by Nikki Chase
Some girls at the Pussy Cat didn’t have to strip. They just did it because they could make a lot more money that way than whatever minimum-wage job they could get. They earned a little more spending money while they got their college degrees. They could quit any time they want, and they often did.
Some, like me, had no other choice. I started stripping when Mom got diagnosed with cancer. The hospital bills became way too much for me to deal with, but I wanted her to get all the medical attention she needed. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if she’d died without getting the treatments she’d needed.
In the end, even though she did get the treatments and went into remission for a few months, the cancer still came back to invade her body once more. And this second time, it attacked her body with vengeance.
Not even the best treatments I could buy could save her. I must have spent tens of thousands of dollars on her doctor’s visits, pills, chemotherapy, and other hospital stuff. Still, when they lowered her lifeless body into the ground, I felt like I’d done all I could and I had no regrets.
Nancy didn’t have a sick family member. But in a way, she did need the money from stripping.
After Nancy’s father died, her mom had to cover the mortgage payments for the family home. Bertha had been a homemaker for decades and had no idea how to get the money.
At the time, Nancy was already going to college in San Francisco. She told Bertha she’d gotten a paid internship at a big company that would pay her enough money to cover everything.
Of course, in reality, the job market sucked and there was no way such an internship existed. Nancy stripped for the money and planned to stop as soon as the mortgage was paid off.
But by the time Bertha owned the house free and clear, Nancy had gotten in too deep.
She’d become entangled in an abusive relationship with Stan. And I knew she was using some drugs, too, although I had no idea which ones or how often. I knew, though, that drugs were expensive and she was probably depending on Stan’s money to keep herself well supplied.
Fuck Jacob. I have way more important things to worry about than a kiss. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.
I gulp down my morning coffee as fast as I can without burning my tongue. I didn’t sleep so well and I didn’t even hear my alarm ring; now I have to rush to school.
I grab my keys, quickly check my reflection in the full-length mirror by the door, and rush out the door. Just as I walk down the steps, I catch something out of the corner of my eye.
What the hell?
There, on the wooden bench on my porch, lays a body. A big, brawny body, covered by a light blanket.
Jacob.
Oh, shit.
Has he been sleeping there the entire night?
I glance at my watch.
Fuck. So much for forgetting the kiss after a good night’s sleep. Just looking at him right now, I feel a pull drawing me toward him, making me want to crawl under the blanket with him and nuzzle into his arms.
I so don’t have time for this. I have a job to do. I’ll deal with him later.
Chapter 20
Jacob
“Hey man, what a surprise. You’ve never called me first. I guess I'm finally growing on you, huh? Told you this was going to happen. It was just a matter of--”
“Shut up, Matt. I'm not in the mood today.” I give the webcam an annoyed look.
I dig deep into my supply of patience. I’m running low after the night I spent tossing and turning on Jessica’s hard bench. And to think she didn’t even bother to say hello this morning.
I don’t know what I expected from her; she behaved exactly like she had three years ago. She gave me one small, intoxicating taste of her, and then she took it all away.
I need to keep Matt happy if I want him to do this for me, so I try to go easy on the grump factor.
“You're never in the mood,” Matt says before he pauses. “There's a joke in there… Something something married guy walking into a bar.”
“Ha-ha. Yeah, that's funny,” I say without much mirth. “Can we move on?”
“Jesus. You want something from me, you need to sweeten me up first, man.”
“Look into a woman called Jessica Lake, will you? She's a high school teacher here in Ashbourne. She won't be hard to find. There's only one high school in town.” I ignore Matt’s bad jokes.
This is urgent and I need this done now. It's a matter of life and death. Well, potentially, at least. I know Jessica's being hunted by some people and she's scared. It's not a big stretch to assume that she's in mortal danger.
“Whoa, hold your horses,” Matt says. “Who is this woman? Is something weird going on in that town?”
“I don't have time to explain. Just do as I say. Please, Matt. You know I wouldn't have asked you if it wasn't important.”
Matt looks in the distance, beyond his webcam. Just when I think the video on the screen has frozen again, he says, “Jessica Lake, huh? When do you need her info?”
“Today. Right now. As soon as humanly possible.” I know he has to break a few rules to accomplish what I’m asking of him and it's not an easy decision. He could be putting himself at risk. I say, “Thanks, Matt. I really appreciate it.”
“Fuck. You're not getting mixed up in anything dangerous, are you?” Matt’s face is filled with concern and chagrin. “I’ve been telling you, man, this lifestyle of yours, with the traveling all the time and the fucking different women all the time, it's not sustainable. You can't keep doing it without running into problems eventually. What happened? You slept with the wife of some asshole? The girlfriend of some gang leader? The daughter of a corrupt town mayor?”
“Dude. I told you I don't have time to explain. Can we please just skip to the part where you're finding things out for me?” I stop myself from making a comment about how my life isn't a soap opera. It dawns on me that the position I’m actually in is just as ridiculous, so I shut my mouth.
“Okay. What do you want? Her criminal records, bank statements, tax filings, last Google searches?”
“Anything you can find. But most importantly I want to see what's on her phone.”
“Got it,” Matt says. “I’ll stop everything and work on this. I’ll call you when I have something.”
“Thanks, Matt. I hope your work won't suffer too much.”
“Eh, most of what I do isn't that important. Mr. Tanner has seen his mistress twice this week alone, so I already have a bunch of incriminating pictures for his wife. And don't tell Mrs. Potts, but I don't think we’ll find her poodle.”
I can't help but smile with amusement as the call ends and Matt’s face disappears from my computer screen.
Sounds like he takes on ridiculous, time-wasting cases. Apparently, the life of a private investigator is not as exciting as TV makes it seem. But I’d trade my one case with his many troublesome ones if I could.
It's killing me that Jessica is in danger and she’s doing her best to keep me from helping her. Well, too bad for her, I’m a stubborn motherfucker and I’m going to do this, with or without her permission.
“Matt?” I click the Accept Call button as fast as lightning. I’ve been trying to work all night, but I can’t concentrate because I keep thinking about what kind of trouble Jessica’s involved in, and the kiss we shared yesterday. That fucking kiss.
“Fuck you. You never picked up on the first ring before,” he says as soon as the video chat window flashes on the screen. He looks pissed off.
“Well, maybe I’m starting a new habit now.” I shrug and try to at least appear calm.
“I looked into your girl. She looks normal on the surface, but I get the feeling there’s some shady shit going on underneath.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t have anything concrete. It’s just little clues here and there, but enough to make me feel uneasy.” Matt takes his eyes off his paper printouts and stare right into his webcam. “Who is she?”
“Just
some girl.”
“Bullshit,” he says. “I’m going to tell you what I’ve found, but you’re going to have to be straight with me.”
“Fine.” I don’t have any choice. I do want whatever information Matt has and if I have to trade intel with him to get it, then so be it.
“Okay, let’s start from the lighter stuff.” Matt grins into the camera, knowing how impatient I am. “She’s been teaching at the high school for almost one year now. It’s her first teaching job. I can’t find any information on her previous employment, which is weird. Or anything before her move to Ashbourne, for that matter.”
“Okay.” I already know all those things. Jessica is obviously running away from something and she’s done pretty well in covering her tracks. I wouldn’t be surprised if she changed her name. I’m not wrong in my impression of her; she has a good head on her shoulders.
“Oh, and she’s on Tinder. So if you’re dating her, dude, condolences. She’s seeing other people.” I can hear Matt’s fingers clicking on various tabs and windows, while his eyes dart all over his screen. “She’s been chatting with a bunch of guys, but I could only find details of her meeting up with one guy. Steven Gordon. The guy sent her a text asking to meet up again but she’s been ignoring him.”
“Good,” I say.
“Good? So you are interested in her.” Matt grins as I realize my mistake. “I don’t blame you. She’s pretty cute, judging from the pictures I’ve seen.”
“I just meant that’s good information.”
“Sure,” Matt says, the shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. “There’s one guy she contacts a lot. Tony Humphries. Works at the same high school. They seem pretty close, but nothing in their texts or chats catches my attention.”
“Okay.” I assume this is the Tony who holds a copy of Jessica’s keys. So he’s another teacher. I wonder if they’re just co-workers or if there’s anything between them. As much as I want to know more about Tony, this is not the time to focus on irrelevant shit.
“Now, here’s where it gets interesting. Do you know who Nancy Jones is?” Matt taps his fingers like he usually does when he gets excited.
“No.”
“Well, she was a stripper at a club in San Francisco. She died. Killed by her boyfriend.” Matt pauses and grimaces. “It was gruesome. Anyway, there seems to be something connecting her to your girl.”
“In what way?”
“There was a mysterious email sent to your girl from a guy called Caine Foster. He wants to meet up, but it doesn’t seem like a date. He says he needs to talk about Nancy Jones. Jessica hasn’t responded, but the message seems serious.”
“That is interesting.”
“Okay, that’s what I got so far from checking out her phone. What else do you want me to look into? She has way more money than a high school teacher should, but that’s not necessarily a bad sign. She plays Candy Crush a lot, but I don’t think you’d be interested in that.”
Matt checks his notes to see if he’s missed anything. “Oh, another thing. There’s nothing on her phone dating from before she started teaching. Like, no saved emails, no old email addresses, no transferred contact details from her old phone. Nothing. I thought that was strange. It’s like she just came into existence about the same time she moved to Ashbourne.”
I nod and commit the details Matt has just shared to my memory.
“Anything you want me to look into further?”
“Yeah. Look into all three guys. The Tinder date, the teacher, and the email guy.”
“Did I just waste my day looking into your love rivals?”
“Please never use the term ‘love rivals’ again.” I wince, which only makes Matt laugh. “No, something’s going on with this girl. Something strange and dangerous. I don’t know what exactly.”
“Yeah. If you knew you wouldn’t have asked me,” Matt says. “I just have one question, though. Isn’t Pussy Cat the strip club where you met that girl with the red hair? The one you were obsessed with for months?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. I guess there’s no hiding it from Matt. Maybe it could even help him find some more useful information.
“Is this Jessica girl that stripper?”
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit! How did you even find her?” Matt looks incredulous. “I remember trying to help you with it but you didn’t even know her real name. You were all mopey for weeks.”
“It was a coincidence, believe it or not. I think she’s in real trouble, so please let me know if you find anything else,” I say, bringing the conversation back to the present.
“Yeah. Of course. I mean, this is interesting stuff. I’ve only just scratched the surface since I’ve only looked at her phone. But couldn’t you get this information from her if you’re helping her?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” I take a deep breath. “Call me when you find anything new.”
“Sure thing.”
I end the call and glance at the time. It’s almost ten. I should be working, but I just know I won’t be able to focus tonight, so screw it.
The break-in at Jessica’s happened at around this time of the night, so I may as well just head over there now. I grab my blanket and my gun before stepping out the door.
I walk up the steps to Jessica’s porch and wonder if it would be worth my time to knock on the door and talk to her, before I get comfortable on her bench—well, as comfortable as possible, anyway. But before I can decide, the door opens and she’s standing in the doorway, warm light pouring out from inside her home.
“I heard you sneezing from all the way inside. And the way you walk is really loud.” Jessica sighs when our eyes meet. “Are you planning to sleep on the porch again tonight?”
“Yeah.” I keep my gaze steady, showing her I’m not backing down. I’m guarding her house tonight and there’s nothing she can do to stop me.
“I don’t want people seeing you there and making assumptions about me. And I don’t want you blaming me when you get sick, so you can come in and sleep inside if you want.” Jessica pushes the door open a little wider as my mouth opens just as wide from the shock.
This is the last thing I expected. But I’d be stupid to say no.
Chapter 21
Jessica
I don’t know if I did the right thing, inviting him in like that. I hadn’t really thought it through. I’d been busy all day at the school, and I’d forgotten all about Jacob.
Well, maybe ‘forgotten’ is the wrong word. I’d certainly thought about Jacob—multiple times throughout the day.
I’d run my fingers over my own lips, trying to feel what Jacob must’ve felt when he’d kissed me. Every time I’d seen a guy’s back, I’d thought about how much broader, how much more solid, Jacob’s is. I’d summoned the memory of how his skin had felt on my fingers. I’d definitely wondered about why I’d never felt passion like that anymore, aside from when I’m with Jacob.
What I hadn’t done, however, was think about what to do about him sleeping on my porch. I’d delayed making a decision about that all day, thinking I was going to have more time later in the night to do so.
I mean, I didn’t even know he was going to sleep there again, so I didn’t feel like wasting my energy on it, when I had more pressing matters to attend to.
I was grading papers when I heard Jacob’s sneeze and his footsteps on the porch. And all I could think of was, I couldn’t let him sleep outside again.
I knew he wasn’t going to just leave. He was staying on my property whether I liked it or not. It wasn’t like I had the physical strength to remove him from the premises. And calling the cops on him seemed petty, considering he was trying to help me.
Yes, the thought did cross my mind that he still might be the guy responsible for everything in the first place. But that theory was starting to not make sense.
Why would Stan’s guy act like he’s clueless and on my side? Why spend an uncomfortable night on my porch? He probably woke up wi
th his body sore all over. Why wouldn’t he just grab me and take me to his boss, if he were really sent here by Stan? It doesn’t match up.
So, on impulse, I invited him inside. It all seemed to make sense last night.
And yet, this morning, I’m not so sure anymore.
I catch my first sight of him as I walk into the living room, his chest rising and falling with his breaths. The blanket has fallen off the couch and onto the floor. Max has claimed the blanket as his own, curling up on it, getting his fur all over it. No doubt Jacob will find random hairs on it for months to come, even after throwing the blanket into the washing machine.
Jacob’s wearing an old, faded grey shirt and a pair of navy blue sweat pants that outlines his morning wood perfectly. Seriously, those pants don’t leave much to the imagination.
His hands are lifted over his head, resting on the arm of the couch, pulling his shirt up. I can see the ridges of his lower abs, as well as the line of fuzz that starts from his belly button and disappears into his pants.
With him fast asleep, I can stare to my heart’s content.
God, that magnificent bulge in his pants… I want to reach out and touch it, stroke it, wrap my fingers around it. I want to feel my fingers dragging gently over his warm skin, sense every little tensing of his muscles underneath.
I want to jump on top of him. The dangerous thing is, I don’t think he’d mind.
This is all his fault.
I’d asked him to sleep in the guest room last night, but he’d insisted on sleeping near the front window so he’d be more sensitive to any strange sounds from outside.
I tear my gaze away from his sleeping form and tiptoe toward the kitchen, from where I can see the living room. I try to be quiet as I open the cabinet and grab a mug, but Jacob stirs when the coffee machine hums as it prepares my morning beverage.
