Juggernaut

by K. S. Adkins

  Kissing her on the cheek, she ushers me into the kitchen where she promptly begins making me a meal I won’t eat.

  “Any news on Taylor?” she asks while dicing a tomato. I’m allergic to tomatoes, but she doesn’t seem to remember or care.

  One thing I will say about my parents, they are open-minded and right now? Blown out. Until Taylor, I was not open-minded. In fact, I was closed off and judgmental. The beauty of my parents is the news I’m about to share wouldn’t even phase them. “Her friend, Hillary, invited me to a party at a strip club where Taylor will be in attendance.”

  “Not starring?” he jokes, and I frown. “Jesus man, lighten up.”

  “No, she won’t be the entertainment.” At least I don’t think she’ll be. “It’s a party I guess, and Hillary said they need a man to get in so she nominated me, thus giving me the chance to speak to her.”

  “The Shit sure knows how to party,” she smiles. The woman lives for parties and she knows all about The Shit, in detail. She is fascinated and completely smitten with Taylor. As is my father.

  While I didn’t deserve their loyalty, I was committed to earning it.

  Bottom line, is they both deserved better from me and it was time for me to reconnect with the two people who loved me without exception. Which brings me back to Taylor, who had done the same.

  “I’ll go, but I don’t think it’s the best place to have a discussion about our future.”

  “Why not?” he asks.

  “Alcohol, naked women. Shall I go on?”

  “You plan to look at them?”

  “Of course not,” I snap.

  “Then who cares? It’s a bar with tits, so what?”

  “Fuck,” I groan into my hand.

  “He’s coming around, Carol,” he praises.

  “Can we come, too?” she asks. “We love strip clubs and Taylor, it’s a two for one.”

  Yes, these wonderful people birthed me.

  “I wanted to say thank you,” I sigh. “For not casting judgement upon her, for seeing her as I do, and for your undying encouragement, no matter how twisted it may be. And for your advice, Dad. If all goes well, I’ll finally get to plead my case.”

  “And we lost him,” he rolls his eyes. “Son,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “That woman was devastated when she climbed in the car. She had been humiliated in front of a room full of strangers during a party she orchestrated to make your mother happy. We’ve been hearing about her for over two years now, and not once have you ever said she wasn’t reasonable. She’s hurting, lost, and probably wanting to spare you any, what she believes to be, further embarrassment. Of course, it’s ridiculous because we love awkward situations, but women are sensitive like that.”

  “Hey,” she argues. “We may be sensitive, but we also do what needs to be done. We do the things that you men are too afraid to do. Like spouting off wishes so my son could spend time with the woman he loves. You men need a push, and lucky for you we have two feet to kick you with. She fell in love with you, Evander, fake engagement or not. Taylor St. James would say yes in truth, if you only asked. The woman I saw knock Whitney on her ass did it to defend you and your family. You will be at that strip club, and you will be there with flowers.”

  I knew flowers were a good idea!

  “Are you sure we can’t come?” he smiles.

  “If she takes me back, I promise we’ll have my bachelor party at a strip club. Does that pacify you?”

  “My boy,” he says on a grin.

  “My son is going to win his woman back at a strip club,” she sighs. “This would make a great Hallmark movie.”

  Laughing for the first time in two weeks, I join my parents for a dinner I am actually hungry for (minus tomatoes) and even stay for drinks.

  By eight p.m., I am even calling them Mom and Dad without conscious effort.

  By ten-thirty, I’ve even smoked a joint with my dad.

  At eleven, mom makes munchies.

  By midnight, I’m positive I was hallucinating.

  And by two a.m., I’m glad that I did.

  Because Sugar was right.

  I do know.

  I’ve had the answer all along.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I growl at Hillary. “You can’t enjoy a lap dance with four girls on you. You’re ruining the experience!”

  “Wanna bet?” she challenges while palming asses.

  “I need another drink.”

  Waving the server over, I waste no time slamming it back and asking for more doubles. Only Hillary would demand a divorce party at a strip club. The same Hillary who has been four dancers deep for the last hour. When I said, I’d treat her to a dance, I didn’t mean a nonstop naked conga line. God, she is so lucky I love her.

  “So,” Sugar says slapping my ass. “Talk to Evander yet?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me this. What’s the point of granting everyone else’s wishes if you’re not going to make your own?”

  “Who says I haven’t?”

  “Have you?”

  “Tonight is about Hillary so we’re tabling this discussion.”

  “And tomorrow will be about India, and Sunday will be about me,” she argues. “Sometimes you make it really hard to be your friend, Taylor.”

  “That’s a shitty thing to say,” I counter.

  “But no less true,” she says handing me a drink.

  “I come to you guys when I need –”

  “Name a time,” she challenges. “Name one time you ever needed us for anything.”

  “Are we keeping score?”

  “Yes,” India says nudging me from behind.

  “Not you, too,” I groan. “You’re Switzerland for fuck’s sake.”

  “She’s right, Taylor, and you know I rarely take sides.”

  At a loss, I start to go on the offensive when Hillary breaks inside the circle and asked, “What time is it?”

  “Ten forty-five,” I inform her. “Why?”

  “Remember when you said you would grant me a wish tonight no matter what it was?”

  “I thought I granted it when I brought you here, Hillary.”

  “Yeah, no,” she grins. “About that wish though, you never go back on your promise, right?”

  “Bitch, you know I don’t,” I defend.

  “Good!” she claps. “You’ve got ten minutes in the dressing room before you’re needed on stage.”

  “Hill –”

  “Dance for me, Taylor,” she begs. “Show me some skin and if you really shake it, there’s a twenty in it for you.”

  “I’m going to go find my husband’s lap and sit on it,” India declares. “Do me proud, Taylor!”

  “I’m taking notes,” Sugar says firmly. “Don’t fuck this up for me. Oh, and wear a thong.”

  “I am not wearing another dancer’s thong, I’m wearing my own,” I promise her, then facing Hillary, I beg, “Let me out of the promise.”

  Getting in my face, which given her height, isn’t possible, but the intent is there, she says, “Misery has been my best friend for a long time, Taylor. But you’ve been my best friend longer. You loved me, supported me, and pushed me at my lowest and because of you, I’m happy again. You’re not. I’ve never seen you more miserable. I’m sorry, but you are seriously depressing. The Shit has never seen you dance. Let us cheer you on, support you for a change, and if you take your top off, I’ll get your name tattooed on my ass. Those long fucking legs were meant to be wrapped around a pole.”

  “My full name,” I make clear. “Including the middle, and any aliases I may have.”

  “Do you have aliases?”

  “Guess you’ll find out,” I wink.

  “Love you, Taylor,” she whispers, then hugs me. “Don’t forget to tell the DJ what you want to dance to. Oh, and Tay?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Full juggernaut, bitch.”

  Am I really going to do this?

  Hell yes I am!

  The juggernaut stretches
inside me, and I feel her excitement. It’s the first time in two weeks she bothered to rouse at all.

  I’ve been waiting outside for ten minutes when Hillary texts me to come inside, giving the doorman my name.

  Handing over my coat and leaving a tip, I allow my eyes to adjust as the bouncer escorts me to the party.

  Right away, I noticed everyone is here, except Taylor.

  Ready to turn around and leave, Hillary pats the seat next to her. “Sit your ass down, Evander. You’re just in time for main event.”

  “Where is – ” I begin to say when I hear a man announce that Buttercup is coming to the stage for one night only, followed by the sound of motorcycles revving. As blistering loud as it was, my focus was the stage name. Just as I’m about to ask what is happening, the curtain opens and cheers erupt as Taylor struts out in the highest heels I have ever seen. They were perfectly clear like crystal with straps that wound around her ankles. Her beautiful fucking ankles. My eyes traveled up her bare legs and my mouth went dry at the sight of her red leather mini skirt. If that wasn’t enough, her top was scandalously perfect too. She had heavy makeup on her eyes and lips, huge teased hair and confidence. So much fucking confidence. When she pulled a chair to the very front of the stage, I didn’t even blink for fear of missing what came next. The engines revved again and Taylor, pointed to her girls who were screaming from our booth and slapped her own ass, which made them wild. And then she straddled the chair…

  When her eyes settled on me, I witness shock turn to surprise, and surprise to determination. I knew she was going to dance for me. Taylor planned to show me who she was and then she expected me to be disappointed. In this, she wanted to be right when she was so very very wrong. I was here for her and was not leaving without her.

  The crowd was rowdy and the constant revving had the place at a fever pitch. Spreading her long legs wide and arching her back, Taylor whips her head around in a quick circle sending hair everywhere. And then the song started…

  Beside me, Hillary screams, “It’s our fucking lady jam!”

  Sugar jumps up, raises her fist, chanting, “Girls, girls girls!”

  Followed by India, who adds, “Long legs and burgundy lips!”

  Even Scott yelled, “Red lips, fingertips!”

  As for me, I stood there reliving what it was like the first time I laid eyes on her. Remembering how powerful it was. How she was so elegant, so graceful and free. Not once did she hide herself from me. Taylor was art. Priceless. And extremely fucking flexible…

  In 1987, this song and video inspired erections for the entire male population, myself included. But what Taylor was doing took strip tease to fantasy and beyond comprehension. What she did to that chair and pole were beyond my comprehension. Missing her had been painful. Knowing she could do this and not reaping the benefits sooner? Excruciating!

  Daring the crowd, she slowly pulls her top off, tossing it to Hillary who looks ready to pass out from excitement. In only a lace bra that barely contains her, I watch men throw hundreds of dollars on stage, hoping she went all the way. She was spilling out of her bra now and all the way might kill me.

  Turning her back to them, to us, she struts twice before using one arm to grab the pole, using her own momentum to flip herself upside down. I am lost in a place where it’s just the two if us in this room. In a series of twists and a final slide to the floor, she hooks one leg and literally proceeds to climb right back up. Spinning so fast, so flawlessly, when she lands I expected her to be dizzy. She isn’t. She’s in the zone.

  Then she got on her knees, seductively crawled across the stage and opened her mouth to me. Without even looking at my money clip, I snagged what was in it and slid it between her lips. After stuffing the cash in her skirt, she winks at me then trails her nail down my chest. As only Taylor could do, she eases to her back, thrusts her hips up twice, then rolls to her stomach, facing me once more while licking her lips.

  Giving her the biggest smile I possess, I yell out, “That’s my woman!” and watched as want fills her features. Using one finger, she calls her girls up and laughing, Scott swats his wife on the ass then comes to stand next to me.

  The Shit is now on stage dancing on each other, smiling, and letting Taylor lead. When the song changes to Juvenile’s Back That Azz up, the three girls step aside and Taylor takes right the fuck off. With her hands on her knees she sends the crowd into a frenzy as she works her ass to the beat. The girls joined in and the four of them were in perfect synch.

  Leaning in, Scott says, “They’re something, right?”

  “She sure as hell is,” I reply never taking my eyes off her.

  With Hillary nodding, Taylor unzips her skirt shimmying it down just enough to give the audience a peek and me a stroke.

  Running her hands between her thighs she throws her head back while pushing her chest out at the same time.

  The Shit takes the audience by storm with Hillary taking Sugar’s bra off with her teeth, Sugar grabbing Hillary’s ass, India dancing only for her husband, and Taylor dancing for me.

  Wondering what happens next, who would go topless and who wouldn’t, the music ends and it’s over. My God…how did I ever live without her?

  Hillary and Sugar redress while India exited the stage with Taylor leaving through the curtain. Ready to go to her, India says, “She’ll be out shortly, relax.”

  “Did you see that?” I say breathlessly.

  Smiling, she pats my shoulder and attacks Scott with her mouth.

  While the girls counted Taylor's earnings, I raised my hand to ask, “Who’s got a hard on?”

  Hillary, Sugar, India, and Scott roar with laughter and dammit, it feels good.

  Because these people are my family, too.

  The only one missing, I’m certain, is hiding from me.

  Several more minutes passed and Taylor still hasn’t come out.

  That means, I am going in.

  Here’s hoping she kept the shoes on and was in a forgiving mood.

  There are moments you find yourself at a crossroad.

  That fork in the road where, if you’re not careful, you’ll make the wrong turn.

  I currently have one foot straddling each side.

  Only I don’t know which road to choose.

  I only know I want that road to be the same one he is on. Problem is, I’m too afraid to take the first step. Because if I do and there is a roadblock…But he’s here, isn’t he? Which means the only one stopping me is me.

  I hated being indecisive. It wasn’t in my nature and wasted a lot of time.

  However, if you leave Evander Church waiting long enough he comes to you.

  Afraid to see disappointment or betrayal in his eyes, I choose to stare at the borrowed stilettos on my feet.

  When he whispers my name, I force myself to look up and stop short.

  He doesn’t look disgusted, but he’s wearing a look of loss and want.

  I know the look well because I see it every time I pass a mirror too.

  Closing my eyes, I feel him move closer, but I’m too scared to budge.

  Coming to stand behind directly me, he leans down and sets a bouquet of flowers in my lap.

  I stare at them so I wouldn’t be tempted to stare at him.

  “You were magnificent tonight,” he says gently while I say nothing. “You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen. The way you move, feel the music…you were born to move like that. I missed having you move like that on me. Do you know I had to threaten my parents not to come? They wanted to champion you as well.” At my continued silence, he begs, “Please, look at me, Taylor.”

  Facing him, I remind him of the gap between us. “I was a stripper, Van. I took my clothes off for tips. To start my own business, I danced here on weekends and held two other jobs during the week. Those booths wouldn’t buy themselves so I did what I had to do. I’m not ashamed, and I wasn’t withholding, I just…”

  “Would you do that for me at home? Minimum every nig
ht before bed.”

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Not really,” he says, pulling me up and into his arms, I don’t fight him, I go willingly. I’ve missed him too much to argue. “I’m imagining what a lap dance from you would be like.”

  “You’re suddenly okay with it?”

  “I was never not okay with it,” he says, then kisses my nose.

  “I saw the look of mortification on your face.”

  “I wasn’t mortified of you, I was mortified for you. Taylor, you left before I could speak to you.”

  “Wait –”

  “My mother waited tables in a biker bar to put my father through law school. How do you think they met? My father was the president of a biker club, Taylor. We all have pasts that make us who we are today. Except me. I’m a stereotypical boring man without you.”

  “Van –” I try.

  “Was your stage name really Buttercup?” he asks, nipping my lip.

  “Jesus,” I laugh. “Shut up.”

  “Because if it was, bravo.”

  “This is surreal.”

  “Taylor,” he says, tilting my chin up. “You’re still wearing my ring, you still love me, I know you do. I also know that you showed me your love in everything you did, but right here, right now, before I kiss you, I have to hear you say it.”

  Choking back the tears so I could say the words, he whispers my all-time favorite line, “That day, she was amazed to discover that when he was saying as you wish, what he meant was, I love you. And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back.”

  So he knows. He understands. At this, I’m undone. But Van, well, he isn’t finished.

  “I should have known,” he says softly. “I think…No, I knew. I did, Taylor, but I still need to hear” –

  Throwing my arms around him, I look in his eyes and finally say, “I love you.” When the time is right, I’ll tell my nieces and nephews the story about the night I told their uncle I loved him inside the dressing room of a strip club.

  Because it wasn’t about where you say it, it was about not letting another moment pass you by.

  “And?” he asks, tightening his grip.

  “And…you love me?”