“Sure. And don’t worry. He probably thinks you’re interested in him and that his weird stalking is flirting. Some guys just don’t get the difference between persistence and just acting like a fucking psycho.”
“I hope that’s all it is,” I say.
13
Dominic
I’m all dressed up and pissed at having to go on this ridiculous night out to this venue I wish that I’d never stepped foot into. It’s tacky to the point of making me cringe, with pounding sexy music and way too many mirrors for my liking. Connor struts in, shaking the doorman’s hand as though he’s a regular. He probably is.
Douchebag.
I follow Harrison, who looks as uncomfortable as me. Jenna is cool, but I’m sure she’s not pleased about him coming here. Connor called ahead so we have four booths booked, with alcohol waiting for us on the table. Four girls are waiting too, in black lace underwear and fuck-me heels. Some of the guys whistle and make other appreciative noises as they pile into the seats.
“Hell yeah,” Connor shouts, as the girl nearest to him starts pouring shots.
“You boys celebrating something?” she asks, smiling sweetly.
“We won our game.” Connor grabs the first shot and necks it.
“Football?” she asks. It should be pretty obvious looking at us. Our defense guys are huge. They ain’t playing anything else.
“Yeah, baby. You like ballers?” Connor goes to put his arm around her shoulder but she quickly moves to the side, as though she needs to pour shots for the rest of the table. It’s smooth, so he doesn’t get angry, but it’s obvious all the same.
“I like watching a game every now and then.”
“You can come and watch me anytime.” Connor isn’t giving up. It’s his night and his show. Fuck the rest of us.
I glance around the place, feeling bored. I’ve got a good view of the girl on the nearest stage. She’s dressed in little angel wings and feathery bra and panties. She looks cute, but the dancing she’s doing is anything but. My cock twitches, because I’d have to be fucking dead to see a girl with a body like that and not get aroused, but I don’t like it. I don’t like gawping at someone while they sell their body for the visual pleasure of a bunch of assholes. I’m including myself in that just for being here.
Harrison downs a shot and shakes his head. “I fucking hate these places,” he says under his breath.
“Me too, dude.”
“I look at these chicks and all I can think is they’re someone’s sister or someone’s daughter. It’s fucked up.”
“I know.”
“What you two bitches mumbling about?” Connor slurs. He’s already downed more shots that he should, and he’s about to get more obnoxious. “These girls love what they’re doing. No one’s forcing them to take their clothes off.”
“You telling me that this was their vocation?” I say. Connor shrugs. “You think they were in high school, talking to the counselor about what job they want to do, and they set their sights on becoming strippers.”
“Dude, you talking shit. These girls get PAID for what they do.” Connor rubs his fingers together like he’s fondling paper money.
“And if they could get PAID for doing something that didn’t involve taking their clothes off, are you telling me they would choose to do this shit? Because they love it so much.”
Connor laughs. “Look at her,” he says, pointing to the girl on the stage. “She loves it. The attention. I bet she feels so sexy up there, with all of us looking at her. I bet she fucks her boyfriend good when she gets home.”
I shake my head because there is no talking to some people. They have a one-way train of thought and they’re sticking to it. Connor knows it all, apparently.
I slide out of the booth, knowing that if I don’t get away from this conversation fast that I’m going to end up getting into a fight. This is supposed to be team building, not team destroying. I need to slap some cold water on my face and get a soda from the bar. I need to remember that I’m here for a reason and that trying to educate Connor in any way is a pointless exercise.
The bathrooms are spotless, and when I’m done, I gaze at myself in the mirror. I look tired; my eyes are ringed from my disturbed sleep last night. I’ve got a bruise on my cheek too, from a particularly violent tackle this afternoon.
I pull my phone from my pocket and find Hannah’s name in my contacts. I should call her to make sure she’s okay. I should tell her I’m sorry for what happened last night. I press the button, but she doesn’t pick up. When I stuff the phone back into my pocket, I feel like shit. She’s probably avoiding me. I’m not supposed to see her until Tuesday for our next study session.
I’m on my way to the bar to get my Coke when I catch the scent of a perfume that I recognize. The girl standing at the bar, dressed in some seriously sexy black lingerie smells just like Hannah. I think it’s jasmine, but whatever it is, she smells like summer breezes and happiness. I stand next to her as she slides a drink order over to the barman.
“You see him yet?” the barman asks her.
“Not yet,” she says, and I do a double take because her voice is familiar too. She sounds just like Hannah, and her hair is like Hannah’s too, but I can’t be certain because she’s wearing a mask. I wait for her to pick up her drinks and when she turns, I glance quickly at her hip. There it is. The little birthmark that Hannah has that looks like a tiny heart.
“Hannah?” I say before I really think about what I’m doing.
Her eyes flick up to mine and her face falls. I see her throat move as she swallows. I see her cheeks pink up where the fabric on the lace mask ends. She wobbles a little on her heels and I reach out to grab her elbow to steady her.
“Dominic,” she whispers. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I’m kind of aghast because it should be me asking her that question. What the fuck is she doing working in a place like this, wearing what she’s wearing? I can’t stop myself from looking her over. My god, she’s sexy. Tumbling auburn hair and curves for days. My mouth feels dry because she’s so beautiful, but she’s standing in this shithole wearing just her underwear, and all these losers are getting to see what’s mine.
Mine?
Where the hell did that come from? Some primitive part of myself that thinks if you kiss a girl, you’ve claimed her. Am I that pathetic?
No. I like her. I don’t want to because I need to be concentrating on my grades, but I do. And this complicates everything even more.
“I’m here with the team,” I say, indicating to where they are all making noise in the booths.
“Fuck,” she says, turning back quickly. “I can’t be here. I can’t be recognized.”
“What the fuck are you doing here, Hannah?”
“I can’t talk now,” she says, glancing over at the barman.
She goes to walk away and I grab her arm, making her wobble on her heels again.
“No touching, man,” the barman says sternly. Hannah looks up at me, her pretty eyes filled with tears.
“I need to do my job,” she says. Her voice quivers. “Let me do my job.”
I take a step back because I don’t know what the hell is going on here, and I don’t know what I should do about it. My mind races, realizing that her problem from last night is probably something related to her job here. Maybe one of the customers has taken a step over the line? Maybe it’s an ex-boyfriend. My gut clenches because I thought I knew Hannah Star. I thought she was an intelligent girl, focused on studying, who knew her own mind. This Hannah doesn’t seem anything like the one who’s been tutoring me.
“Okay,” I say, leaning against the bar. I don’t want to let her walk away from me. I want answers. I want to take off my jacket and hang it around her shoulders so that no other man gets to look at her. I want to wrap her in my arms and tell her she doesn’t need to be scared of anyone because I’ll keep her safe. I was too young to help my sister, but I’m bigger and stronger now. No fucker is go
ing to hurt anyone that I ever care about again.
Hannah walks away, carrying the tray of drinks to a table on the other side of the bar area. She’s serving tables away from the football team’s booths, but that doesn’t mean that she won’t come into contact with them. There’s a real chance that she’s going to get recognized. Rumors spread like wildfire. There won’t be a person on campus who won’t find out her secret if one of those guys sees her.
I watch her as she approaches other tables, clearing empties and wiping up. Customers talk to her but she seems withdrawn. I catch her looking across at me, and across at the team.
“You know Star?” the barman says from behind me. I’m confused for a second, then I realize that must be the name she uses here.
“Yeah.”
“But you didn’t know she worked here?” I nod and he shrugs. “She’s a good girl, that one. Kind. Honest. She works damn hard to make every cent she can.”
I get a lump in my throat because this guy knows her and respects her, despite what she does. Actually, because of what she does. “I don’t like this place,” I say as if that’s a decent explanation for my reactions.
“I get that. It’s not for everyone.”
“But you work here?”
“I do. It’s good money. The girls are great, too. We joke around and have some fun.”
“She was scared the other night. You know what that’s about?” I ask. At least if I can find out what’s worrying Hannah, I’ll have a better idea of how to approach things.
“Yeah. Kind of. There’s a guy who’s taken a liking to her.”
Those few words are enough to fill me with rage, but I need to keep calm. I need to find out more. “She thought he was outside her dorm.”
“Yeah, she told me. I’ve told her to tell the management.”
“Do you think they’ll do anything about it?”
“The guy…he’s friends with the owner.” The barman raises his eyebrows and shrugs as if that fact solves all her problems. I’m starting to get the feeling that this guy isn’t as sincere as he likes to put across. If he really gave a shit about Hannah, there’s no way he’d be able to be this flippant about something that could affect her safety. I grit my teeth because I’m itching to call him out, but shouting at him isn’t going to get me more information.
“So that’s why she doesn’t want to go to the cops?”
“I guess.” Again with the flippant attitude.
“Do you think she should go to the cops?” I ask him.
He picks up a cloth from behind the bar and begins to wipe the countertop. “I don’t know,” he says in the end. If he’s such a great friend to Hannah, and he cares about her so much, surely he should be more concerned and ready to help her take some action.
Hannah comes back to the bar with another order. She passes it over the counter, avoiding making eye contact with me. I ball my fists because I feel crazy in this fucked up situation. All my instincts are screaming at me to pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and take her back to my room where I know she’ll be safe, but I can’t. She doesn’t even want me to stand next to her. She doesn’t want me here.
“Hannah,” I say.
She puts up her hand. “Don’t use my name in here, okay.”
“Sorry,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Look, I need to go back to the guys before they send out a search party.”
“Sure. Go on.”
“I just wanted to say that I’ll be around if you need me, okay.”
She blinks slowly, as though she’s trying to wipe away the images her eyes are capturing. Maybe she wants to pretend I was never here. That way she could go back to being Hannah Star, History major, not Hannah Star, lingerie waitress.
“Thanks,” she says. “But I’ll be okay.”
She turns to the bar and I’m fucking mad now. I never wanted to come to this shitty place, but there was obviously a reason that fate sent me in this direction. Now Hannah’s pushing me away just for knowing what she does for a living.
“Look, I won’t tell anyone, okay.”
“Fuck them,” she says angrily. “All those rich idiots who come in here wasting their daddy’s money. Fuck them all.”
“What time is your shift over?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m gonna wait and come back with you.”
“I’ve got something to do after.”
“I’ll wait as long as it takes, okay. I just want to know that you’re safe.”
She looks toward the barman who is obviously listening to our exchange but trying to pretend he isn’t.
“Kaleb is going to walk me to my car. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to stay that late.”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. This girl is so stubborn. It’s as though she doesn’t want to be cared for. Just like Lana, thinking she should handle things on her own when she doesn’t have to. There’s no shame in needing other people. There’s no shame in asking for support or advice at least. It makes me feel so fucking powerless, and maybe that’s my problem based on my past experience. Maybe she can handle this. I just don’t know how to not be the guy who rushes in to protect her.
“You gonna make sure she gets in her car okay?” I ask Kaleb.
“Yeah, of course. I got her.”
I like the sound of that even less. He’s good-looking and maybe single. Maybe he and Hannah have a thing going? Fuck, I want to kill him and I don’t even know if he’s touched her.
“I don’t fucking like this,” I growl and Hannah seems to flinch.
“Don’t swear at me,” she hisses angrily. “Go back to your boys. I can handle myself.”
Although she’s full of anger, she looks so tiny and vulnerable. I get a flash of my sister’s skin, marred by bruises. Hannah’s milky white skin would bruise so easily. Just a hand gripping too roughly on her arm would do it. Or at her throat. I don’t want to walk away. I want to stand here and make her see sense. I want the world to be different so she doesn’t feel that she has to work in a place like this. I want to make her see that she can do so much better.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her all this, but then I think of Lana and what she suffered at the hands of a brute who never let her make her own decisions. For all my protective instincts, I have to do what she’s asked me, because if there’s one thing I won’t do, it’s force my will on her. She has the right to make her own decisions. She deserves the space to do that, too. I might not like what she decides, but I have to respect it because the alternative is to be an arrogant and patronizing asshole, and I’m not that man, especially not after what my family has been through.
In the booth, the team seems to have consumed nearly all the alcohol that was on the table. There are different girls on the stage now, and all eyes are on the action. Well, nearly all. Harrison looks like he wants to puke.
“Where the fuck did you go?” he asks. “You left me here to deal with these animals alone.”
I chuckle. The thought of Harrison having to fend off the multiple rounds of bullshit that have probably been thrown around is amusing, despite my black mood.
“I went to the men’s room and to get a drink.”
“I was going to send out a fucking search party for you.”
“These idiots giving you a hard time?”
“Something like that,” he says, wiping his hand over his face like he’s weary of life. “They keep giving me shit for not watching the strippers. But why the fuck would I want to eat hamburger when I’ve got steak at home?”
“You’re such a romantic,” I laugh.
“Jenna doesn’t have any complaints.”
“I think I might nominate you for boyfriend of the year.”
Harrison scowls. “You’re hardly stuffing dollar bills in thongs yourself.”
I nod. “I’m only here to show my face. That’s it.”
“Yeah. You sure about that?” Harrison grins.
“What’re you talking abo
ut?”
“I saw you, putting the moves on that waitress up there. You seen someone you might want to take home?”
My heart skitters in my chest. If Harrison saw me talking to Hannah, then maybe one of the others did too. I want to look for her in the bar, to see where she is, but I can’t risk him seeing me.
“She was asking me where we were from, that’s all.”
“And when you told her?”
“She went back to serving drinks. Where’s Connor?” I look around the bar and don’t see him anywhere.
“He’s off having a private dance.”
“Already?”
“Dude was on a mission from the moment he got in here. He said they do extras too.”
I raise my eyebrows, not because I’m really shocked. It’s pretty common knowledge that places like this step outside the legal boundaries sometimes. “Who’d he request a dance from?” I ask, expecting Harrison to say one of the strippers. Maybe that one in the angel wings. I bet he’d get a real kick out of deflowering an angel.
“There was a waitress at another table that he liked the look of.”
“A waitress.” As I say the words I feel sick to my stomach. I know it wasn’t Hannah. I was talking to her at the time. But the fact that the waitresses are involved in the hardcore side of this place has my gut clenching and my fists too. Does Hannah get involved in that shit? The barman says she works really hard for every cent she can make. Is that just tips in the bar, or extras behind the scenes?
I turn in the booth, using the girl on stage as an excuse to look around. She’s taken her red bra off and is hanging upside down on the pole. Her tits haven’t moved on her chest.
Fake.
I take a chance and scan for Hannah. It’s her beautiful natural hair that will help me identify her in the low light of the bar. I look at every waitress on the floor and I don’t see her. I even turn to look at the bar and she isn’t there. Maybe she’s gone to use the restroom. I turn back and gulp some Coke. I talk shit with Harrison for a few more minutes, all the while worrying about Hannah. When I look around the bar again, Hannah is still nowhere to be seen.
BIG D: A SPORTS ROMANCE Page 8
