by Katy Kaylee
I tried to smile, but inside I wasn’t so sure that she was right. Harrison hadn’t wanted me to stay there, that much had been crystal clear. As soon as Hollie had pulled him to the side and asked, I’d heard his words.
It’s not a good idea, he’d told her.
As if he hadn’t known me for ten years.
As if I wasn’t already indebted enough to him.
As if he hadn’t totally rescued me and saved my life.
The day my grandmother died, my father and I didn’t go to the funeral. We stayed home. It was raining outside, and I sat by the windows and watched as streams of water flooded down the glass.
My father was, as usual, passed out in his easy chair. There was a meth flute on the scarred wooden table beside him, and a bag full of blueish crystals that were partially spilled over the surface.
Just looking at it made me feel sick to my stomach. I knew it was wrong, but I was so angry with my father. He’d smoked that stuff again, and now we weren’t in church, saying goodbye to Gramma and mourning.
Back when I was very small, I’d thought the crystals had been pretty. They smelled terrible, but they were gorgeous, and I pretended that they were little treasures and rocks from outer space. One time, Daddy had caught me playing with them.
I still had the scar on my arm from where he’d burned me with his cigarette as a punishment. Now, I knew better than that – I knew that I wasn’t even supposed to be looking at the drugs.
Daddy spent most of his days sleeping now, when he wasn’t smoking. The small apartment we shared in Rogers Park always smelled musty and stale, and I missed more school than I attended. It wasn’t like Daddy noticed, but I never stayed home because I wanted to.
I stayed home because I was afraid that if I left for too long, I’d come home and find Daddy gone, forever.
I always knew that I’d remember that day – but not for the reason I initially thought. I thought I’d remember because it was the day of my grandmother’s funeral.
But in reality, I wound up remembering the day because it was the beginning of the end. After his mother died, my father’s mental health and drug addiction took a turn for the worst. He wasn’t just smoking meth out of his little glass flute anymore. Now, he was drinking to excess, sometimes up to two handles per day. He started smoking crack and inviting men whom he called his friends over to party with him. His drug dealer was always there, staring at me and licking his lips.
Every day I passed in a terrified haze.
It got to be too much. I’d lie on the couch, pretending to be asleep, while Daddy’s friends smoked and drank and leered at me.
“Paris,” Daddy muttered one afternoon. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”
I was now ten years old, and the idea of leaving the apartment was almost frightening. As dirty and disgusting as it was, the apartment was home. Rogers Park was a terrible neighborhood, too – I always hear gunshots and screams and cries for help from the neighbors.
“Where are we going?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
Daddy didn’t reply. He cursed and swore as he pulled his jacket over his frame and then turned to me.
“Hurry the fuck up,” he growled, in a tone that I knew meant business. I pulled my coat on and shoved my feet in my too-small shoes: telling Daddy that I’d outgrown them yet again wouldn’t result in anything other than a slap across the face.
Outside, the weather was bitterly cold. It was so strange to be outdoors with my father: he hadn’t left the apartment in what felt like forever. Despite the cold weather, Daddy walked at a fast pace and I had to trot to keep up. We crossed block after block and soon, found ourselves in front of a decrepit building. A man was sitting outside, holding the leash of a pit bull that was barking and snarling and drooling all over the pavement.
“Inside,” Daddy said. He opened the door and led me into the building. We climbed a crumbling, creaky stairway that smelled like pee and stood in front of a door. I could hear loud music blaring from the inside, and Daddy rapped on the door.
When it swung open, my heart sank as I recognized the man standing on the other side of the door.
It was Daddy’s dealer, and he smirked down at me.
“Here she is,” Daddy said. He put a hand on my back and shoved me, making me stumble and step forward.
“You’re all paid up,” his dealer growled. To me, he held out his hand. I refused to take it, and he wrapped dirty fingers around my wrist and yanked me inside.
“Daddy,” I cried loudly. “Daddy, what’s going on?!”
I expected my father to follow me inside, but instead, he did the unthinkable. As I twisted and craned my neck to see him, I watched as he turned and walked down the stairs.
“You’re mine now,” Daddy’s dealer growled. He pulled harder at my wrist and I stumbled once more, falling to my knees. Tears of pain and fear came to my eyes.
“I don’t have time for this fucking shit,” the dealer said. He yanked me roughly to my feet, hurting my arm and dragging me across the floor. I screamed in fear and he slapped me across the face, hard, with his free hand.
“You stay quiet, you hear me?”
All I could do was sob as the man led me to a closet, opened the door, and shoved me inside. Before I could protest, he slammed the door in my face.
Inside the closet, it was dark and smelled horrible. I curled up and wrapped my arms around my knees, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Had Daddy really just given me to his dealer, just like that? He had to be coming back, surely. He wouldn’t leave me alone, not like this.
Hours passed, each worse than the last. The dealer opened the closet once to offer me a piece of greasy, cold fried chicken, but I was too afraid to eat. I kept worrying about what was going to happen to me.
I didn’t know what it would be, but I knew that it would be horrible.
When the door opened again, I shrieked with fright. I expected to see the leering, pale face of the dealer again.
Instead, there was an angel standing in front of me. His handsome face was contorted with concern and his blue eyes spoke of kindness. He was wearing a dark blue uniform and before he could say anything to me, I flung myself at him and wrapped my arms around his neck.
I didn’t know anything about this man, other than that he had saved me.
And that I would be in love with him for the rest of my life.
“Paris?”
The note of concern in Hollie’s voice brought me back to the present. I wasn’t in that closet anymore – I was sitting in a posh sushi restaurant with Hollie and Harrison. I wasn’t a scared, dirty little girl.
Now, I was an adult woman.
But thinking about that day still frightened me to the core.
“Sorry,” I said, blushing. “I was spacing out.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Hollie said. “Dad’s leaving. He’s giving us his credit card. You want a drink?”
“Um, sure,” I said, still dazed in my thoughts.
After Harrison rescued me, things happened quickly. He brought me home to his nice house in the suburbs and let me stay with his family – his wife, Krista and his daughter, Hollie – while Social Services worked on my case and found me a foster family.
He’d even wanted to adopt me. He’d told me that he wanted to make me a part of the family, make me another daughter.
But his wife, Krista, wasn’t having it. She said that Harrison had already done enough – that the system would do a much better job of caring for me.
And although I hadn’t become a part of the Hendricks family, I’d stayed close with Hollie. She’d been my best friend since the day Harrison had rescued me. We were always in the same classes at school, and we had a sleepover at Hollie’s house almost every weekend. My own foster family didn’t pay that much attention to me beyond doing the bare minimum, but I didn’t care.
In my dreams, I was a member of the Hendricks family.
And in my secret, innermost th
oughts, Harrison was my hero. I dreamt about him constantly. I loved him with the pure, sweet love that only a young girl could know.
Now, my love for him didn’t feel quite so pure. Looking at him made my whole body tingle with desire, and even now, I couldn’t seem to let go the fantasy of being with such a man, a man who saved me from a lifetime of horrors and abuse. And although he’s handsome, that had little to do with my feelings for him. Harrison was strong and kind and generous.
I knew I’d never find a better man than him.
Maybe now, staying with him and Hollie over the summer, things would finally change. I hoped more than I dared admit, even to myself, that Harrison would wake up and realize how much I’d always loved him and dreamed of him.
I glanced over at Hollie, sipping a pink, fruity cocktail and my hopes faded a little bit. I wouldn’t ever want to hurt her – she’s my best friend – and we’d always dreamed of working together. Hollie had always wanted to open a private medical practice and have me by her side as her lead clinical counselor. But after everything that happened at school, I had started to think that I wasn’t cut out for that life. I didn’t do well enough a basic psych class, and I had to find a job to be able to afford fall tuition.
Hollie knew that I found a job.
She was proud of me, telling me that she was sure I’d kill at it, whatever it was.
The problem was, well, I couldn’t tell her just what I’d be doing.
Come this weekend, I was going to start working as a stripper.
And I knew I’d have to keep it a secret for the rest of my life.
3
Harrison – Thursday
I sat at the bar with Steve, my partner, and sipped another watered-down drink. Strip clubs weren’t exactly famous for heavy pours, but at least it was something. The Pink Diamond was located just outside of Chicago, just far enough to allow alcohol at all, and I was grateful for the distraction.
I couldn’t stop myself from wondering just how long this fucking assignment was going to take. I was sick of the cheap strip club. Sick of the people in it. Sick of my work overall, even though I knew this assignment was an important one that would likely lead to a satisfying payoff.
Over the last years, I’d become sick of life in general. It happened right around the time Krista left. I’d worked so hard to make detective and make my way through the various departments, but I’d found myself suddenly wondering what the hell the point had been.
Now, I just felt like I wanted it all to be over. Especially if it meant the end of long nights spent sitting at the bar of The Pink Diamond.
“You ever wonder why the fuck we put up with this?” I asked Steve, turning to him and finishing my drink.
Steve narrowed his brow at me. “You don’t normally talk like that,” he said slowly. “Something bothering you?”
I frowned. Something was bothering me: the fact that now, Paris was once again living under my roof. Maybe that was why I was having a harder time than usual concentrating on my work.
Jesus, just thinking about her was difficult. I kept picturing her sitting at the table at that sushi place, licking her lips and shyly smiling at me.
It killed me. She probably had some kind of crush on me, the kind of thing that she’d get over. Hell, she probably even had a boyfriend at school.
And why the hell was I acting like this, anyway? Acting like some idiot teenager with a crush on the most popular girl in school.
I was in fucking trouble if I couldn’t get Paris out of my head, but that wasn’t something I’d ever admit to Steve.
“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Just tired. I want this to be over.”
“No kidding,” Steve said. Having clearly misunderstood me, he continued: “My wife ain’t happy about this. She doesn’t want me hanging out in a titty bar, even though she knows it’s for work.” He rolled his eyes and drained the last of his drink.
“Yeah, well, can you blame her?” I asked. On stage, dancers gyrated their hips and cupped their breasts, turning to all the patrons with smiles that were supposed to look sexy, but mostly just looked bored. Maybe it was because I was getting old, but the whole concept of stripping seemed ... uncomfortable to me. Those shoes, their knees on the hard floors as they crawled to collect their tips from horny patrons.
Besides, I’d always disdained men who had to pay women to fuck them or pay attention to them. It was base. Maybe the reason I was so uncomfortable there was because I worried I was turning into that kind of man: a pathetic, old, lecher who needed to stare at fresh young pussy in order to feel alive.
Fuck, I was depressed.
My boss was convinced that the owner of The Pink Diamond was running a drug ring, with the strip club serving as nothing more than a front. At first, the assignment had sounded meaty, something I could really sink my teeth into.
Now, I was starting to wonder why I’d taken it at all.
As I motioned at the bartender for a refill, I heard a squeal of delight from across the room. The sound made me flinch.
“Could be worse, though,” Steve said. He took a swig of a fresh drink and raised an eyebrow at me. “Nice scenery.”
Seconds later, a pair of skinny, deeply tanned arms wrapped around me from behind.
Ah, yes.
My least favorite part of the job.
Faking a relationship with the star performer of the club, Madison Maxx.
“Hi, baby,” Madison cooed in my ear. She smelled like cheap rose perfume and cigarette smoke, and I gently detached her arms from my torso before turning around on the stool. Getting to my feet, I hugged her as lightly as I could.
“I love seeing you here so often,” Madison said sweetly. She batted her lashes at me and Steve. “You’re like, such a devoted boyfriend. I swear, all the other girls are so jealous.”
I pasted a fake grin across my face. “You know me,” I lied. “Can’t stay away from this place. I love seeing my baby dance for me,” I added, hoping the lie was enough to convince her.
Madison grinned like a fox. Sometimes, I wondered if she really bought the lies that I was selling her. Maybe she was smarter than she looked – maybe she knew it was all bullshit. After all, strip clubs were sold as fantasies to everyone. The idea of taking your clothes off for a bunch of strangers and getting turned on ... maybe it wasn’t just an illusion for lonely, horny men.
But judging by the lovestruck in her eyes, Madison indeed bought my lies.
“Baaaaaby,” Madison said, stretching out the word to four syllables. “You have to promise that you’ll buy a dance after my next song. I miss you,” she added, pouting and making her blue eyes big.
I grinned at her. “Whatever it takes to make you happy, babe,” I replied. “You know that.” With her eyes on mine, Madison reached for the rest of my drink and threw it back in one gulp. She moved in for a kiss but I tilted my jaw at the last second and her freshly painted lips landed on my cheek.
“Bye, baby,” she cooed. Blowing a kiss at Steve, Madison burst into a girlish giggle and flounced away on her plastic platform heels. As soon as she was gone, I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t even say it,” I told him sternly.
Steve smirked at me. “Oh, the hardships we have to endure,” he said. “Got a nice body on her, doesn’t she?”
I thought of Madison Maxx: her honey-blonde hair that obviously came from a bottle of peroxide. Her blue eyes, perpetually caked in glitter and fake lashes. Her gigantic fake tits, which she’d once bragged to me had been paid for by a single “fan” of hers.
“It is a hardship,” I said finally. “I’m not really interested in women who are mostly plastic.”
I expected Steve to snicker, but he narrowed his eyes at me.
“What?” I asked him flatly.
“Nothing, man,” Steve said. “It’s just ...” He trailed off, still looking troubled. “What the fuck are you interested in, then?”
I didn’t reply.
“It’s been years since Kris
ta left your sorry ass, and you haven’t shown a lick of interest in any woman – real or plastic.”
I sighed, still not answering.
I could never tell Steve the truth: that I was thinking of Paris and her young, beautiful, natural body. That morning, I stumbled on her coming out of the bathroom in just a towel. The white cotton hadn’t quite been enough to conceal her ripe curves, and the sight of her, almost naked, hadn’t done fuck all to push away my dirty thoughts. If I were to ever want another woman, I’d want her.
Hell.
I do want her.
But there ain’t shit I can do about. She’s off-limits, and she always will be.
Thankfully, at that moment, the music changed and the two girls doing a lackluster striptease on stage climbed off. Madison’s signature song came on over the speakers and she emerged in a sparkly, sequined corset and matching thong. A playful grin was on her face as she stalked out to the pole and wrapped her hand around it, making eye contact with me before bending over. Her tits spilled out of her corset and with an expert hand, she pulled it off and tossed it to the side.
As I began to play the part of a dutiful boyfriend, pulling bills out of my wallet and tossing them at her nearly naked, writhing body, I pushed all thoughts of Paris out of my head and turned to work.
It wasn’t Madison that I was attracted to – it was the possibility of finally closing this case. As I threw more money at my “girlfriend”, I silently thanked her for giving me a reason to come here every night. After all, I had to keep an eye on operations.
Tonight, I was planning to cause a diversion that would let Steve into the back room and copy the owner’s hard drives. Now, I was just waiting for the perfect opportunity.
I didn’t have to wait long. Madison finished her song and I paid her for a dance, then she got back up on stage in a sequined thong and matching pasties. As she got down on all fours and showed off her assets, I noticed a drunk guy over to the side getting a little too close to her.
