Dirty Laundry

by Lauren Landish

  “What’s it to you?” I growl, snapping the notebook closed.

  “You keep looking off into space lately, scribbling in that book. Got someone on your mind?” He raises his eyebrows toward Jake’s office, and it unsettles me. I’m sure he’s just fishing. How the hell could he know anything?

  “Why don’t you mind your own damn business?”

  Matt walks away, grumbling under his breath about moody bitches, and I’m pissed off. But more importantly, I’m wondering if he’s actually picked up on something. If he has, other people probably have also.

  After lunch, I get up and go knock on Jake’s door. Elena’s still out at lunch, but Jake just came back from downstairs, and if I’m going to have any private moments with him, this is the time.

  “Come in!”

  I step inside, closing the door quietly behind me. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he says back, giving me a smile that makes the warmth between my legs rise to a deep burn. I do my best to reserve myself, but it’s hard. He looks so handsome with his tie loosened and his hair ruffled from a fresh shower. He just finished his lunchtime workout. Watching his biceps flex as he fixes his shirt and tie, I remember how his lips and hands felt all over my body. The tension is so thick, I want to run and jump into his arms, sweep the stuff off his desk, and have him take me right here on top of his blotter.

  I blink, clearing my mind. I’m about to tell him that what happened in the elevator and later when we got down and dirty was a fluke, that it can’t happen again. Suddenly, he grins, holding up a hand. “Wait, I can see what’s in your eyes, and I’ll let you tell me, but first . . . I have a proposition for you.”

  “What?” I ask, hoping and also not hoping it’s for me to get on my knees under his desk. Because I just might do it if he asks.

  “Nathan’s been going gaga all weekend, and I have too. We want to put you as a drawing act. One night on the weekends. You said you love to sing. The pay would be good. Not better than here, but it’s only one night a week.”

  I stand in shock. I hadn't expected something like this. Sexual? Sure. But to sing . . . “Oh, my God.”

  “The people loved you. Nathan and I were shocked by how many people requested for you to come back. Seriously, you should see the club’s Facebook page. There’s over three hundred likes to someone requesting that you sing some more. They want you.”

  His eyes gleam, seeming to say, And I want you too.

  I breathe, still stunned. The tune of the song I’ve begun writing for him hums in my head. Staring at his face, I realize I can’t say no to him. I’m weak in the knees. But I also don’t know if I should say yes.

  “Well?” he says, taking his seat behind his desk and giving me that same smile. “I know you want this.”

  I stand there, leaning against his office door, uncertain. The fact is, music to me is like an addiction. It was so hard to walk away from it last time. I spent weeks unable to sleep on Fridays and Saturdays because those were my performance nights. I still wake up sometimes with a little voice inside me wondering where the stage is, where the crowds are.

  If I do this, I don’t want that to happen again. Jake doesn’t know what he’s asking for. I’ll have to train again. Vocal exercises, getting my body back in shape to maintain the high energy performances that I have to do . . . wardrobe, practicing lyrics, all of it. How’s it going to affect my work?

  I tried the club scene before, and it went nowhere but having one club love me. This can’t be much different. Sure, I’m excited right at this moment, and yeah, Club Jasmine loved me Friday night, but once people got used to me, it would die down. I’d be right back to being a local act and that’s it.

  Still, maybe it’s enough. The idea of singing, of being on stage . . . even if it’s not my name selling out big shows, it feeds a piece of my heart. When I sing, I put my soul out there, vulnerable and excited to see if the audience will respond with cheers. And I can see Jake genuinely wants me to do it. Damn me, there’s a part of me that wants to please him, too. Finally, I take a deep breath and look into his expectant eyes.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Jake

  I hate the smell of cigar smoke. Sure, it’s got the whole alpha male mystique attached to it, but damn if most cigars don’t smell like burning dirty undershirts.

  Tell that to Nathan, though. “We’re looking at recouping our investment and turning a working profit within six months,” Nathan says over a haze of his cigar smoke. Thank God we’re up here where nobody except security is allowed and the air conditioners can deal with his disgusting habit.

  “Show me the money,” I say, sitting back and rubbing my hands in relief that this is going well. I was half-expecting for us to fall flat on our faces. I knew the market. So many clubs fail. But everything is turning out better than I dreamed.

  “We’re killing it, Jake!” Nathan says, grinning while sipping on some champagne, “And with karaoke night being a success, I think we should adopt it regularly. By the way, did your girl say yes about doing weekends?”

  My girl. The thought is strange, but I like the sound of it. After I tasted her, after I filled her up and carried her to bed, I know that Nathan’s right. Even now, I can’t stop thinking about her.

  “She said she would think about it.” I don't point out that she isn’t my girl. She will be soon enough.

  “Think about it?” Nathan asks, surprised. “Didn’t you say she was crazy about singing? What gives?”

  I think back to what she told me and what I saw in her room. “She has some hang-ups. She’s been burned before. But I think she’ll come through.”

  Nathan shakes his head and puffs some more cigar smoke toward the ceiling. “Shit, I hope so. Those people were in fucking love with her! She rocked that stage like nobody’s business. Shit, Beyoncé who? Selena what? Fuck that skank bitch Miley Cyrus. I’m telling you, man, Roxy should be a household name! One name too. She’s gonna be so big if you say Roxy, the whole fuckin’ world knows who we’re talkin’ about.”

  I sit back, sipping my own champagne and chuckling to myself. It’s funny how Nathan went from calling her a sleazy broad to this. But I don’t blame him. Part of that is Nathan. He’s always been one to do a lot of shit talking until he really likes you. Most of it is Roxy, though. Her taking this gig will end up doing big things for her. I can just feel it.

  I chuckle. “Brother, I totally agree. She is pretty amazing, isn’t she?”

  Andre’s voice crackles over the small walkie Nathan carries. “Hey, I think that creepy dude is back at his shit.”

  My heart jumps in my chest as we both leap to our feet, Nathan just a fraction of an inch faster in snatching the radio up. “Where?” Nathan almost yells.

  Andre’s voice crackles back. “At the bar. Near the bathrooms. He’s wearing a fucking purple blazer. Can’t miss him.”

  We both take off, Nathan running ahead of me, pumping his shorter legs as fast as they will allow. I’m behind him simply because I don’t want to send him tumbling down the stairs. It’s early still, and the club isn’t quite packed since it’s just a Thursday night. We reach the foot of the stairs and I reach out, grabbing Nathan’s shoulder. “Wait!”

  “What?” he asks, turning. “Let’s go bust this motherfucker!”

  “No doubt,” I reply, “but we need to make sure we don’t freak everyone out. Go chill, okay?”

  Nathan takes a big breath but nods. “Fine, I’m chill. Now where is he so I can go unchill?”

  We look, and I see him first at the bar, that loud blazer making him stand out. He’s pressuring some girl who’s saying no in heavily-accented English.

  The game is up, though, when the girl’s eyes flicker over to Nathan and me in desperation and the guy turns. Seeing us, he takes off. Nathan flies through the crowd while I cut at an angle. He’s so busy looking behind him for Nathan that I barely have to do anything to grab his arm and spin him around, locking him in an armlock with my other hand g
rabbing the back of his horrendous jacket. “Shouldn’t have come back,” I say in a threatening tone.

  “Let me go, man!” the guy whines, squirming in my grasp. “I didn’t do nothing!”

  “You’re full of shit, you . . .” Nathan yells before he lowers his voice, getting up close to the guy as I start pulling him toward the door. “You’re fucking scum of the earth,” Nathan rasps.

  Nathan leads the way to the side door as we drag the guy outside. I see John, one of the security guys, covering our back, which I’m glad for. The former Delta Force operative can make sure we don’t take things too far.

  “Is this your thing, going around and drugging women in clubs?” Nathan demands as I hold onto the guy. “How many?”

  The guy sputters, trying to play it innocent. “I didn’t drug nobody. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re lying, asshole,” I rasp in his ear, jerking him around. “I drank one of your little spiked beers. So Nathan, what do we do to him?”

  “You already know my answer. I say eye for a fuckin’ eye,” Nathan growls, cracking his knuckles. “He wants to drug and fuck women? I say we make him a bitch.”

  Nathan’s threat makes the man struggle wildly, and he jerks his head back, catching me on the lip. I feel my lip split, and I grunt in pain as I pull my head back, loosening my grip just enough that the guy breaks free.

  He takes off, trying to make a run for it, but Nathan’s quick for his size and tackles him around the knees, taking him down to the ground. Before Nathan can move, though, the guy kicks Nathan in the shoulder and tries to get up before my flying bodyweight drives him onto his back on the concrete.

  I pop him once in the face, his head rocking back and hitting the concrete. I rear back again, but Nathan grabs me, pulling me off.

  “He’s done, man!” he says. “His head went down pretty hard. You keep going and you’ll be talking with the cops.”

  He’s right. Adrenaline just kind of took over. “John, call the cops,” I say.

  “Just a second,” Nathan says, turning and punting the guy as hard as he can in the ass. He howls in pain, and I gotta believe that a size eight pointy wing tip up your ass has to hurt. “Get this fucking piece of shit outta here!”

  After the cops come by, we go back in the club, where we’re both treated to a standing ovation and cheer from the patrons—the story’s spread that fast. “See, brother?” Nathan says, patting me on the back. “Take out the trash, and the people love you!”

  It’s just after midnight when I walk into my apartment. I know I look like hell. I’m wearing another torn shirt, and I’ve got a bruised hand to go with my busted lip. Icing it helped some, but I’m going to look strange in the office tomorrow.

  As I step into the living room, I surprise Sophie, who quickly flips her tablet face down on the sofa. “Jake,” she says, jumping up, her eyes looking furtive and nervous. “I didn’t know you’d be back so early.”

  I’m sure I just caught her doing something, but my brain is too overloaded to consider what it could have been. “It’s after midnight, Soph. What were you doing?”

  Sophie’s guilty look makes me more curious as she shifts from side to side. “I was just watching this gross video. You know, girl stuff, disgusting, really. You wouldn’t wanna see it.”

  I can tell she’s lying, but I’m too exhausted and emotionally drained to push the issue. Instead, I remind myself to keep a closer eye on her. “Well, you’ve got school tomorrow.”

  Sophie squints her eyes, peering at me. “Jake, your lip . . . what the hell happened to you?”

  I shrug, not wanting to go into it. “Just some club business. Roughed up some douche.”

  “What the fuck?” Sophie asks, shocked. “Jake, you got into a fight?”

  I shake my head. “Remember when I said I got drugged? Same asshole came in tonight, trying the same angle on some girl.”

  Sophie grins, going into the kitchen to return with a popsicle, which she hands to me. “Glad you got him.”

  I take the frozen treat gratefully. “I am, too. We already called the police, and the girl he’d been stalking tonight gave a statement. His ass is going down for a while.”

  I put the popsicle against my lip, sitting down on the couch. I pat the spot beside me, saying nothing when Sophie moves her tablet out of the way. She sits, curling her leg underneath her, and I give her a lopsided smile. “So what’s been going on with you?”

  “Oh, you know, just school work, the usual,” Sophie says. “Oh, I got a B on that test you were hyping me on.”

  “Did you? That’s great,” I reply, feeling a little bit bad. I haven’t been able to spend as much time with Sophie as I’d like. I’ve been so busy with the club, and when I have been home, I’ve been distracted so often by thoughts of Roxy. “And you’re getting along well?”

  “It’s okay, really. I mean, I’ve been thinking of joining the track team, so I’ve been able to get along, make some new friends.”

  Track, huh? That is new for Sophie. “Well, I want you to know that I love you and as soon as I get a hole in my schedule, we’re gonna do something special.”

  That makes Sophie grin, and she gives me a hug. “Oh, thank you, Jake! You know, I was really hoping you could take me to—”

  Before she can answer, there’s a buzz on my phone. “One sec,” I say, holding up finger. I pull out my phone to see a text from Roxy.”

  Fuck it. I’m in. Next week?

  “What’s that?” Sophie asks curiously.

  I shake my head. I knew she couldn’t resist. I’ll get that spark to ignite in her if that’s the last thing I do. I quickly hit reply.

  I knew you’d pull thru. Incidentally, we caught that creep. He won't be spiking anymore drinks. Talk details tomorrow at the club, nine thirty.

  Buzz.

  Thank God. I owe u 1. 9:30 OK.

  “Jake?”

  “Just some club business,” I half-lie to Sophie, sitting back and relaxing on the couch with a satisfied sigh. I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Now, where were you saying you wanted to go? I’m thinking Sunday would be a great time for some ‘us’ time.”

  Roxy

  “Lalalala . . . la la lah lah-la,” I sing, doing my vocal exercises to open my throat. Standing in front of the mirror in my room, I know I look stupid, but it’s what I have to do. Ever since agreeing to perform, I’ve been getting my voice in shape, torturing Hannah and Mr. Felix with my late night and early morning exercises.

  I’m going to have to change into my outfit soon. It’s my first night where I perform my own set, and I’m feeling the nerves. “Mimimimimi . . . eeeeoooahhhchchch—” I cough and start choking a little. I pushed that last low note a little lower than I really needed to. “Fuck.”

  “Damn, girl, sounds like you’re gargling a mouthful of cock,” jokes Hannah. “Keep that up and Mr. Felix might decide to attack. He’s about to lose it in here. He’s rolling around and giving me faces.”

  Going to the door, I look over to see Mr. Felix mean mugging me, looking like he wants to scratch my face off. I’ve already learned to avoid making the ‘ssss’ sound with my vocal exercises if he’s around. The last time I did it, he hissed back and nearly clawed my leg to pieces. This time, though, it helps. I place my hands on my hips and throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, I so needed that, thank you. I can’t believe I’m so nervous!”

  Hannah chuckles. “If it helps, I am too. Still can’t believe you agreed to do this, but at the same time, I’m happy for you.”

  I’m excited. I still can’t believe I’m getting to do it again. I’d given up on it. And I know I shouldn’t have accepted Jake’s offer because of everything it entailed, but being up there on stage brought me back to life. That place in my spirit I thought I’d lost forever is back.

  “Thank you, Hannah. And thank you for being there tonight.”

  “Don’t thank me, just please don’t sound like this on stage? The free drinks can on
ly go so far.”

  I laugh and go get ready. I already know exactly what outfit I want to wear. It was the same one I wore for my best performance ever at Trixie’s. With a frilly, lightweight skirt that’ll flare some when I spin and a sparkly red top that hugs my curves, I feel sexy. I pull up the thigh-high sheer stockings and boots that complete the outfit, giving myself a once-over in the mirror. “Oh, yeah,” I tease, shaking my hair side to side. “I’m gonna have them in the palm of my hand!”

  You know what you want in the palm of your hand . . . and in your mouth, my inner voice says, and I blush, thinking about it. Kinda shaped like a microphone too, with a long, hard shaft and a flared head that you want to . . .

  I curse myself to focus on the task at hand. Just as I finish lacing up my left boot, my phone rings. Checking, I see it’s Mindy. “Hey, babe!”

  “Ooh, someone sounds excited. What’s going on?” Mindy asks. I bite my lip. I haven’t told anyone about this, but Mindy’s always been supportive of me.

  “Well, I’m getting ready for an event,” I answer.

  “Oh? Who’re you going to see? I’m glad you’re going out to have some fun.”

  “Uh, it’s for me,” I say nervously, holding my breath while I wait for her to reply. “Min?”

  “Roxy, I’m so happy for you!” Mindy exclaims, and I feel relief rush over me. “I always thought your totally giving up singing was too much. So tell me, what’s the gig?”

  “Nothing big, just a local nightclub,” I reply. “It’s a bigger place than Trixie’s, but really, it’s just a once a week little gig. About an hour total.”

  “Just a little gig,” Mindy mocks me, laughing. “So you’re going to tear up the stage and break hearts for an hour. Remember, I’ve heard you. You’re gonna have everyone eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Mindy laughs. “Come on, don’t be nervous. Just go out there, Rox the place out, and tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?”