Careful What You Kiss For

by Jane Lynne Daniels

  “And you divorced her.”

  “She divorced me.” Carl’s gaze turned cold. “And this ain’t about me, Sunshine. You’re the one up shit creek.”

  “I can handle this.”

  Carl nodded. “Yeah, and I’m Brad Pitt.” He downed the last of his coffee and smacked his lips. “Let’s get out of here. You’ve got to get on those phone numbers and I’ve got to figure out how Gary’s making money off of hardware without selling any.”

  They got up to leave, Max picking up the used cups to toss them in the trash. “That’s some hot wife you’ve got.”

  Thunderclouds formed on Carl’s face. “What?”

  “Could’ve sworn you said you were Brad Pitt.” He shoved the glass door open hard.

  • • •

  Patsy Fowler had on running shoes today, Tensley noted, and a sweatshirt with “World’s Best Grandma” written across the front. She wore wireless rimmed glasses with a smudge on the right lens. “Good. You’re here,” she said as soon as she saw Tensley.

  “I’m here.” Breathing in the subtle blend of ink, paper, old wood and dust, and feeling her heart lift.

  “You know how to work a cash register?”

  Tensley hesitated. “I’ve seen people do it.” She doubted that counted, though.

  She was right. It didn’t. Patsy gave her a lesson, darting sharp glances in her direction to make sure she was paying attention. It wasn’t that hard, Tensley was relieved to learn. Especially since the night job and day job scenario had her operating on little sleep.

  “I’ll be back before it’s time to lock up. I’ve written my cell phone number down and put it there, on the counter.” Patsy motioned toward the piece of paper. “You have plenty of change in the register and should be good to go.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Tensley assured her. “Go see your grandchildren.”

  “Can’t get enough of those little buggars.”

  “They probably feel the same way about you.”

  Patsy grinned. “Wait until they see what I’m bringing them today.” She lifted a cloth bag with a picture of the Space Needle on the front. It appeared to be filled to the brim with an assortment of books and toys.

  Tensley leaned her elbows on the counter and returned the smile. “Have fun.” Once the older woman had gone, she covered her face with her hands. She’d told Patsy she’d be fine. She wished she knew if that would be true. She wished she never had to go back to that awful strip club again. She wished she could be back in her corporate office, where she belonged. She wished Max had never come back into her life to turn it upside down even more than Madame Claire had.

  She wished. More than a little irony there, since a wish had been what started this whole thing in the first place.

  And as far as Max, did she really wish he hadn’t come back into her life? If she only had the memory of that one night with him, of the shuddering out-of-body experience of their coming together, of his lips against her most tender places, of lying beside him, both of them spent, and curling up in his protective arms … could it be enough?

  She sighed, from the top of her head to her toes. Like a heroine in one of her beloved Victorian novels, burdened by the tragic loss of her only love. Tensley felt as though she could understand the depths of that kind of loss, maybe for the first time in her life.

  A tree next to the window rustled in the breeze; a car with a loud muffler drove by outside; a rafter in the old building creaked overhead.

  One by one, Tensley opened each finger covering her eyes and straightened.

  It wasn’t enough, not even close. She’d started out wanting a piece of the past and wound up only able to see a future.

  She was getting the hell out of this life. Whether she stumbled into the right lesson that changed the spell, convinced Madame Claire to figure out how to undo it, or she had to save every single penny she earned from the bookstore and the club to restart her life — she would do it.

  When it all came down to it, she didn’t have it in her to play the tragic heroine. Much as Tensley appreciated a good drama, she’d be the one behind the heroine, kicking her in her fictional ass.

  A bell tinkled at the front of the store, signaling a customer’s arrival. Tensley brushed her hair back and put on a smile, a real one this time. She moved out from behind the counter. “Hello. How can I help you?”

  She stopped short, the words dying on her lips when she saw Max, his tall frame silhouetted in the door, shadows falling across his face. “You can give me another chance,” he said.

  Tensley looked down at her shoes, hoping he couldn’t see the tsunami of emotion those six words had unleashed in her. Another chance. She turned away to straighten books that didn’t need straightening. “How did you find me?”

  “Detective. Remember?”

  She lined up the corners of each book cover. “You followed me.”

  “I did.”

  “Let’s just go on from here,” she said, not daring to look at him. “Forget about that night. Pretend it didn’t happen.” Amazing how someone could say something they didn’t at all mean. She stepped away from the shelf and made a sweeping motion with her trembling hand. “Done. Over.”

  He moved toward her. “Won’t work.”

  Tensley’s heart leaped into her throat. By the time she found her voice, he was standing inches from her, the heat of his body pulling her in. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t risk it again. “Yes, it will. I’ve already forgotten about it.”

  His jaw muscles worked. “I haven’t.”

  She watched the small scar on his cheek move with the tension in his jaw. Her mother had done that to him. She tried to turn away again, but his arms folded around her, gently at first and then harder, with more urgency. His mouth closed in on hers and everything in her world blurred. Into a kaleidoscope of colors. A swirling torrent of colliding feelings.

  She couldn’t breathe for longing to be with him again, to feel his body on hers.

  “Ten,” he whispered in the brief second their lips were apart.

  She lifted her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair as he closed in again, harder this time, holding her as though nothing could ever part them again.

  Through her haze, she heard a tingling, a bell. Angels applauding? No. The door.

  Her arms came down to push him away and she stood back, trying to catch her breath. “You have to go,” she managed to push out.

  He shook his head. “No.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I’ll wait.”

  Tensley turned away, focusing on a stack of bright covers in the romance section. A sliver of sunshine landed on the image of a man with his lips on a woman’s neck. She closed her eyes. “Leave.”

  “Ten — ”

  “I have a customer. A job. A real one.” What had she let herself do? He’d only break her heart again. She’d never asked him about kids. He probably had a whole family with Rhonda the Skank. One he’d be tied to for life. She snapped every last mental Tupperware container shut and stored it on a shelf so high she had to tiptoe to get to it. “Go.”

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Yeah, well.” Her fingers shook, but they waved him away. “I don’t think so.”

  She straightened and took a deep breath. Max turned and left, the sound of his footsteps ringing on the wooden floor.

  It wasn’t until after she’d helped her customer find a stack of mysteries, and she was alone in the store again, that she let her tears fall onto the wooden counter, sliding off the edge to land on the floor.

  • • •

  Patsy returned, glowing from time spent with her grandkids, in time for Tensley to go back to Kate’s and get a few hours of sleep before she had to be back at the club.

  As she opened her locker, steadfastly avoiding another flyer with her picture on it, she wondered if Max and his detective friend had come up with anything else to pin on Gary yet. The sooner they did, the sooner she was out of here. Gary was such a sleazebag, it didn’
t seem like it should take that much time.

  She finished pulling on her costume, what there was of it, anyway, and shut the locker door, jumping in surprise when she saw Tawny standing behind it, staring at her. Hands on her leather-clad hips, the other dancer pinned Tensley to the wall with a single gaze. “You’re up,” Tawny said.

  “What?”

  “Half the damn world is out sick. I’ve got nobody to work the back room and two paying customers on the way. I said you’re up, so move your ass.”

  Oh h-e-l-l no. Now that push had apparently come to shove, she didn’t want to work that back room; she just wanted to get back there to see what went on. And call it in.

  “Oh, okay. Great,” Tensley said, her voice faint. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to think what to do.

  “You said you wanted extra time.”

  “I did. Yes, I did. I said that.”

  Tawny’s frown could have curdled milk. “Then get your ass back there so I can send them in.”

  “I will. Going right — ” She pointed her finger at the dressing room door. “Now.” She studied her finger, then let it drop. “Just have to make a quick call and I’ll be right there.”

  “Uh-uh.” Tawny shook her head. “No phone calls. No time.” She narrowed her eyes, looking suspicious. “Milo’s already back there. You want this or not?”

  “Don’t I maybe get a trainer? Get to watch somebody first, so that I, you know, am sure about what I’m supposed to do?” She sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

  Tawny closed the short distance between them in less than a second, her eyes blazing into Tensley’s. “What do you think this is, McDonald’s? No, you don’t get a trainer. You get to tell me what the fuck is going on. And you get to tell me right now.”

  “Noth — Nothing’s going on.” Tensley cleared her throat. “I just want to be sure I do a good job.”

  “Milo will tell me if you screw up.” The dancer’s index finger stopped less than an inch from Tensley’s nose. “So don’t screw up.”

  “Okay,” Tensley whispered.

  “Follow me.”

  Tensley had no choice but to do as ordered, leaving her cell, and the ability to call Max for help, in her locker. Oh God. What were these men expecting to get for their money? Olympic high divers began performing soaring plunges in her stomach as she followed Tawny out the door and down the hall.

  She was a corporate executive. She didn’t get paid for sexual favors. She didn’t — Whoa. A dive from the highest board. She clutched at her midsection.

  “You’re not gonna be sick,” Tawny hissed. “So don’t even think about it.” She pulled a key from some nonexistent pocket in her leather pants and unlocked the door, pulling it open. “I’m doin’ you a favor. You might start acting like it.”

  “Thank you.” Tensley went through the door, spotting Milo right away. He was stationed against the wall, eyes straight ahead, hands locked in front of him.

  “Bar’s stocked,” Tawny said. “Milo will keep anybody from getting out of line.”

  What constituted being out of line? Tensley screamed inside her head. Not surprisingly, there was no answer.

  Tawny left, locking the door behind her.

  Milo nodded toward the bar. “You want a drink, you’d better get it now.”

  A drink — or ten — might be a very good idea. Tensley went behind the small bar and grabbed a bottle of the first amber liquid she saw. She raised it to her lips. The alcohol burned going down, numbing her throat. Too bad it couldn’t numb her brain. Yet, anyway.

  “Put on one of those.” Milo motioned toward a hook, where a few short silk robes hung. “They like to see it come off.”

  Of course “they” did. She obeyed, sliding her arms through the white fabric.

  Max. She had to get to him, tell him. Somehow. Before she had to … ugh. Perform. For sleazy guys in polyester suits gripping money in their sweaty fists.

  If only she’d had the chance to grab her cell. Hold on. “Milo!”

  “Huh?”

  “Give me your cell. Please.”

  He shook his head. “The customers are gonna be here any minute. You gotta get ready. Put on, you know, your face.”

  She frowned. “I have makeup on.”

  He swatted the air impatiently. “Nah, your face. You know. Like this.” The big man closed his eyes halfway and pursed his lips, cocking his head to one side.

  He was mimicking a woman being seductive. And he was serious. It was kind of sweet, in a twisted way. “Oh,” Tensley said. “My face. Right.” She nodded. “I will, and thank you for the reminder, but first I have to send a quick text. Really fast, I promise.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “What the hell. They’ll be here any minute. You don’t send no texts from in here.”

  “Milo,” she pleaded, walking to his side. “If you have ever liked me at all, please let me borrow your cell.”

  “Who you texting?”

  She said the first thing that came into her mind. “My cat sitter.”

  “What?”

  “You know my cat. Gemini.”

  He shook his head, looking at her as if she was crazy. Which she probably was, all things considered.

  “He has a — condition,” she made up on the fly. “And if the cat sitter doesn’t give him his medicine as soon as she comes over, he could — Well, you know. Die.”

  “Die?” He looked skeptical.

  “Yes. Die.” She moved her nose to within an inch of his. “You don’t want that on your conscience. Trust me.”

  Milo hesitated, then reached inside his pocket to pull out an iPhone. “Didn’t know you had a cat,” he mumbled.

  Tensley grabbed it. Thankfully, she had Max’s number committed to memory. The numbers even sounded like him, strong eights and nines. No wimpy twos or zeroes.

  She punched his number into text messaging, then typed out a cryptic note, praying he would understand. “Working extra time at this moment. Cat needs medicine. Come right away if questions. Life or death.”

  Footsteps outside the door, the rattle of a key in the lock.

  “Give it to me,” Milo ordered, putting out his hand.

  Tensley pressed “send” and handed over the phone, steeling herself for what was to come.

  “Face,” Milo hissed.

  She put one hand on her hip and tried to adopt her best seductive expression, though she was pretty sure it looked more like “what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here” than “come-hither.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Milo shoot her an alarmed look, which pretty much confirmed it.

  Tawny opened the door, stepping back to allow two men to step inside. The first was a tall guy with a round, protruding stomach and a double chin. His thick blond hair was faded with streaks of gray and he looked like someone who would laugh so loud, other people would be embarrassed for him. He raised one eyebrow at Tensley and said, “Now you know how to show a customer a good time, doncha?” over his shoulder to whoever was behind him.

  Tensley froze.

  Tawny glared at Tensley.

  Tensley smiled, her upper lip trembling, at Big Blond Guy.

  Seemingly oblivious, he lumbered toward her, eyeing her up and down. “Aren’t you a fine-looking woman.”

  Tawny glided in from the back. “Have a seat, gentlemen,” she said, gesturing at the leather chairs. “Tensley here is going to show you a very good time.”

  “Ah, now,” Big Blond Guy complained with a skeezy smile, “We have to share?”

  “There’s plenty of her to go around,” Tawny purred, arching her back. “I know you’re both gonna enjoy yourselves.”

  The divers in Tensley’s stomach performed synchronized flips.

  “Why don’t you stay, too, honey?”

  “Can’t, big guy. I’ve got a show to do.” Tawny squeezed his arm. She pranced toward the door.

  “Okay,” he said, dropping into a chair and turning a hungry look upward at Tensley
. “I’m ready.”

  She had just taken a deep breath when she saw the man with him, no longer blocked by the other’s large frame. N-o-o-o-o-o. It couldn’t be.

  He gave that half-lidded, Cheshire-cat smile that showed his dimples.

  It was. Bryan-with-a-y-not-an-i.

  “All right, honey,” said Big Blond Guy. “I’m ready for you.”

  Tensley heard a sound like him patting his knee, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from Bryan. What was he doing here? Why didn’t he look mortified that she’d found out he brought customers to a place like this?

  “Hey.” Bryan snapped his fingers at her. “He’s first. Get going.”

  That was why. He didn’t recognize her. Of course he didn’t. They didn’t know each other in this life.

  Asshole. Thought he could snap his fingers at her, did he? She’d snap those fingers right off his hand and — hold on. She might have something better in mind for him …

  She sauntered toward him, relying on her body’s memory of how to do this kind of thing, which hadn’t let her down yet. Thrusting her pelvis, one arm up in the air and then sliding down across her face, her breast, her hip. “You’re first,” she said, her voice low, sultry.

  “What about me?” Big Blond Guy pouted.

  “I always start with the amateurs,” she replied easily, grabbing hold of Bryan’s tie and raising a knee to his chest to push him into a leather chair. He stumbled and sat down hard. “See what I mean?” The look on Bryan’s face said he didn’t know whether to be pissed off or turned on.

  “You’re next, honey,” she said to Big Blond Guy, “but if I don’t take care of this one right away, it’s going to be all over for him. Amateurs don’t know how to hold themselves … if you know what I mean.”

  Big Blond Guy chortled. Bryan wasn’t waffling any more. Now he looked pissed off.

  She undid the belt of her robe, put her hands on the arms of the chair and leaned over him, her enhanced breasts inches away. She shook them.

  “You’d better not be looking for a tip, saying that kind of shit.”

  Why had she never realized what a whiner he was? She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Oh, I think you’ll be giving me a great big, fat tip. Unless you want your wife to know where you’re going on those business dinners. While she’s sitting home in your pretty little house, taking care of the baby.”