by Naomi West
“I never had much of a childhood,” said Grit. “I got passed around from foster home to foster home, and I had to grow up fast—the other kids at the homes had no tolerance for weakness, and I wasn’t about to show them any. As soon as I got out of those places, I swore two things: one, that I’d never have to rely on anyone else, and two, that if I ever had a son or daughter of my own, I’d never let them grow up without being there for them at every step of the way.”
Honey felt tears form in her eyes as Grit talked. She could tell that he was opening up to her in a way that he might’ve never opened up to anyone before.
“And after all this time, here I am, ready to let a woman into my life and rely on her to be the mother that I know she can be.”
He took Honey’s chin into his hand and looked deep into her eyes.
“Honey, I know this is strange for both of us, and more than a little frightening. But if there’s one woman I want at my side during a journey like this, it’s you.”
Tears streamed down Honey’s eyes. She’d never before felt so overwhelmed with joy. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the words she wanted to say back to him. Just hearing him speak was enough to fill her with the kinds of emotions that she’d never felt she’d share with another man.
“Then, if you’re ready, I am too,” said Grit.
Honey smiled.
“I’m more than ready, Grit. Let’s do this. Together.”
Chapter Twenty
Honey
Ten months later …
“Okay,” said Honey. “Now, stretch!”
Honey placed her foot on the barre in front of her, her tiny foot clad in a light pink ballet slipper. The muscles of her leg felt hot and tense at first, but as she rested her foot on the elevated barre, blood began to rush through her muscles, the feeling of tight tension replaced with one of loose suppleness.,
Honey scanned the room at the women in various stages of pregnancy, from skinny suburban moms in expensive gym wear stretched around tiny, almost fashionable baby bumps, to thicker-bodied women with cheap muumuus draped over baby bellies that looked like they might burst at any second. They all seemed to be staring at her with the same expression of confusion.
“Come on, girls,” said Honey. “Get those legs on up there!”
“Um,” started one of the women, a trim, young girl with blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. “That’s … really high up. How do you even do that?”
Honey’s eyes shot to her foot where it lay on the barre and she realized that the girl was right: it was fairly high up. In fact, her foot was on one of the barres that she hadn’t been able to reach since she was in the early months of her pregnancy. She regarded the elevation of her foot with a small, proud smile; she knew that it meant that her body was recovering nicely after her pregnancy. Soon, she understood, she’d be back to her full strength and ready to take this class to the next level.
Sure enough, as she glanced over to one of the mirror-lined walls of the ballet practice room, she saw that her slim body was in quite the contortion.
For now, she thought, I might want to go easy on these girls. Some of them look like the most stretching they’ve ever done involves whatever their husbands and boyfriends want in the bedroom.
“Hmm,” said Honey, speaking out loud to the class. “Might be a little advanced for a beginner class.”
She kept her leg propped up on the bar, the position becoming easier by the second.
“But here’s what I’m gonna expect out of you all in the next few months.”
“No way!” said another one of the women, a fatter woman in her mid-thirties, dressed in expensive-looking exercise wear. “There’s no way that I’ll be able to do that. Your foot’s, like, higher than the rest of your body! You look like a pro!”
“Well, I am a pro,” said Honey, a smile on her face. “I am teaching this class, after all.”
With a fluid, graceful motion, she brought her foot off of the barre, held it in the air for several moments, her toes pointed above the heads of the women. Then, feeling in total control of her body, she brought her foot down onto the ground. Then, she raised her hands above her head in true ballet style.
Slight gasps slipped out of the mouths of the women in the class. Honey couldn’t help but feel a little pride herself; truth be told, she was just as surprised with her movements as the rest of the girls were.
“Just a little something to look forward to,” said Honey. “But let’s start with some more basics. But make no mistake—in a few months, you’re all going to be doing moves that’re going to be so fluid and graceful that you’re going to feel like you’ve stepped out of your own body. There’s grace in all of you, and it’s my job to help you bring it out.”
Honey scanned the room and saw that all of the women had smiles on their faces.
“Now,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and taking her teacher tone, “let’s start the class for today with some pointe exercises. A good pointe is the foundation of any good ballet technique, and I’m going to hammer you all hard until we get it down pat.”
“Would be easier if I didn’t have two little monsters about to shoot out of me,” said one of the women, a petite, slim brunette with one of the biggest baby bumps that Honey had ever seen, a teasing smile on her face.”
“Well,” said Honey, “if you can pull it off now, just imagine how easy it’ll be when you’re not carrying a set of twins around. Maybe they’ll learn a thing or two and come out pirouetting. Now, when I say ‘pointe,’ then stand on those little tiptoes of yours. Ready?”
The class all nodded in eager anticipation, and Honey gave the command.
“Pointe!”
The girls stood up on their tiptoes, some having more trouble than others.
“Down!”
The girls fell back on their feet, relief washing over the faces.
“Pointe!”
“Down!”
“Pointe!”
“Down!”
“Pointe! And hold!”
Honey watched the women as they struggled to hold their positions She walked slowly in front of the line of women, carefully examining their position and posture. And all of the women did their best to hold the pointe. During her time as a ballet instructor for expecting women, she’d found that she had somewhat of a knack for inspiring her students to want to impress her. And she intended to use that skill for all she could get out of it.
The rest of the class time passed, and soon, the hour was up. Her students all were exhausted, loose, and their skin shone with sweat.
“Great class, everyone,” said Honey, looking over her students. “Now look at yourselves in the mirrors—every last one of you has that lovely pregnant glow. And all of you did awesome today! See you next week, same time.”
The girls broke up, chatting among themselves as the class dismissed. Honey took up a position by the door, saying her goodbyes to her students, all of them seeming fresher and sprier after the hour that Honey had put them through.
Soon, the students were gone, and Honey was alone in her ballet classroom. She walked over to the back wall, the top half of which was a long window that looked out onto the suburban office park where the gym where she worked was located. She’d never thought she’d be happy to be in suburbia, but now that she had a job that didn’t involve her straddling a gold pole into the small hours of the morning, she realized that she couldn’t be happier.
“You know, when a former stripper came in here and asked for a job, I couldn’t help but be a little skeptical.”
Honey turned and saw that the voice belonged to Melanie, one of the owners of Maxx Gym, the place where Honey had been working for nearly a year. Melanie was a brunette in her mid-thirties with close-cropped blonde hair and the sort of tight, toned body that girls half her age would kill to have.
“But every time one of your class gets out, every girl has the same beaming smile on her face. I don’t know how you do it, Honey, but you�
�re really kicking ass here.”
Honey flashed her a smile as she stepped away from the windows and approached her boss.
“I don’t know,” said Honey. “I just really, really love doing this. I’ve always loved to dance, but stripping is all I thought I could handle. But now that I’m teaching students, I don’t know, I just found that I have a passion for it. I never thought I’d have a job that I actually looked forward to coming into.”
Melanie nodded, pleased with the answer.
“Let me get you a protein shake, on the house.”
“Sounds perfect.”
The two women left the ballet room and began walking side by side through the hallway that led to the main gym floor. Once they reached the area, Honey took a look around the place.
Maxx Gym was a three-story, ultra-modern gym that catered to the elite of the Vegas suburbs. The place was packed full of hard-bodied men and women in expensive workout gear, all of the clients looking like they’d just stepped off of the cover of a fitness magazine. The weights and exercise machines all were sleek chrome and black, and upbeat dance music blasted through the space.
I can’t get over how this place is pretty much the exact opposite of Fantasies, though Honey as she and Melanie walked up to the top floor, where the shake bar was located. The two of them did some meet-and-greets, saying their hellos to regular clients. After a time, they arrived at the bar and Melanie ordered them two mango protein shakes.
“Coming up on a year here,” said Melanie.
“I know,” said Honey. “I can’t believe it’s happened so fast. It feels like just yesterday that I came in here, asking you if you were hiring.”
“And it feels like just yesterday that you had the baby bump to end all baby bumps,” said Melanie.
Honey looked down at her now-flat stomach, still not used to how light she felt now that she didn’t have to tote a baby around inside of her.
“No kidding,” she said.
“How is Elise doing?” asked Melanie, referring to Honey’s newborn baby.
“Amazing,” said Honey. “She’s getting bigger every day, and … I don’t know, I still can’t believe I’m a mother. It’s so strange to me. But I love it.”
Honey thought about her adorable baby girl, who was currently in the nursery at the bottom level of the outdoor mall where Maxx Gym was located. Honey wished that she was holding her baby in her arms right at that moment, and a smile formed on her face as she imagined it.
“And how’s the BD doing?” Melanie asked, a sly smile on her face.
“Good,” said Honey, giving her boss a playful slap at her referring to Grit by “BD,” the nickname that she’d given him, which was short for “baby daddy.” “Still working his ass off, like, every hour of the day.”
“That’s men for you,” said Melanie. “They’re all nervous before the baby comes, but as soon as they get the chance to hold it in their arms for a while, they turn into insane work machines, trying to provide for the kid. At least, the good ones do.”
Melanie was the mother of three kids herself, so Honey always listened when she had bits of advice to offer about motherhood.
“I know,” said Honey, “But still, I wished he’d commit to a little more than just providing. I mean, he’s a great father to Elise when he’s there, but he doesn’t get that just bringing in money isn’t what a baby needs. She needs her mother and father there for her.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Melanie. “He’ll come around, I’m sure. He’s just doing what he thinks a man needs to do.”
Melanie looked down for a moment in thought before flicking her hazel eyes back up to Honey.
“But he’s still not living with you, right?” she asked.
“Nope,” said Honey, feeling a little tense at the bringing-up of one of the biggest frustrations of her relationship with Grit.
“I mean, I’d kind of get it if he wasn’t super-hyped to put a ring on it, but I still have a hard time believing that he lives separately from you. That shit needs to change, girl.”
Honey nodded.
“I know, I know,” she said. “It’s just that he wants to keep Elise as far away from his work life as possible. But … I just want him around.”
“Well, keep pecking away at him,” said Melanie. “That’s the trick to men—just wear ’em down over time.”
The shake bar clerk then brought over two tall plastic cups, each filled with a light-yellow protein shake. Honey took a sip of hers, letting the creamy, rich shake linger on her tongue as her eyes drifted up towards the TV in the corner of the place. The news was playing and she saw that there was some kind of breaking bulletin on the screen. It appeared to be footage of nearly a dozen police cars with flashing lights parked outside of an office building in downtown Vegas. Cops were gathered out front and were leading men in handcuffs into the back of police cars. And as soon as the camera pulled in close enough to see who the men were, Honey gasped.
One of them was Emile Van Graff, one of the bosses of the crime organization that owned Fantasies.
“Hey, Mark,” called out Honey to the shake bar employee. “Can you turn the volume up?”
He nodded and pointed towards the screen with his remote.
“… a break in the case by Vegas PD resulted in the arrest of dozens of members of the Bentley crime syndicate, one of the largest criminal operations in the state. Police spokesmen have informed us that this group has been linked by police to the fire at Fantasies Strip Club nearly a year ago, in which the remains of a large-scale drug operation were found beneath the rubble of the building.”
The picture changed to that of a stern-faced man in a police uniform, standing at a podium and addressing a crowd of reporters.
“We’ve been waiting for a break in the case, and just recently with the linking via DNA evidence of the Bentley crime syndicate to several murders in the city, we had enough to bring in just about every high-up in the organization. We feel good about our case, and we hope to have all of these men off the streets for a long, long time.”
Honey stared at the TV in disbelief. For nearly the last year she’d spent every night worrying whether Emile and his associates were going to finally make their move and exact revenge on Honey and Grit for what they’d done to them so long ago. But now that was all over. Honey couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Yo, Honey,” said Melanie. “Earth to Honey.”
Honey shook her head and snapped back to reality.
“Really interested in the news all of a sudden?” asked Melanie.
Honey shared plenty with Melanie, but this part of her life she’d kept a secret. And she intended to keep it that way.
“Those were the guys that owned the club where I used to work,” said Honey. “Just happy to see them in jail.”
Melanie nodded.
“Nice thing about working at a place like this: you don’t have to work with criminal thugs. Rich assholes, yes—but no one who needs to be behind bars.”
Then a buzz sounded from Honey’s bag. She reached into it, grabbed her phone, and saw that it was a text from Grit.
Check the news.
Honey typed back.
I saw. I can’t believe it.
Moments later came the response.
I think a celebration is in order. Your place at eight?
Perfect.
The rest of the workday flew by, and soon Honey was walking towards her car, baby Elise tucked into a Baby Bjorn and held close to Honey’s chest. The baby cooed happily as Honey strapped her into her car seat, and Honey couldn’t help but kiss and squeeze her. As she made sure the straps were secure, she looked over Elise, still having a hard time believing just how much she looked like her father.
Honey took a look at her car before she stepped inside of it. I car was a sleek, late-model SUV, the sort that was perfect for a mother, and the kind of car that Honey thought she’d never be able to afford.
And it made her think of Bethany e
very time she saw it.
Months ago, after the situation with Charlie had long finished, Honey had received an official-looking letter in the mail from one of the local attorneys in the area. Honey, confused, had opened it. As she’d looked over the contents, she couldn’t believe what she read.
The letter had informed her that Bethany had left Honey as the sole beneficiary of her property and of her life insurance policy. The amount left to her was in the hundreds of thousands, and the letter had let her know that the lawyer and Honey would soon need to meet in order to get the process in motion. When she’d finally met with the lawyer, he’d handed over a note with the rest of the information, a note written by Bethany.
