Reckless

by Teagan Kade

  “With your mom,” whispers King.

  Hernandez steps in front of him. “We’re slipping out the back, going to hit up that strip club down the road.”

  “What, so you can contract syphilis?” I reply.

  “You in?” asks Hernandez.

  I look past them down the hall. “I don’t know…” It’s well past curfew. We’d be fucked if we were caught.

  “Come on,” pushes Hernandez, imploring me. “You don’t have to touch the merchandise. Just relax, have a drink, or you got something better to do?”

  “Or someone,” adds Jackson.

  They’re all looking to me. I don’t want to let them down. “Can I put on some fucking pants first?”

  *

  Jackson crouches by the back door to the dormitory and takes a small lock-picking kit out of his pocket, setting to work.

  I look around at the others. “Seriously? What next? A bank heist?”

  Jackson looks up smiling, two pins in the lock. “Dad’s a locksmith. There ain’t a god-damn door in this state that can keep me out.”

  “Except one with a woman behind it,” jokes Hernandez, everyone sniggering there in the dark.

  Jackson stops. “You want me to pick the damn lock or what?”

  Hernandez stoops down, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Just joking, brother. Do your thing.”

  Outside, we stay low until we’re out of campus grounds, sticking to the sidewalk. The security guy for Dante’s nods as we walk on.

  The strip club, aptly named The Juicy Lucy, is little more than a shabby brick building and a door.

  Hernandez loops around in front of us, clearly excited. “Don’t be deceived by appearances, boys. A treasure trove of pussy awaits.”

  I nod to the security guard, an older gentleman slumping against the wall. He’s snoring. “Hold up,” I joke. “We’ve got to get past doorman first.”

  As predicted, the club is no Aladdin’s cave inside. There are maybe six guys in here, all sitting around the front of a small stage complete with budget lighting. It’s the middle of July, but there’s tinsel hanging from the roof.

  “And here, for your viewing pleasure, is Cannnnndy,” announces the DJ, slurring the name.

  A woman struts out onto the stage to Honky Tonk Women. She’s wearing tassels—actual tassels, probably towards the poor side of forty.

  A waitress stops by in a bra and panties. “Can I get you boys something?” she asks, southern twang strong.

  “A lap dance?” replies Hernandez, a touch too eager. “Sure,” the waitress smiles, placing the tray down, “follow me, sugar.”

  Jackson takes a seat near the stage. “There goes Hernandez.”

  Another waitress arrives as Candy and her vanilla-pudding breasts leave the stage.

  I’ve been in my share of classy strip joints.

  This is not one of them.

  Jackson ordered shots all around. He sits there flicking his Zippo lighter open and closed, eyes glued to the flame.

  “You really like that thing, huh?” I suggest.

  His eyes are wild as they flick over to me. “You know what I like about fire, Cox?”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s human,” he smirks. “It needs air to breathe. It dances. It speaks.”

  “Speaks?” I laugh. “Buddy, if the fire’s talking to you, you’ve spent too long looking into it.”

  He continues to flick his lighter open and closed. “Perhaps, but you can’t deny it’s a beautiful thing.”

  One of the others shakes his head at me behind Jackson’s back. I understand where he’s coming from. The guy’s a fucking nut.

  The song wraps up, Hernandez returning from the back with his hair ruffled.

  “That was quick,” I tell him.

  He takes a seat and throws a shot back. “Live fast. Die pretty. That’s my motto.”

  Jackson clinks his shot glass against his. “Amen.”

  The next stripper leaves the stage to scattered applause.

  Jesus.

  If this place was any sadder, it would be Toy Story 3.

  “Thank you, Delilah,” slurs the DJ, switching over to Beyonce’s Dance for You. “Please welcome to the stage, live for her very first performance here at The Juicy Lucy,” his voice lowering, “Enigma.”

  The stage lights go dim, a figure emerging in a neon thong and bra. She starts to dance, a bit awkward but definitely with the best body of the night.

  Hernandez claps his hands together. “Yeah, baby! That is what I’m talking about.”

  ‘Enigma’ struts to the front of the stage, the lights coming up to match the music.

  “The fuck?” says Hernandez beside me.

  The stripper stops. I stop, dropping the shot glass that was in my hand.

  Because that’s no stripper.

  That’s Lacey.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LACEY

  I’ve had my share of embarrassing moments at the academy, but nothing compares to this.

  I cannot move. The insane heels I’m wearing are glued to the floor, so I simply stand there, the lights burning, looking down at an equally bemused Payton, and I want to die. I want the roof to cave in and cover me completely.

  Payton stands and gets up onto the stage, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around me.

  “Payton…” I protest, but my voice is weak, small.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or simply in shock. The others continue watch me open-mouthed.

  Payton picks me up and lowers me from the stage, pointing to Hernandez and the others. “Avert your fucking eyes if you want to keep them.”

  The boys put up their hands and look away.

  Tony, the security guy, has come inside, finding his way across to us. “Is there a problem here, Lace?”

  “Yes, there’s a fucking problem,” shouts Payton.

  Yep, definitely anger.

  He goes to step up to Tony, but I push between them, conscious of my bare ass on show. “It’s okay, Tony. I know him.”

  But he ignores me, focused on Payton. “You want time with the girl, son, you pay for it.”

  Payton takes out his wallet and removes a wad of cash, slapping it down on the table hard enough for the shot glasses to go skittling off. “How’s that?”

  Tony looks to me. “You good, hon?”

  I nod.

  Payton takes my hand, leading me over to a private room. He closes the door behind us, his head in his hands. He looks up at me as I stand there with my arms crossed in front of myself. “Am I in a dream?” he says. “Tell me I’m in a fucking dream right now.”

  “I sure wish I was.”

  He sits on the lounge. I take a seat beside him.

  “It’s not how it looks,” I start.

  “No?” he barks, “because it looks like you’ve been sneaking away from campus at night to come here and, what, strip? For these idiots?”

  I resist the temptation to ask why he’s here. “I don’t usually… the stage.” I can’t even get the words out properly. “I just wait on tables, but tonight they were short...”

  “Why?” he asks, genuinely confused.

  I hang my head and shrug my shoulders. “I need the money.”

  “I don’t get it. Money for what?”

  “For the tuition, Payton. I’m behind payments. They’re going to kick me out any day now if I don’t get it to them.”

  His eyes are sad. They see straight through me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t need you solving my problems.”

  He waves his hand around the room. “And this is so much better, getting your tits out for strangers?”

  “I haven’t. I mean, I wasn’t going to…”

  “So what were you doing up there on the stage? Cleaning?”

  There’s no excuse. “The waitressing doesn’t pay enough, but one dance up there and I would have made enough to pay off at least the
first two weeks.” I can’t believe how ridiculous it sounds saying it aloud, how far I’ve fallen here. I’m wearing underwear, but I feel naked.

  Payton seems to calm down somewhat, taking my hands. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for losing it.”

  “It’s a shock, I get it.”

  He laughs quietly. “You can say that again. How do you even get out of campus?”

  “The security guard,” I confess. “He lets me pass at curfew… for a cut.”

  Payton shakes his head. “That motherfucker. I’m going to break every bone in his body.”

  “No,” I warn, “I can’t have this getting out. I’m embarrassed enough as it is. If the Dean found out…”

  “You’re not doing this, Lacey. I won’t allow it.”

  “You won’t allow it?” I let go of his hands.

  “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Emotion wells up—embarrassment and irritation and plain frustration balled up into one. “Just go, Payton. This is bad enough as it is without you here judging me.”

  I think he’s going to apologize again, but instead he stands. “You want me to leave? Is that what you’re asking?”

  A tear slides down my cheek. I can’t control myself anymore. There’s something digging into my gut, tearing me open from the inside out, and it’s more than shame. It’s deep and primal and it hurts like hell. “Go, please.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’ll call Tony.”

  Payton laughs. “Pops out there? He hasn’t used those fists since World War One.”

  I look at Payton, my face wet. “Please.”

  He raises his hands, clearly as frustrated as I am. “Fine.”

  I watch him open the door and walk out back into the club. The door slams behind him, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts and that same sharp dagger cutting up my insides.

  Five minutes later, I emerge from the dressing room fully clothed. The boys are nowhere to be seen.

  The owner of the club stops me before I make it to the door. “What the fuck was that all about? Was that your boyfriend?”

  I try my best to remain composed. I hand him Payton’s money. “I can’t work here anymore. I’m sorry.”

  “In the middle of a shift? You fucking kidding me right now? The best piece of ass I get in years and you’re walking after your first dance?”

  “That was hardly a dance,” I reply, “and I’m not a ‘piece of ass.’”

  He shrugs and feathers out a few bills, handing them to me. “Consider this your severance. You’re done here.”

  I look at the bills. It’s far from enough.

  I take the money and walk. There’s no point arguing. I can’t do this, money or not. I’ll have to find another way.

  “Hey, leaving so soon?”

  Tony gets up from his chair when I’m outside. I pull my jacket tight around myself. “I’m afraid so.”

  He smiles. “Good.” He points his thumb behind himself. “That’s no place for a girl like you.”

  The moon’s full overhead. “A stubborn, useless idiot, you mean?”

  He taps the side of his head. “A girl with a brain, I mean.” He reaches into his pocket and takes out a fifty, handing it to me.

  “I can’t, Tony.”

  “Take it,” he says. “I’m just going to blow it on booze and cigarettes anyhow.”

  Reluctantly, I take it and smile. “Thanks, Tony.”

  “You go and show those boys what you’re made of.”

  “I will, Tony. Thanks.”

  Mercifully, I’m able to slip back to campus quietly. I come into my room and lock the door. I climb into bed and pull the covers tight around myself, but I still feel naked. I still feel exposed.

  It was just a dream. It was just a dream, I repeat.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was anything but.

  *

  I wake blissfully numb.

  It’s short-lived.

  My cell starts to ring across the desk.

  I lunge for it and check the caller.

  Why now?

  Mom’s voice comes down the line when I pick it up. “Honey.”

  “Mom.”

  “Everything okay?”

  Nope. It’s about far from okay as it’s possible to get, but I reply, “Sure, Mom. Sorry I haven’t been calling. Things have been… hectic.”

  You can say that again.

  She’s concern incarnate. “They haven’t been working my pumpkin too hard, have they?”

  I laugh. Understatement of the year. “No, Mom, but to be honest, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here.”

  The concern is replaced by excitement. “You’re coming home?”

  I was tempted to pack up last night and leave under the cover of darkness… until I remembered how much I’ve sacrificed to be here, how hard I’ve worked. The boys can laugh and snigger all they want, but I’m doing this.

  And then there’s Payton. Regardless of how we parted last night, I don’t want to leave him. For the first time in a long time, I’m happy. I want to be around him, with him, his arms caging me protectively, and I didn’t think I would ever be like that, so… dependent, but it’s nice. I can’t blame him for reacting the way he did last night. It was natural. I can only hope he comes to understand why.

  I dress and make my way to the dining room like it’s death row. I expect silence, stares when I enter, but everyone’s chatting and eating away oblivious to my entrance.

  I find Payton, Hernandez and the others, taking a seat trying not to blush like a spanked tomato beside them.

  Hernandez is the first to speak. “Hey, Lacey, about last night…”

  “Careful,” warns Payton.

  Hernandez puts his hands up. “I’m just saying,” he pretends to zip his mouth closed, “your secret is safe with us. Right, boys?”

  The others nod in tune.

  I look down at the polished chrome of the table. “I quit anyhow. Really, I just want to forget it ever happened.”

  I turn to Payton. “Mind if we talk for a second?”

  He nods and leads me over into the corner.

  “I’m sorr—”

  We both go to say it at the same time.

  “You go first,” I tell him.

  “Look,” he says, going to take my arm before spotting the Captain. “It’s forgotten, and I get why you were doing it, but I’m here to say you don’t have to.”

  “I know. I’ll work something out.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes are sincere. “Seeing you up there like that…”

  “The neon thong was a bit much, wasn’t it?”

  Payton nods slowly, looking over to our table. “Well, you made their night at least, probably their year.”

  I shield my face. “God, it’s so embarrassing.”

  He places his hands on my shoulders and lowers his face close to mine. “Fuck everyone else. Fuck what they think. Only you and I matter. Now, you good?”

  “I’m good,” I nod back.

  He gives me a light slap on the ass before heading back to the table. I watch him go, his own tight behind truly a thing of beauty.

  And it’s all yours.

  He might just get a private dance after all if he plays his cards right.

  The bell rings for the first class of the day.

  I head in the opposite direction of the others. “I’m just going to get my jacket. Meet you there?”

  Hernandez points his fingers at me like two pistols, “You betcha, Miracle.”

  I run back to my room, hunting for my jacket beside the bed when the door closes.

  I start to turn. “If you’re looking for a pre-class quickie, you’re all out of—”

  But it’s not Payton standing there.

  It’s Ryan, a sly, incision of a smile on his face. “I hear you’re looking for some extra cash.”

  I point back to the hall. “Leave. Now.”

  He takes a s
tep forward. “You don’t want my money?” He reaches down and grabs his crotch. “Come on. My dick’s not going to suck itself now, is it?”

  I back up against the window. “I’m warning you.”

  He laughs, picking up a textbook before dropping it back on the desk. “That’s okay. I don’t like it rough. Hell, I might even pay a little extra if you keep it kinky.”

  “I’ll scream.”

  “And who’s going to hear you? Everyone’s at class.”

  He comes forward fast, reaching for me, but I dodge left and drive my knee up hard into his crotch. I don’t expect it to connect, but it does. He goes down seething. “Fucking bitch!”

  I open my door and move into the hall, pretend I’m knocking on Payton’s door. “Payton! Help!” I call, knowing full well he’s not there.

  It works. Ryan hobbles out of my room down the hallway.

  I stand there breathing heavily when he’s gone.

  That was way, way too close.

  You should tell someone.

  But he knew about the money, which means also knows about…

  No, it’s too risky. I can deal with him for now. I’ll just have to be on guard.

  Ryan’s dangerous, but he’s a danger that can be managed.

  I arrive to class expecting to see him there again, bracing myself for it.

  The Captain bows before me. “Your Highness. Thank you for gracing us with your presence.”

  “Sorry, Captain.”

  Payton looks down at me as I fall into line. “You all right?”

  “Perfect,” I nod back.

  Captain looks around. “Anyone seen Fielding?”

  “I, uh, passed him in the hall,” I reply. “I think he had a sore stomach.”

  Or scrotum.

  The Captain notes it on his clipboard. “He was sick of busting his ass more likely.” He lifts his head. “Who’s ready for a field trip?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PAYTON

  We’ve reached the top of the Mountain, yet another ‘the’ in the Captain’s limitless arsenal of torture.

  It has to be one-hundred degrees out. My t-shirt’s soaked through, as is Lacey’s, her pink sports bra showing underneath.

  I preferred the neon number, personally.

  Now that the shock has worn off, it almost seems laughable, though I’m not about to bring it up. She seems to have forgotten the whole, sorry episode herself, as have the boys—publicly, at least.