank you.”
*******
Getting the job is all well and good, but keeping it is a whole new pole game. As I shuffle through the front door of the apartment, the words I plan to say are on a repeat loop through my head, but the fact is, I’m petrified of what Daggs’ reaction will be. My hand tightens around my bag when I round the corner to the kitchen, bracing myself for the fight that is about to break out between us. When my gaze locks on the image I’m confronted with, my heart freezes and my stomach turns icy. Daggs is wearing a white top and it’s covered in blood. He’s bent over the sink, scrubbing at his arms with a bar of soap. I can’t move from the spot. It’s like I’m an outsider looking in, only I’m not. This is our home. This is where I live, and he’s stood shamelessly in our kitchen wiping himself clean. This is my life.
“Rider, get me a top.”
I stand, staring limply as the thump in my heart begins to beat faster.
“Rider…”
“I-I…” I struggle to speak as my bag slumps to the floor from my shoulder.
“Fuck, Rider. Move it.” His command is loud and non-negotiable.
Daggs’ voice carries such dominance; I know there’s no messing with him. Scrambling into the bedroom, I quickly rifle through a drawer to find a clean top for him. This is the kind of the thing I get dragged into – covering as his alibi – except this is the first time I’ve seen him bring his handiwork home. Rushing back to the kitchen, I hold my shaking arm out for him to take the t-shirt.
“Where have you been?” he asks, pulling the top over his head, my eyes are mesmerised by how every muscle in his upper torso stretches out.
“I went…”
“You were here with me the whole time.”
“I was?”
“You were.” He closes the gap between us. “But just out of interest, where did you go?” Towering over me, he narrows his eyes and studies my face, knowing full well that I've lied to him. He grips my chin, tilting it upwards to glare straight into my eyes. “You didn’t just go to the graveyard.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat, practically hanging from his hand as he lifts me slightly off the ground so the tips of my toes are grazing the carpet. I fear for what will happen if I lie and I fear for what will happen if I tell the truth. I’m suddenly in a no win situation and no matter what I say, it feels like the result will end up the same. I can’t win. I’ll never beat Daggs.
I try to speak through the pressure on my cheeks. “I got a job.”
His neck looks like it’s going to dislodge when he stretches it out into my face. “You did what?” His nostrils flare and I know he’s angry.
“I did it for you,” I whisper weakly.
“For me?”
“I figured the extra money might help, and you said you’ve always had a thing for girls that can dance.” My voice struggles to break free, but more importantly, I'm already struggling to breathe. My body is going into shock.
“Dance?”
“I’ve auditioned to be a pole dancer at a new club in town.”
I scrunch my eyes shut and cower my head backwards, bracing myself for what is about to come.
But it doesn’t.
Not wanting to look for fear of what I might see, but unable to resist the temptation, I peek one eye open to face what waits me. He’s deep in thought until he places my feet back down to the ground. “This could work.” He flexes his fingers on the hand he’s been clutching my face with. I can see the cogs turning in his mind, and I know a plan is being hatched – one I’m not privy to. “If anyone asks, I took you today. I was there the whole time, playing the supportive boyfriend. You got it?”
“S-sure,” I blow out, shaking my head in agreement as my hand gently rubs over the area his has been. I’ll do anything if it means he’ll go easy on me.
“That’s my girl.” His palms find my face again, his thumbs brushing over the apples of my cheeks as though he hasn't just hurt me in any way, shape or form.
“Always,” I mutter weakly.
“Good.” Moving his mouth to my ear, his breath washes over me before a low growl escapes him and a new tone takes over. One I know better than any other he owns. “Now dance for me.”
Twenty-Nine
July 2005
It doesn’t take long to learn the ropes, not with Georgie as a teacher. She tries to convince me that dancing around a pole can be a good healer for troubled souls, but it’s not done much for me so far. The job hasn’t quite turned out as I expected. Sure, it’s a rest from the realm of Daggs, but inevitably it sends me running back to him as he made sure from day one I wouldn’t see a penny of my wages. He’s started pushing some new stuff around town. It’s good stuff, which he said would help with my nerves on stage. He was right, because now, when I’m out there, I completely switch off. I’m not even aware of the eyes that are on me.
“I’m outta here. See you later, Georgie.”
�
��Paris?”
“Yeah?” I stop and hover by the doorway.
“Did you think about what I said?”
“Georgie,” I answer with a sigh. “You ask me the same thing every week and the answer is still the same.”
“I won’t give up.” She stands from her chair in front of the mirror and walks over, taking my hands in hers. “How long do you think you can keep this up for? You’re wasting your life away and to that loser. You have so much more potential. If only you could see it.”
She’s been looking out for me for the past four months now, like I’m her pet project or something. It’s nice having someone to care for you, but it comes at a price, and mine is her constant pleas for me to quit the drugs and get out. She speaks about it so effortlessly, like it’s so simple, some days, I almost allow myself to believe it. But Daggs is not an easy person to escape, and what’s more, he will never let me go. It’s pointless.
“Georgie.” I drop my chin to my chest, unable to look at the disappointment in her eyes for the hundredth time. “We both know it’s not going to happen.”
“I’ll help you. I’ll stand up to him. He doesn’t scare me.”
“But he does me,” I whisper, lowering my head further, wishing she knew the half of it.
“Paris, you can do this.”
“No.” I slowly shake my head. “No, I can’t and I’m sorry, I have to go. He’s waiting for me.” Quickly snatching my hands back from hers, I instantly miss the warmth that she provides when I’m around her, like Izzy used to.
“Sure he is,” she murmurs and turns her back to me to go get ready for her shift.
As I watch her bright red hair bounce with such life, I realise just how dull and desperate my own life has become, and despite hating myself for letting her down, I just can’t do what she is asking of me. When I look at Daggs, my heart starts to beat faster and my palms turn sweaty, just like they’re doing now when I spot him across the car park, talking to one of the dancers. Taking a weak step backwards, I fumble in my pocket for the small plastic bag and my key. Quickly dipping it inside, I scoop a heap of the powder, place it under my nose and sniff hard before tucking it back away in my pocket and feeling a slow burning ease through my tension. If Ethan, his friend, Scott, or his right-hand, ex Vegas showgirl dancer, Sapphire, caught me, I’d be kicked out in a second. They are so anti-drugs now it’s almost sickeningly preachy.
Lifting my bag further up onto my shoulder, I shove both my hands into my jacket pockets and head over to where Daggs is stood. I don’t know why he insists on escorting me to and from most of my shifts. He never steps inside the club, however. There’s no way Ethan will allow it, although it doesn’t stop him from sending his spies in. He’s never interested in speaking to me when he’s hanging around anyway, just the other girls that come and go. For some reason, they swarm around him, just like I did when I first met him, but if they only knew the truth, they might not be so eager. Daggs being Daggs, he always gets his own way, so if he’s interested in one of them, I usually find out about it in the dressing room. I’ve learnt to get over the humiliation of it all now. A quick powder of my nose in the comfort of a bathroom cubicle and I become numb enough to ignore the sordid details and daily grind that is all part of being Daggs’ girlfriend.
I keep my head hung low when I walk over and acknowledge him. “Hey.”
“Rider.” He flings his hand straight to my arse to jerk me to his side.
“I’m ready when you are,” I murmur, avoiding eye contact with the other girl.
“I’m ready.”
He gives the girl a nod as he straightens himself up from where he’s been leaning on the car. The movement means I have to sidestep, causing me to catch a glimpse of a sparkle in the light and narrow my eyes. The girl’s hand is delicately hung over the door handle where she’s clearly been draped, flirting with Daggs.
“What is that?” I ask softly as I edge towards her.
“I said I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“What is what?” she asks, raising a brow.
“Now, Rider.” Daggs demands.
“No, wait a minute.” I shrug his hand off. “What is that ring? Let me see.”
There’s a moment’s pause while she hesitates to answer. “Oh, this? It’s just a ring I’ve had for a while.” Her other hand moves to cover it as she clenches.
“Rider!” Daggs commands while his hand tightly grabs my upper arm to drag me around the car.
“Get off me!” I snap, tugging my arm from him with a new found anger that is beginning to bubble away under the surface. “Let me see it.” I lunge forward to grab her hand, my bag flying across the car park.
“Hey! Get off,” she squeals.
With her palm momentarily locked in mine, I get my first good look at it and I feel like I can’t breathe. I’d recognise it anywhere. It’s my ring, the one my dad bought me.
“That’s my ring.” I claw at her finger, desperate to get it off. “That’s fucking mine! Where did you get it from?”
“Get off me, you crazy bitch. It’s my ring.” She jumps backwards and snatches her hand away from me.
“Rider.” Daggs’ arm slips around my waist, attempting to drag me away again.
“Get off me, Daggs. I want my ring back. Where did she get it? Where?” I forcefully dig the heel of my boot into his shin and throw my hand towards his head to scratch my nails down his face. That’s my ring. It belongs to me and there is no way I’m leaving here without it.
“Fuck,” he snarls, gripping his cheek before the rage erupts in his eyes.
It gives me the few moments I need to launch myself forward and attempt to get my ring back.
“Give me my ring, god dammit!” I scream.
“It’s my ring. He gave it to me,” the girl shouts back.
My entire body goes into shock, freezing in place, not believing what she just said to be true. My heart is hammering so hard in my chest, it almost feels like it’s going to explode out onto the concrete for them both to stamp on some more.
“W-what?” I pant.
“You heard. He gave it to me. Your boyfriend.” She points to Daggs behind me.
I can’t believe I’m hearing this, after everything I’ve done and put myself through for him. He found my ring and gave it to some other girl like it was nothing. He knew how much it meant to me. He knew.
I swipe a damp piece of hair from my forehead and turn to him, finding a tiny shred of courage from within. “Is this true?”
He rolls his shoulder and straightens his jacket, composing himself from the scene I have created. I’m lucky Ethan isn’t around to witness this, otherwise I know I would lose my job, but at this stage, I don’t care. I want my ring back and I want to know what I did to him that was so wrong that he would treat me this way.
“Yeah,” he answers casually.
“Why would you do that?” The tears prick at my eyes as a lump lodges in my throat.
He slowly leans forward and sinks his heavy hand into my arm while breathing into my face. “Get your bag. We’re going.”
I gaze back at the man before me, wondering if there will ever come a time when I will be able to protect myself from the hurt he purposefully pours onto me. He tells people I’m his like he’s obsessed, but he doesn’t love me, not the love like I used to believe in, not the love I used to dream about from the movies. He’s a selfish, arrogant, manipulative, heartless monster who I will never be free of, no matter what I do.
I don’t say another word. I know what’s coming. I saw the switch in his dark eyes, yet I have nothing left to fight with. I do as I’m told, pick up my bag and allow him to bundle me into the passenger seat. After losing my ring, I convinced myself that the best way to cope was to shut off from hope, want and love, but now I realise without all those things, I’ve become exactly what I didn’t want to be: a pawn in another man’s game.
*******
I’m not sure what time sleep took over my aching, bruised body la
st night, but one thing’s for sure: there is no way I can go into work like this. I feel like I’ve been in a car crash. Despite the deep cut to my lip and black eye on my face, my arms would struggle to find any strength to pull myself around the pole. The pain down my left side is so tender; my hand cradles it while I struggle to walk towards the house phone. With Daggs gone, it’s the first opportunity to ring the club. If I don’t, there’s the risk that Georgie might turn up here and I can’t let her see me like this. No one can.
“Hey,” I croak.
“Paris, is that you?” Ethan asks.
“Yeah.” I wince quietly. “I… I won’t be able to make it in today.”
“Everything okay?”
As my eyes fall shut with shame, I relive every strike flying through the air from last night. Blow after blow. I tried to defend myself, but the struggle against his powerful punches was too much. All the air left my lungs, dizziness taking over as the ability to control my limbs left me. The bitter taste of blood still lingers in my mouth as I try my best to speak through my swollen lip.
“I’m just sick.”
“It’s that all it is?” Ethan asks, reluctantly.
My tongue traces the cut on my lip, causing a delay in my answer as I try to decide whether or not to tell him the truth. As much as I want to trust he will help me, the thought of losing my job on top of everything else would be too soul destroying. That place is my only saving grace at the moment, and besides, he doesn’t deserve to be dragged into my mess. He’s making a new life for himself and doing well.
Paris Hemsworth's Road to Wonderland (Road to Wonderland Series Book 2) Page 19
