by Laura Lee
“How was I supposed to know? I’ve never had detention before.”
His eyebrows lift. “Never?”
“Never,” I repeat. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Oh, I don’t know…maybe because you’re one of the most obstinate people I’ve ever met? You also curse like a sailor. I’m sure that’s ticked off a teacher every now and again.”
I smile. “Maybe you bring out my bad side. Ask around; you’ll find that I’m an exemplary student.”
Gavin chuckles as he rustles through his lunch sack. He places a sandwich on the desk in front of me. “Here, eat this.”
“I’m not going to take your lunch.”
“It’s my fault you don’t have a lunch. I can get something later.”
My initial instinct is to argue but then I consider that this will likely be the only chance I get to eat for the rest of the day. I unwrap the sandwich and take a bite.
“Mmm, you make the best sandwiches. I should change your name to the Sandwich Man.”
He takes a bite of an apple. “Nah, I think we should stick with Sparkles.”
MY NEW JOB HAS BEEN MUCH DIFFERENT than expected. On my first day, I met with the house mother, Shawn, who was a dancer in her youth. Now she’s in charge of training, wardrobe, and making sure everything runs smoothly. She’s actually very sweet and seems to have a genuine concern for the girls.
The Pitiful Princess apparently has a reputation to uphold, so I’m not allowed to start working the floor until Shawn has decided I’m ready. I’ve met with her every day after school learning classic pole and lap dance moves. Other girls come in on occasion to lend their expertise as well. Over the past three weeks, I haven’t had to remove any clothing in front of an audience. Hell, I haven’t even been out in the public spaces yet. I mostly train before opening or in an empty VIP room. Let’s face it—the real money is in the tips and commissions so it’d be in my best interest to get out there as soon as possible. Like I said before, I’m a quick study, but this shit isn’t as easy as it looks.
I could barely walk after my first week. I had sore muscles in places that I didn’t even know had muscles. My entire body has been conditioned to the point of exhaustion. I do have to admit that I’m pleased with the results though. I’ve been blessed with curves on a naturally thin frame but I never really had any muscle definition before. Now, my thighs are tighter, my arms more sculpted, and my previously weak core feels stronger. My posture is even better. I guess the term dancer’s body isn’t exclusive to a discipline that requires clothing. I can only imagine what I’ll look like with continued practice.
“Verra’ good, lass.” Did I mention Shawn is from Scotland?
I just successfully executed an inverted twist called the Russian Lay Back. I’ve been working on the damn move for two days. I hop on the balls of my feet in excitement. “I finally did it!”
Trina, one of my fellow dancers, holds up her hand for a high five. “Nice job, girl! I think you’re ready to get out there!”
“Do you think so?” I ask Shawn.
“Aye,” she says. “I think you’re ready to start making some money. How do you feel about that?”
How do I feel about that? I can’t say I’m excited to bare all to the general public, but I’m definitely excited about having a roof over my head and food in the fridge. Now that I’ve had some practice, I certainly feel more confident.
“I’d like to try.”
“Great,” she replies. “I’ll tell Brandon you’re ready to show him what you’ve got. If he signs off on it, maybe we can get you on stage tomorrow night. The lads are going to love you; I’m sure of it.”
I get home later that evening and find Cybil waiting for me. She’s wearing a low-cut black cocktail dress with her hair swept into a twist. Very fancy, especially for a Thursday night.
“Hi, honey. I was hoping you’d get home before I turned in.”
“Are you working tonight?” I ask.
“No, I accompanied Marcus to a business dinner. Some Japanese investors are in town and he’s showing them around.”
I maneuver around the U-Haul boxes stacked by the front door. “What’d you want to talk about, Cybil?”
“Marcus tells me you’re ready to hit the stage. I wanted to congratulate you. He’s very excited about showing you off.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom. I’m so glad you’re proud that I’ll be shaking my titties for a living.”
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to be a smartass about it, Katherine. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of women do this for a living. Marcus tells me some of his past dancers have become doctors, lawyers, veterinarians, you name it. There’s no shame in exploiting what God gave you.”
“You’re the expert when it comes to exploiting your body.”
“My point was that it’s a respectable way to support yourself,” she huffs.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t. Most of the girls who work there are actually pretty cool. But here’s the thing—they’re stripping to make their way through college. I’m the only one still in high school. You’re not supposed to worry about being a grown-up until graduation. But let’s be real. Shall we? You and I both know I’ve been the only responsible one around here for a long time, so what’s new? You can’t take care of a plant, let alone your own kid. I’d be better off without you in my life. You’re pathetic.”
I didn’t see it coming until it was too late. Her slap reverberates throughout the room as the pain sets in. I rub my aching cheek, part shocked that she actually laid a hand on me, and part resigned, not surprised at all that she would take things to the next level. I’ve had to endure so much from her throughout my life, what’s one more thing?
“You ungrateful little whore!” she screams.
“That’s rich, Mother. I guess you have to be one to know one, huh?”
I wipe the stupid tear from my eye and turn around to walk out the door. Without another thought, I start my car and drive to the one place that I shouldn’t go.
I POUND ANGRILY ON THE FRONT DOOR. I hate Cybil for making me feel so weak. I hate her for loving drugs more than she loves me. I hate her for the pain I still feel on my face. I hate her for fucking existing. Life would be much easier if she’d just go away.
I knock even louder. “C’mon, Gavin. Open the door. I know you’re there; your car’s in the driveway.”
I blink as the porch light comes on and the door cracks open. Inside the frame stands a statuesque woman, wearing nothing but a long t-shirt.
“May I help you?” she asks in a stupidly melodic voice.
Shit! Why did I assume he’d be alone? Just because I can’t seem to move past him, doesn’t mean he should have the same problem. Shit! Shit! Shit!
“Oh, um…I’m sorry; I must have the wrong house.”
The door opens wider, revealing Gavin wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pajama pants. I can’t seem to stop myself from checking out his finely sculpted abs.
“Elle, what’s—” We make eye contact. “Oh. Kat, what are you doing here?”
I wipe a traitorous tear from my eye. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.”
I try making a quick retreat but he grabs my wrist. “Wait a minute.”
I turn around and look toward the beautiful brunette eyeing us with curiosity. “No, you have company. I should go.”
He sighs. “Kat, this is my sister, Elle. She’s visiting from California. Elle, this is my…friend, Kat Kennedy.”
Sister? I’m more relieved than I should be about that.
“Um, hi,” I offer awkwardly.
She smiles. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” She looks to Gavin. “Gav, I’m going back to bed. I have a feeling I’ll see you later, Kat.”
Damn it, I clearly woke them; I didn’t consider the time when I drove here. Oh, who am I kidding? I didn’t consider anything.
He tugs on my hand, leading me into the house. “C’mon, it’s freezing out here
.”
I dig my heels in. “No, I should go. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Kat, don’t make me haul your ass inside. You’re obviously upset. Now get in the house and talk to me about it. Coat?” He holds his hand out expectantly as I walk into the foyer.
Fuck, I’m still wearing my clothes from the club. I clutch the coat tighter around my body.
“No, that’s okay; I’ll keep it on.”
He notices my bare legs. “Are you wearing anything underneath?”
Geez, did he think I came here to seduce him? I know, I know; my past behavior says that wouldn’t be too far-fetched.
“Of course I am! I’m wearing my…workout clothes.”
He extends his arm further, challenging me to hand over my coat. “Prove it.”
“Fine,” I agree as I shrug my coat off and throw it to him. “But I expect you to apologize for being a jackass.”
He catches my jacket and stands immobile, staring at me with wide eyes. I’m wearing a white spaghetti strap tank top from the club with the word Princess stamped across my breasts and a pair of black booty shorts. Okay, so it may not be much, but everything is covered at least. I follow his gaze to see what the big deal is. Oh. Okay, so I’m not wearing a bra (why bother when you have to take it off anyway?) and apparently, I’m still cold from being outside. My nipples are sticking out like giant beacons in the night.
“You went to the gym dressed in that?!”
“I didn’t say I was at the gym.”
“Well then where were y—” His eyes open further and he advances upon me. Gently touching the side of my face he says, “Kat, why the fuck is your cheek red and puffy?”
What? My face still stings but I never thought to check for marks. Great, how do I explain this?
I cover his hand with my own. “Um…” I’m so embarrassed that he’s seeing me like this I’m speechless. I’m never speechless.
His expression softens as he cradles my face. “Please talk to me.”
“I can’t.”
He crouches down to look me in the eyes. “Kat, you’re going to need to find the words. Because right now, I’m imagining all sorts of possibilities and making a list of people that I need to hurt.”
I smile. I know it’s wrong, and I know we can’t explore anything, but the fact that he seems so invested tells me that I’m not the only one feeling this way. God, why does the one person I’d actually want to be with be the one person I can’t be with?
“It was my mom,” I admit. “I said something that I probably shouldn’t have, and she slapped me across the face. Really hard.”
Gavin clenches his jaw. “Has she hit you before?”
“No. Never.”
He straightens and grabs my hand, leading me down the hall. I remain silent as we cross into his bedroom and he closes the door. He shuffles through a dresser drawer and pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting some clothes for you.”
“Why?”
He waves his hand up and down. “Because I can’t stand here another minute with you dressed like that and not act on it. But I’m not letting you leave either. I don’t want you to be alone tonight. I thought you might want to take a hot shower before coming to bed.”
My heart rate picks up. “Are you crazy? I can’t stay here. The fact that I came here in the first place has to be against some rule.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the rules right now,” he says with complete conviction. “You need a friend and that’s what I’m going to be. I’ll sleep on the couch—I don’t care where I am as long as I know you’re safe.”
I pick up the shirt he laid out for me and pull it over my head. I crawl toward the bed and slide under the covers, sighing when my head hits the pillow.
“You don’t want to take a shower first?”
“No. I just want to forget tonight ever happened.”
“Oh. Okay. Well…I’ll be out in the living room if you need anything.”
I sit up. “Gavin, don’t go.”
He looks at the empty spot on the bed. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Please just stay with me for a bit.”
He joins me on the bed and lays down on top of the covers. “Do you want me to turn something on from Netflix?”
“Sure. What’d you have in mind?”
He gets a boyish smile on his face. “Okay…if anyone asks about this, I will deny it until I’m six feet under.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m going through a Dawson’s Creek binge right now. Wanna watch it with me?”
I can’t help it; I laugh until I’m snorting. “Are you serious?”
Gavin grabs the remote and begins flipping through the menu. “Completely serious. I never joke about The Creek.”
“Wow…I have no words.”
He bumps his shoulder into mine. “C’mon, you’ll love it. Have you ever seen it before?”
“Of course I have!” I reply. “Do you know how many Dawson ugly cry memes there are in existence? I had to know the source.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely Team Pacey all the way. Dawson is way overrated.”
I smirk. “Oh my God, when did you grow a vagina? I could’ve sworn you were a dude.”
His expression changes from jovial to angry in an instant. “We both know damn well I’m one-hundred-percent male. Don’t make me prove it to you, Kat.”
And with that, my expression morphs into equal parts stunned and horny. “Uh…”
He clears his throat and pushes a button on the remote. “And on that note…let’s forget I said that and get lost in North Carolina teen angst.”
“Okay, but make sure it’s an episode that has Mitch in it. Dawson’s dad is where it’s at.”
“You like older men, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”
I burrow under the covers and yawn. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
He smirks. “Pretty much.”
“Just hit play, smartass.”
“Now that, I can do.” He presses play and the opening sequence begins.
As we lay there watching the show, I begin to slowly drift off. I smile softly when I feel Gavin petting my hair. My eyes close as I give myself over to this wonderful feeling. For the first time in my life, I fall asleep feeling completely safe.
THE DOORBELL RINGS AGAIN so I get up to answer it. When I open the door, I see two men around my foster-dad Pete’s age standing there smiling.
“Hi, come on in. The guys are just getting set up in the kitchen.”
My foster-mom, Judy, is a night nurse at the hospital one town over. She works twelve hour shifts so I don’t see her much on work days. Pete works from home with some tech-based job so he’s the one here with me more often than not. He’s pretty laid back so it’s cool. I’ve been with the Andersons for four months now and I have to admit that it’s the most stable home I’ve known. We have meals together, movie nights, and other normal family stuff. Judy once shared with me that she and Pete opened their house because they were unable to conceive. She wanted children desperately but she had issues with egg supply or something like that. They figured that fostering was the next best thing so they could still make a difference in a child’s life.
She even took me clothes shopping before school started. I’ve never had the luxury of buying multiple outfits at one time just because a new year was beginning. Especially not brand new clothing from the mall. Now than I’m in high school, I’m learning that appearances are more important than ever. If you want to fit in, you have to look a certain way and act a certain way. Being bounced around throughout my life, I’ve learned some tricks about being accepted pretty easily and they seem to be working. High school has actually been fun. I have lots of new friends and dare I say, my first sorta boyfriend. Judy and Pete say I’m too young to date, but they have let Stephen come over to hang out as long as adults are pr
esent. Most kids my age would gripe about having rules and things like supervision, but to me, it’s a refreshing change of pace. I like the fact that they care enough to make rules.
Pete is having some friends over for poker so he said I could invite Stephen. While the grown-ups are socializing, Stephen and I will be in the basement watching a movie. Speaking of…the bell rings again and I open it to see my favorite face in the whole world smiling back at me.
“Hi,” I whisper.
I can feel my cheeks flushing which is so embarrassing. I don’t know why I’m so painfully shy around boys. I’m sure a head doctor would attribute that to seeing some of the men my mom usually hangs out with, but I don’t know. Those guys give me creepy looks every now and again, especially since I grew boobs, but they ignore me for the most part.
“Hi, beautiful.”
Stephen pulls me into a hug and I melt. He’s so sweet and cute; I don’t know how I got so lucky. He’s a junior and already the captain of the varsity soccer team. He’s super patient with me too. I know he’s been with other girls who let him have sex with them but at fifteen, I’m just not ready yet. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely have sex-type feelings sometimes, especially when Stephen and I are making out, but we haven’t gone past second base.
I invite him over to the kitchen and throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Once it’s ready, we make our way downstairs with an assortment of snacks and sodas.
“Thanks, babe. You’re awesome.”
I smile as I settle in next to him and grab the remote to start the movie. He gets a mischievous grin on his face as he reaches into his coat pocket. He produces a little flask and holds it up.
“I thought we could have some extra fun tonight.”
“Is there alcohol in there?”
“Yep,” he grins. “I swiped some rum from my old man’s liquor cabinet. It will go great with the soda.”
“I don’t know, Stephen. If Pete finds out, he’ll be really mad.”
“C’mon, baby; he’ll never know. The door to the basement is closed and they’ll be busy drinking beer and playing cards for hours. We don’t have to have much—just enough to get a good buzz.”
