I guess this is what it feels like to be so thoroughly fucked, you believe you’ll never be the same again.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I finally admit to my friend. We’re both standing at the bar watching Chuck pour drinks for our customers. It’s a Saturday night and the club is full—there’s literally a line to get in outside, and I’ve been running and gunning since I started my shift. I’m grateful Savannah and I are working together, but I don’t appreciate her teasing either, especially since I don’t want to reveal what happened last night.
Her finely arched brows shoot straight up. “Why didn’t you get much sleep last night, huh? Whatcha been up to?”
“Nothing,” I mumble, trying not to meet her gaze for fear she’ll see my truth. I keep my eyes on Chuck, but I can feel my cheeks go pink and I want to smack myself. Savannah will catch on quick. She never misses a beat. And just as I suspected, the knowing look she sends my way within a matter of seconds tells me she’s on to my lies.
I just can’t ever let her figure out all of my lies or I’m done for.
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, but I can tell. You, my dear, have the look of a woman who’s found herself a man who knows how to satisfy her,” Savannah drawls as she nudges me with her shoulder. I vehemently shake my head as she asks, “Is it true? Did you have S-E-X last night?”
I’m still shaking my head, my cheeks so hot I feel like I’m burning up from the inside out. “Of course not,” I snap.
Savannah laughs. “Liar. You’re all shaky and glassy-eyed. Hmm.” She leans in, her face so close to mine I can smell the minty gum she’s chewing. “Or maybe you found some high-quality coke and forgot to share.”
“Savannah!” Drugs scare me, just like liquor scares me. I’m terrified I’ll lose control and do something stupid.
Huh. Though now I’ve discovered that sex with Rhett makes me lose control too. I would’ve done anything he asked last night. Anal sex? Yes, please. Introduce a few other people into the mix? Sure, why not? Put clamps on your nipples and tie you to the bed? Of course! Let’s do it.
Yeah. That’s not good. I’ve never been into those sorts of things at all. So why would I think it’s something Rhett and I could do?
Clearly, it’s because he’s fucking with my mind and making me have out-of-control thoughts.
“I’m kidding.” She pats me on the shoulder. “Though the occasional coke hit will give you the biggest feeling of euphoria. Mmm.” Savannah shakes her head, a dreamy expression on her face. “Fucking on coke is like an out-of-body experience.”
“I think I had enough out-of-body experiences last night, and I wasn’t even on coke,” I tell her, making her laugh harder.
“Wow. This guy must be something then. Did you meet him here? Did he take one look at your fabulous ta-tas and throw himself at your feet?”
“Hell no.” I wrinkle my nose. “You know we can’t fraternize with guests.”
“Like anyone sticks to that rule.” Savannah tilts her head to the side, her long ponytail sliding over her shoulder. “Does he know you work here?”
Dread consumes me, making me clutch the edge of the bar so tightly my fingers ache. “No. He can never know I work here.”
“You want to keep him in your life?” she asks, but I don’t answer. “If you do, then you better be honest. He finds out you work here, walking around with no top on all night while men leer at your chest, and he’s gonna shit a ton of bricks.”
“Trust me, I know,” I say with a slight shake of my head. I don’t want to talk about this right now, with Savannah, in the middle of the club with the music blaring so loud I can hardly hear myself think. Rhett isn’t a part of my life here at City Lights. I compartmentalize everything. When I’m with Rhett, I focus on him and nothing else. When I’m at work, I usually don’t think of Rhett at all.
But tonight, my mind is consumed with thoughts of him. Every guy in this place with hair the same color as his has me looking twice, my heart leaping to my throat. What happened between us last night is running on a continuous loop in my brain. How he looked at me, the way he kissed me, the way he made me feel. It was…mind-blowing, when that’s the last thing I need.
He’s taking up way too much of my brain space. I don’t know what I’d do if he showed up here.
“When do you see him again?” Savannah asks just as Chuck adds fresh drinks to her tray.
“I don’t know,” I answer with a little shrug. He left my house in the middle of the night, around three in the morning. I woke up to him pressing a kiss to my cheek and telling me he’d text me later.
I haven’t heard from him since.
“Maybe it’s just a one-time thing?” She grabs the tray, her gaze meeting mine. “Sometimes those are the best, you know? One delicious night with a hot man who makes your toes curl, only to never see him again. Your expectations can never be let down, you know?”
I watch Savannah walk away, her skirt swishing, her head held high as she commands the attention of every man she passes. I admire her confidence, wish even the tiniest bit could rub off on me.
“Here you go.” Chuck’s gruff voice makes me turn around, and I take the tray from him and head out into the crowd. I try to adopt some of Savannah’s swagger as I deliver drinks to my customers, ignoring how they stare at me, adopting that I don’t give a shit mask I’ve become decent at wearing.
The entire night is like this. I finally find a rhythm and there’s no more screwing up drink orders or nearly falling on my face. Don isn’t yelling at me anymore, and at one point I do a little twirl for my guests at one of the corner tables that has the best view of the stage. Four men in their late forties to early fifties, all dressed well, their eyes lit with interest as I spin around when one of them asks, my skirt flaring out so far, I almost flash them my ass.
I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I do, and when I go backstage to take my break about an hour later, Don approaches me with an appreciative gleam in his eye. “You turned it around tonight, doll.”
I try not to roll my eyes. I really don’t like it when he calls me that. “Thanks. I started off bad, but I think I’m okay now.”
“You’re more than okay.” He glances over his shoulder, like he’s making sure no one’s paying attention to us, before he returns his gaze to mine. “I have a proposition for you.”
My stomach bottoms out. Don has only mentioned a proposition to me twice before. Once, a guest requested to, and I quote, titty-fuck me. Another time, a couple wanted me to watch them have sex in the storage room. Both requests would’ve earned me extra money, but I was uncomfortable, so I turned them down.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice, my head, my entire body weary. My money situation isn’t the best. Tuition is due soon, and I can’t apply for financial aid since my grades were so bad that first semester I was at the community college in my hometown. The semester when my dad died. I didn’t bother going back to my classes and I failed all of them.
I’m on my own. I can’t even qualify for a student loan because of that one semester. Yet another regret in the long list of them that makes up my life.
“There’s a gentleman you’ve been serving all evening. He’s very interested in you.” Don blatantly stares at my boobs. “He wants to get to know you better. Says you’re giving off a very friendly, sexy vibe.”
Ick. “I don’t kn—”
Don holds up his hand, silencing me. “Hear me out. This guy, he’s fucking loaded, Jen. He flashed me a fat stack of hundreds and said he had ten thousand cash for us if you’d spend a little alone time with him.”
I blink at my boss, trying to comprehend what he just said. “What do you mean, ten thousand cash for us?”
“He just wants to spend time with you. Said it would take no longer than an hour.” Don hesitates, his gaze skittering away from mine. “I’ll split the money with you fifty-fifty.”
What an insult.
“No way.” I start to walk out, but Don gr
abs me by the arm, stopping me.
“Fine, you get six, I get four,” he offers. So generous. Doesn’t he realize I’m the one who has to “spend time” with this guy? I don’t even know what he wants from me.
But I can take a guess.
“I get eight, you get two, and we’ve got a deal.” I can’t believe I said that. My greed just completely took over me, but this is the perfect opportunity for me to earn some major cash. I always tell Savannah I would never do something like this, but…
How can I let this opportunity get away from me?
Don grins, a chuckle escaping him. Like my negotiating skills are so hilarious. “I can’t give you that much, Jen. Come on.”
“I’m the one who’s going to have to grind on this guy’s dick or whatever,” I mutter, wrenching my arm out of his grip. I can’t think beyond dick-grinding right now. I know it could be much worse, but I don’t want to imagine it. “I should make the majority of the money for what I have to do. You’re doing nothing.”
“I’m the one who’s brokering the deal and letting you off early from your shift, so I deserve something too.” Don licks his lips, reminding me of a slimy lizard. “Six and four. That’s my final offer.”
“What exactly does this guy want from me?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Only mentioned that you looked real good and he wants to get to know you. I bet if you treat him real nice, touch him, kiss him, maybe jerk him off, he’ll be happy. Just say yes. Come on.” Don sends me a pleading look.
I shouldn’t do it. But I’m living paycheck to paycheck, even with the great tips I make here. My shitty house isn’t cheap, and school takes up a lot of my money. Once I get in good with the Montgomerys, I know I’ll walk away with a huge payoff, but until then I’m fighting for every dollar I get.
“Seven and three or I’m out.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, plumping up my boobs on purpose. Don’s eyes drop to them and I let him stare, trying not to feel too creeped out. He’s laser-focused on my erect nipples, which is just weird, but I tell myself I’m doing this for seven grand.
Seven. Grand.
“Fine.” He sighs, as if I just put him out. “Seven and three it is.”
Relief floods me. I may be acting like a whore, but at least I’ll be seven thousand dollars richer by the end of the evening.
Ignoring the shame that threatens, I drop my arms to my sides and shake my hair back. “Tell your guest I’ll do it.”
Don grins and rubs his hands together. “Stay right here. Got a little bit of arrangin’ to do.”
I watch him walk away, then tell myself that no matter what, I can’t run.
Even though I really want to.
Three years ago
“Are you serious? What the hell are we going to do now?” Dad follows me as I walk through the trailer toward my bedroom. “How could you lose that job?”
I whirl on him, furious. Like it’s always my fault when I bring home bad news. It’s so frustrating. I feel for him, I do, but he needs to stop blaming me for everything that happens to us. “My boss tried to cop a feel, Dad. When he grabbed my ass, I told him no and slapped his hand away. He fired me.”
My father stares at me, his expression horrified. “What are you talking about, he tried to cop a feel? Jim is my friend! He would never do that!”
“Well, he’s your friend who tried to feel me up.” I rest my hands on my hips, glaring at him. He looks terrible, pale and weak. His hair is thin and his eyes are bloodshot. He doesn’t eat much anymore, and it shows. I bet a strong gust of wind would knock him right over.
Closing my eyes briefly, I take a deep breath, reminding myself that he’s not well. He’s sick, but I’m so frustrated over what happened, it’s hard to focus on being careful when all I wanna do is blow up at him. “When was the last time you went outside?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He waves a hand. “You need to find another job, Jenny. You know we can’t go too long without your income.”
The problem is, I can’t find fulltime work around here, and that’s what I need in order to afford the rent at this stupid trailer park. No one wants to hire an under-experienced eighteen-year-old, but I can’t get any experience if no one is going to hire me. It’s such bullshit.
God knows my father isn’t able to hold down a job, and he’s still fighting to get on permanent disability. His depression makes it hard for him to get out of bed. He’s lost most of his jobs just because he didn’t show up.
It’s unbelievable, how my mother still controls him to this day. It’s also pitiful.
And sad.
“I’ll go look for a job tomorrow.” I throw the covers back and climb into bed, desperate to curl up into a ball and forget about all my troubles. I’m so tired, and still weirded out by my boss Jim grabbing my butt. He acted like it was no big deal, like I shouldn’t have a problem with him touching my ass, but come on. This guy is old enough to be my father. It’s creepy.
I don’t regret slapping his hand away. I don’t regret telling him no either. I do sort of regret losing the job, because it’s never fun to go out and find a new one, but if I let that guy get away with it, what would he try next?
No way did I want to find out.
“You need to get back out there right now.” Dad grabs my covers and yanks them away from my body. “Get up and go find another job. We can’t afford to lose any more money.”
“What did you do with the money I gave you last week?” That check had been almost six hundred dollars, a pretty substantial sum for us.
“It’s gone.” He snaps his fingers, as if the cash disappeared into thin air. “We need more.”
I sit up, smoothing my hair away from my face. “It’s all gone? Like, you spent every last dollar?”
“Yep.” My father nods, and there’s something in the way he’s not looking at me that makes me suspicious.
“What did you do with it all?” I leap from the bed so I can stand in front of him, noticing how he won’t look me in the eye. He’s hiding something. But what? “Dad. What happened to all the money?” I know he didn’t spend it on rent. That’s not due for another ten days.
“I let Norah borrow it,” he admits, his head still bent.
“What?” He jerks his head up at my roar and I throw my hands up into the air. “You barely know that woman!”
“I know she’s good for it! She said she’ll pay me back. She’s just a little short, is all!”
“We’re always a little short. We don’t have that kind of money to loan out.” I can’t even wrap my head around what he’s saying. He’ll support his friend, but not support us? Me? I don’t understand. Since when did I become such a low priority in his life? “You need to tell her she has to pay us back ASAP.”
“Just go find another job. We’ll be fine.” He waves his hand, dismissing me, my words, my concern. I hate it when he does that.
Hate. It.
“I don’t want to find another job. And no, we won’t be fine. You’ve become the Bank of fucking America, lending out our money to neighbors we don’t even know. What the hell is wrong with you?”
He slaps my face so hard, I swear my head snaps back. A gasp escapes me as I rest my hand on my cheek, staring at him. It stings where he hit me. Tears immediately spring to my eyes, and I realize I’m shaking.
“Don’t you ever speak like that to me again.” He points his index finger in my face, his bloodshot eyes wide, his body vibrating with anger. “I’m the one in charge here, not you. If I want to loan out our money, then that’s my right. And if I want you to go out and find another job, then you better damn well do it before I kick your skinny little ass out in the street.”
I’m full-blown crying now. His words hurt, hit me in my most painful spots. I’m terrified of being on my own, yet life with my father isn’t that great either. As he gets older and more depressed, he becomes meaner. It’s hard to deal with. I love him, but his constant anger confuses me.
Maybe l
ife would be better out in the street. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with my father all the time.
“You’re just like her, you know.”
Oh, here it comes. The words are familiar. He started the comparisons about six months ago, when he caught me sneaking back into the trailer way past my curfew. His disappointment had killed me. Made me cry.
Now I’ve become numb to it. I blame her. She broke him. She made him this way.
“Lazy. Always said men wanted her, how they would touch her and say suggestive things. You know what I realized?” He sends me a questioning look.
Yes, dear old Dad, please tell me what you realized.
“That your mother was nothing but a worthless whore. And if you don’t watch out, you’re going to turn out the same exact way,” he announces. He wants me to hear what he’s saying.
And I do. Loud and clear.
“Thanks for your faith in me, Dad,” I mutter as I push past him. I escape out of the trailer, never once looking back, even though he’s calling my name. I hop into the shitty old car we share and start it up, pulling out of our space just as Dad exits the trailer. He waves a fist at me, but I ignore him. Instead, I hit the gas, the tires spinning in the dirt until they catch traction and the car lurches forward.
I drive aimlessly with the windows rolled down, the wind in my hair, my tears dried on my cheeks. It still hurts where he slapped me, and the anger fills me.
Fuels me.
After I freshen up a little in the bathroom—take a pee, brush my hair, clean up the mascara smudges from beneath my eyes so I don’t look like a raccoon, and slick on a new coat of shiny pink lip-gloss—I decide I look pretty good. There’s a sparkle in my eyes that wasn’t there before, which I blame on last night with Rhett.
Her Defiant Heart - Monica Murphy Page 9
