by Nana Malone
But there was also the issue of her owning a strip club. After watching his father run around with strippers since he was a kid, he made himself a promise that he wasn’t going to do the same. None of those women had ever made the old man happy. His father had a type—blonde, big tits and knew how to work a pole. Problem was none of those women stuck. Especially not when the old man got sick. No. The last one had abandoned him amidst cancer treatments. Serena wasn't a stripper obviously, but she was too close to it. Closer than he'd ever be comfortable with. But strip club owner or not, he was protective of her.
As much as he admired Mark, the guy was a notorious womanizer. He couldn't help himself with the girls. It was a problem. Always chasing the bright, shiny new toy. And Serena would get hurt.
It wasn't because Tyson was so desperate to have her himself that he couldn't think straight. Not at all.
For all intents and purposes, Serena wasn’t going to happen. Besides, Xavier, had given him the investment capital to get his father's struggling business off the ground again. Not a good call to repay favors by screwing with someone's little sister.
It still pinched that he'd had to go to his friend for help. Not like Xavier hadn't volunteered and had gotten real pissed off when Tyson had said no. Three times. But eventually Tyson had come to terms with his father's illness and what he had to do to save the business. So he'd accepted the money.
But this week, he'd officially pay off the loan. He'd planned a quick trip out to New Orleans to settle the debt. He obviously could have just sent a check or wired the money, but it would be so much more satisfying doing it in person.
Xavier had never once asked for the money, never hinted at it, never even brought it up. But Tyson knew. It weighed on him every day. Now he was in a position to pay back the gift of a life raft and finally go back to college. He needed to stay focused on that, and not on Serena.
Mark snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Hey, man, you paying attention, or you watching her ass?"
Tyson growled at his friend under his breath. Mark was completely unaffected. "Don't be mad at me just because you haven't yet. Shit or get off the pot."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"You think I don't notice that you only do this particular inventory and delivery yourself, when I'm perfectly capable of managing it? And don't give me that bullshit about keeping tabs on her or whatever. You and I both know you want her. What I want to know is why you can't seem to pull the trigger already. I mean, the worst she can say is no."
"It's complicated," he muttered.
His friend laughed. "You think her brother’s going to kick your ass? Yo, there are some things worth getting an ass kicking for. And Serena might be one of them."
Mark wasn't wrong there. "Can we just get this done? Besides, there’s more to it than that."
"If you say so. But I warn you, if you don't do something about her, someone else will, and then you'll be standing around with your dick in your hand."
"I can help you with that."
Tyson sighed at the throaty voice behind him. He knew it well. Amber. If that was her real name. She was one of the dancers, and she'd made her interest more than blatant.
"Hi, Amber." Strictly speaking, she was stunning. Tall, stacked and clearly comfortable with her body. But she held no appeal. Zero. He preferred his women more…subtle.
"Tyson, were you going to come and say hi?"
"I didn't know you were working today," he hedged.
She gave him a sweet smile, and he could see why she was one of the more popular dancers. She was an excellent actress. "Oh, come on. I moved my schedule around so I'd be on when you were here."
"Interesting.” That was funny because he'd moved their delivery time earlier so he could still see Serena...and avoid Amber. He'd dated enough girls like her to know they were trouble. Beautiful, and with their own agenda. He would tell her he didn't date strippers, but he didn't want to alienate her. He'd be here a lot because of Serena. Best to keep the peace. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm working."
"And you have my number, but you never seem to call me when you're not working." She trailed her fingertips up his chest.
He knew the action was supposed to be enticing, but somebody should probably tell his dick that. As annoyed as he was, he wanted to be careful with her feelings. After all, he did value his contract here, even if he didn't need it anymore. And he didn't want to make shit difficult for Serena in any way. "I'm always working. And I'm about to start classes, so there's not a lot of time for dating."
"Who said anything about dating?"
Yeah, who'd said anything? his dick protested in a flicker of interest. It had been a long time since he'd worked out the kinks, three months maybe. Hell, he couldn't remember. And it hadn't been great anyway. Just some girl he'd picked up in a bar. She'd looked like Serena. Maybe that was his problem. He'd slept with her, but the whole thing had left him...unsatisfied. He'd still woken up with that gnawing, craving feeling…and not for the woman in his bed.
"Every woman deserves a guy who wants to shower her with attention. Right now, I'm not that guy." And that was the truth.
Her face fell, but she whispered, "Where the hell were you when I was nineteen?"
Struggling to keep his father above water with the medical bills and keeping the business afloat. He wouldn't have been that guy then either. But he didn't tell her that. "Dunno."
She shifted in her heels as if she didn't know what to do with herself. "Okay. I hear you. Maybe sometime you'll be that guy." Probably not. But again, he kept that to himself. "But, even if you're not that guy, why don't you come by sometime? I'll put you on as my guest, free shows in my room?"
"Maybe sometime."
She sauntered away, and he exhaled.
Mark laughed as he handed him the inventory slip. "My, to be Tyson Leigh for a day. So much pussy thrown your way, you're turning it down. Want to tell me what was wrong with Amber?"
Stripper. Desperate, inauthentic. Not Serena. "Nothing. Just not interested."
He was more excited to see Serena for dinner than at the prospect of seeing Amber naked. Yeah, he knew it. He needed help.
2
"Honestly, Serena, it wasn't that bad. It could have been worse."
Serena knew Micha was trying to be helpful, but she didn't want to hear it. "How? How could that have gone any worse?"
Micha winced. "Well, he could have laughed." She paused. "Like I wanted to."
Serena glared at her, but she couldn't contain the giggle bubbling forth. "Oh my God, if that had been you with Caleb, I would have laughed so hard."
"I know. You're lucky cousin code won over hilarity today. Because it was right there. Hysterical laughter on tap."
Serena covered her face and let the hooting, cackling cry take over as they plopped into the plush, white leather chairs in Morton's boutique in Georgetown. "I mean, even I wanted to laugh. God, what is wrong with me? Why can't I just be normal around him?"
"It's because you lurv him. And that's okay. I mean, you've wanted him for ages."
"Yeah, but I'm too chicken shit to ever do anything about it, so this is my life now, stuck trying not to embarrass myself for the millionth time. Not to mention he's not the kind of guy I need to end up with. He's sexy as sin, but he doesn't fit the list criteria."
After the Aidan debacle, she'd made herself a list of characteristics she wanted from her next guy. Some of which Tyson fit. Financially stable. Put her needs before his. Nice guy. Zero edge. Stable. Rock solid. Never asks for money. Made her feel good about herself. Not super good-looking. Tyson would have made the mark, except he was so beautiful it hurt to look at him. Although, he still failed the most important criteria of all, must not be Xavier’s friend. When things had gone bad with Aidan, she'd worried about how the breakup would affect his friendship with her brother. He'd begged her not to go out with his friend, but she hadn't listened. Clearly she should have.
In a lot of ways Ty was a lot like Aidan. Women loved him... just like Aidan. Her self-esteem didn't need the headache. Ty had tats and an attitude which said, Hey I'm a little bit dangerous. Again, not high on her list of wants. And he and X were as close as brothers, so there was that.
"The list again? Oh come on. Do you really think I walk around feeling hot and sexy all the time?" Micha gestured to herself as she slipped off a pair of gorgeous navy-blue Jimmy Choos.
"Come on. You’ve always been confident. It's not that easy for the rest of us. When it comes to work, sure. It's just the rest of my life that's a problem."
"Maybe not, but I'm not always like this. I mean, Caleb made me nervous. Hell, sometimes he still does. When he pins me with his intense stare, I stutter and fumble too. The whole point is, you gotta fake it till you make it. You remember Ricca right?"
Ricca and Jaya were Micha's friends from San Diego. They'd all gone to college together. Yeah. Serena remembered Ricca as sweet and adorable.
"Well, she's shy too."
"I find that difficult to believe." The only time she'd ever met Ricca, she'd had some six-foot-five, golden god practically surgically attached to her. He'd watched her with a ridiculous intensity. What Serena wouldn't give for someone to look at her like that. Not just the sexual attraction, but that love and warmth too. At Micha’s engagement party, they'd had to…excuse themselves…twice. Ricca didn’t seem shy when she came back with mussed hair and a wide grin.
"Well, she's not always like that. Being with Beckett helps. The point is, when she's not feeling it, she fakes it."
"Well, if that's shy, then I want to learn how to fake it too. I mean, I won't be you, but I can't keep doing this expecting something to change."
Micha handed her a pair of shoes. They were canary yellow with a green sparkling trim on the heel. They screamed, Look at me. Look at me.
"Uh, I'm not sure those are me."
"Of course they aren't, but we're going to try on a whole bunch of shoes until you find a couple of pairs that are you. Since you’re now a business owner, you're going to need to dress the part. Less shy nineties nerdy heroine, and more nerdy vixen. Shoot, be unapologetic of who you are. These shoes are a start. You just need a little boost. And nothing makes a woman feel sexier than a pair of stilettos."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Hands down."
Turned out her cousin wasn't wrong. After some of the most outrageous pairs of shoes she'd ever slipped her feet into, she found three that were fun and flirty but still her. She liked that navy pair. After all, they were functional, and she'd be able to wear them with everything from a dress to skinny jeans. She picked a taupe pair with hot pink accents as well. They were just fun. They didn't go as well with everything, but she didn't give a damn. And her final pair the attention getters, would be great for a date. Vermilion-red Louboutins. No muss, no fuss, just a black stripe going down the back and the signature red-bottomed heel. She hated it when Micha was right, because after an hour and a half of trying on shoes, she felt better. As she walked out of the boutique with her annihilated budget, she felt good.
She dropped Micha off at her hotel before heading back towards the subway to catch the train to Adams Morgan.
It might have just been her, but she felt like she got more attention. One girl even asked her where she'd gotten her shoes from; she'd been unable to help herself and walked out of the store with one of the pairs on. Stilettos sure gave a different feeling than flats. Right before the subway, a sign caught her eye. Shock and Awe Dance Studio.
She'd trained in jazz for years before going to college, but it had been harder and harder to get to a class. When Aidan had wiped out her good credit standing, survival had become more important than taking a class. Right now the only class she took was with Tyson for Micha's wedding.
But that's not where you are now. No. She was part owner in a business and made plenty of money, a hefty chunk of which she'd just spent on her new confidence boosters. Maybe it was time to start back doing something that she loved. Something for her.
3
Exactly what did one wear to a cardio striptease class? Micha had suggested her best stripper heels, but Serena had erred on the side of caution. She'd brought a pair of heels, but she'd dressed like she was going to a dance class. Sports bra, leggings, sneakers. For the next class she'd be better prepared.
Her stomach flipped as she trudged up the subway stairs. No time for nerves now.
Besides, she'd been the one to say that she needed to jumpstart her life again. She'd been hiding for too long, keeping to the shadows. It was time she lived. Time she let herself be seen. Even if Ty didn't notice her. This wasn't about that. Fine, maybe it was a little about that, but it was more about feeling like her old self. The self before Aidan had screwed up her life.
She'd never given much thought when he asked to put something on her card when they were in a store, or to help him out to get something. His excuse had been that he'd cosigned something for his brother once and that had messed up his credit. Like an idiot, she'd believed him.
Her parents had been great role models when it came to spending money. They'd taught her and Xavier how to save for things they wanted, how not to spend the money they didn't have, and about the true meaning of loans. But they’d also taught her to trust people and help out those less fortunate. That trust had gotten her into trouble.
Neither she nor her twin brother had any difficulty with numbers. They both excelled. She'd gone into accounting, and he'd learned how to seemingly grow his own money tree in property development, closing his first major deal before his twentieth birthday. Their parents had flipped when he said he wasn't finishing college, but they'd come to terms with it.
Her parents had always treated her like a screw-up who never lived up to her potential. She hadn't gone to the "right" schools. They had even been disappointed with her choice of accounting as a career, preferring finance instead. But they never worried she'd be in financial trouble. It was one of the reasons they felt comfortable moving out of the country to Puerto Rico, and living the vacation life. Little did they know how bad things would go for her after they left.
Aidan had taken her trusting nature and twisted it. Used her. And like a fool, she'd let him. At first, he'd paid her back, but then everything became, “I'll get you back,” or, “Spot me for this,” or, “Why do you have to nag me? You know if I had it, I'd give it to you.”
And then he’d asked her to cosign a car. Not a practical car, though. A freaking Mercedes. Like a moron she'd done it. Eventually, he'd left her for someone else and stopped paying the bills entirely, leaving her with a mountain of debt and no way out.
She'd kept that little disgrace to herself for a long time. If she'd gone to X, he would have given her the money, no questions asked. But she'd gotten herself into the mess, so it was up to her to get herself out.
It was just harder than she'd thought to find a job as an accountant with her credit history. So she'd taken the first job she could and then added side gigs, finally finding a job doing the books at a club. That place had been the ultimate definition of a strip joint. Seedy, underground, dark, and with sticky floors and slippery owners.
She'd never done anything illegal for them, but there'd been a set of books no one showed her. In a cash business it was easier to hide dirty dealings. After many hours of hard, exhausting work, she’d dug herself out of the financial hole. Only after she was free did she tell X and her parents. Her brother had been furious of course, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. And her parents, well, they were disappointed, but not surprised.
Now she knew better. But for the last three years she'd been hiding, not really living. It was time to change that.
The studio windows were covered, but she could see the light creeping out from under the door. She pulled the doors open, and the brightly lit reception area made her smile.
Photos of dancers in rehearsal outfits and costumes
with signatures lined the walls. There were postings for secondhand shoes and other dance equipment, as well as adverts for dance outfits.
The receptionist glanced up at her. "You here for the cardio strip class?"
Serena wasn't sure why, but she flushed. Get over it. If you want to strip, you have the right to strip. "Yeah. First time. Can you tell?"
The pretty brunette smiled. "Only a little. Go on. Put your name here on the sign-up list, and you can go into studio B to your right there."
Serena did as she was told. So far it looked like there were at least eight others signed up for the class. "Can you tell me why the blinds are down?"
"To keep out the creepers, but also to make sure you guys are totally comfortable. Cara likes you guys to tap into your inner diva, so she wants everyone as relaxed as possible. The blinds help. So does the no-mirror thing."
Serena's eyes went wide. "What do you mean, no mirror? How are we supposed to know if we're doing something right?" her inner dancer protested.
The girl winked. "It's not about getting it right. It's about having fun."
Fun...right. She was all about it. You can do this. Relax. In the studio, the other girls stretched and warmed up, a couple looking as nervous as she did. A slim blonde gave her a shy smile. "Your first time too?"
She tucked her bag into one of the storage cubbies and nodded. "Yeah. I've got that fresh-meat vibe to me, huh?"
"No, more like wishful thinking.”
"I'm Serena."
"Lizzy."
The more Serena talked, the more she relaxed. "So what brought you to cardio striptease, Lizzy?"
"My dumb-ass boyfriend. Or make that ex-boyfriend. He said I wasn't sexy enough."
She wrinkled her nose. "What an ass."
"Nah, it's okay. I dumped him on the spot, but it got me thinking. It can't ever hurt to find ways to be comfortable in my body, ya know?"
