by H. M. Ward
I pull the car away from the apartment, Cassie by my side and Beth shoved in the backseat. I drive away, watching the flames in the rearview mirror. Today is a turning point for Cassie, for us. The past is burning behind us, and I’m glad.
CHAPTER 28
CASSIE
The new noises—the constant traffic and blaring car horns—take some getting used to, but our height goes a long way to muffle the sounds on the street. We’re in the penthouse with a stellar view of Central Park. The windows wrap around Jon's apartment, creating a panoramic frame for the city skyline.
I’m perched on Jon's sofa, wearing his robe, a cup of coffee in my hands while I watch the sunrise. Beth is still asleep in the guest bedroom. On the coffee table, an old newspaper lays open to a brief article about a meth lab explosion. I continually worried about Mark showing up, hurting me, and dragging me back with him. But that's over now. He got so close to me it makes me shiver to consider the possibilities.
Mark was watching us from across the street, waiting for the opportune time to strike, but completely unaware of the drug deal going wrong in the basement below him. When the meth lab blew, it killed everyone inside the house—including Mark. The authorities assumed he was just another drug dealer, but I know better. I know why he was there in that specific building. He was there to watch me.
I don’t have to worry about Mark ever again. I don’t have to see him at a divorce hearing. I don’t have to get a restraining order or press charges when he comes after me again. After all those years of running and hiding, it’s over. I’m free from him. I no longer need to jump at every sound, wondering if it’s him.
My legs are curled up under me. Since we abandoned the apartment Beth and I shared, I've spent a blissful series of nights next to Jon in his huge bed. Last night he held me for a long time, kissing me lightly as we spooned. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe. Content.
Beth staggers out moaning something that sounds like troll-speak for coffee and plops down next to me. She takes my cup and chugs it. When she finishes, she turns her head slowly and glances at me. “You skipped work again last night. Cheater.”
I grin. “Jon said he wanted me to wait until it was done to see all the changes he made.”
Her brows lift up into her bangs, and she bobs her head up and down. “That’s the truth. So, do you want me to tell you what's going on?”
“Don't ruin his surprise!” I smack her with one of the small white throw pillows. “He’s been working so hard on it, and he seems really excited.” I have no clue what he did, but he’s proud, so I want to hear about it. It's hard not to take her bait.
Beth takes the pillow and sinks back into the couch. Her arm flops to the side as she rolls to set the mug down on the coffee table before hugging the assaulting pillow to her chest. “Fine, but your boy did a good thing. I love my job.”
“Wow, I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“I know, right? It’s really something. Even Bruce is speechless.” After a moment, she tickles me with her bare foot. “How are you doing? I’d be an emotional train wreck if I were you. You okay?”
She's referring to Mark. I nod and settle back into the fluffy pillows to watch shades of amber and coral streak across the city skyline. Shadows shift against the ground below, but I’m up in the clouds watching the early morning sunlight spill across the sky and pierce the space between the steel towers that make up this amazing city.
“I’m doing better than I thought. He’s dead, Beth. Gone. I don’t have to jump every time I hear a noise. He’ll never be in my life again. You have no idea how good that feels. It's like that entire mistake never happened. Well, for the most part.”
Beth knows what I’m talking about. It’s a sensitive topic, but I found that talking to someone helps. She has ideas that Jon doesn’t think of, mainly because she’s a woman, and she understands some things differently because of it. “Have you been able to be with him?”
“A little.” My face flames when I think about it.
Beth notices. “That’s more than a little. Seriously? You were able to, and you’re ok?”
I’m bright red, but I’m happy. I nod and avoid her eyes. “The cream they compounded for me worked really well.” The doctor suggested it after seeing me. It has a topical analgesic in it to minimize the pain and oversensitivity of the scar.
“Yeah?”
I take a sip of coffee and then nod. “Yeah, it helped a lot. I thought I wouldn’t be able to feel anything, but it didn’t do that. It just numbed the scar. Jon was gentle, and it worked. I didn’t cry. It didn’t make me feel sick. It felt really good to be that close to him, to be with him. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to, you know?”
Beth is lying on her side, watching the sun come up. “I know, and I’m so happy for you. When things down there don’t work right, it sucks. It’s manageable, but I’m glad you don’t have your shop totally closed for business if you know what I mean.”
“Everyone knows what you mean.” I look at her and giggle.
She’s right about that. I could have lived without having sex again, but I’m glad I didn’t have to. I’d rather start over, figure it all out, and do it this way. The fact that Jon is so patient and tender astounds me. He knows the savage side of sex, the carnal kisses and hot bodies twisted together, but this kind of lovemaking is new to him, too.
It’s not hard and sharp with sweat and screams. It’s gentle and adoring, tender and evocative. He brings me high and undoes me. As I come back down, I lie in his arms and feel his breath on my cheek.
I delight in the little things overlooked by most people. The way his hands hold my hips, the curve of his back as he pushes into me, the soft whispers of his voice as he asks me if I like what he’s doing. I’ve never been so open with another person, so vulnerable and elated to be that way. I don't feel caged with him, and we’re not missing out on anything. We’ve both had rough sex, been used, and burned. Monica messed him up badly. If she hadn’t come and gone, I don’t know who he would have been, but I think meeting me later after all this happened brought him back.
Sex isn’t a game. It’s not something to take. It’s something to give, something to share. There’s a gentle dance, a back and forth of emotion that fills my body and makes me shatter in his arms.
I didn’t know it could be like this, and I worried that Jon wanted the other—the rough possession. But he doesn’t. Those days have passed for him. This path is terrifying because it requires all of him. It’s not just his body. It’s his mind and every emotion, too. No one lives like that intentionally, even for a moment, because it feels like he can crush me so easily. There are no walls up, nothing to protect me if he changes his mind. It requires a massive amount of trust for both of us. It’s not easy to do, even if only for a little bit at a time. People don’t talk this way. They aren’t so forthcoming, but when we are—when we finally let our walls drop—we can truly become one.
Beth sits up and rubs her eyes. “So, what’s the plan for the day? I heard Jon was taking you to the helipad later.”
Smiling, I nod and set my mug down on the table. “Yeah, he said he wanted to show me something after I check out the new Club Ferro.”
“Cool, do you know where you’re going?” A grin spills across her face, and she beams at me. “Because I do! It’s so awesome!” She clasps her hands giddy.
My jaw drops. “How’d you find out?”
“I heard him talking to someone about it.”
“Tell me. No, wait. Don’t.” I make a face, push out my lower lip and bite my cheek. “Yeah, tell me.”
Beth laughs and shakes her head. “No way. But I will give you a tip—wear that sundress he bought you. You look pretty in it, and it’s comfy.”
Only twelve hours until tonight. I can’t wait that long.
CHAPTER 29
CASSIE
We speed out to Long Island, to the club. Jon is driving with an excited vibe about him. He’s we
aring a nice suit and has a light dusting of stubble on his jaw. His eyes look brighter when he doesn’t shave. That dark hair makes the blue so rich and vibrant.
He has that chunky watch on his wrist that cost a fortune and a pair of black pants that hug his ass in a way that’s hard not to notice. It's like staring at the sun. I think angels sing while he walks, and it takes everything I have within me to not pinch him right then.
He’s got a soft button-down shirt on with no tie, and his jacket is across the shallow backseat. He downshifts, making the car purr, and cuts through traffic.
I adjust the strap on my sundress and look over at him. “So, are you going to tell me anything about our dinner plans?”
“Nope.” Jon grins, shifts again, and bobs around another car.
“Not even a hint?”
He glances over at me, his hand on the gearshift, and sighs. “Okay, a little one. We’re not having dinner at the club.”
My face crunches up. Unless he means crackers and peanuts, I wouldn’t have said the club serves dinner at all. His meaning finally dawns on me. “Wow, you serve food now?”
“Wait and see.” After a few more turns, we’re pulling into a newly paved parking lot.
It looks like a different building. Club Ferro glows in purple neon on the outside of a limestone building with thick dark wood beams surrounding the front door and supporting the roof. Glowing in the dim light, the building resembles a little French chateau lost in New York.
“Jon, it’s beautiful.” I don’t know how he got this done so fast. It’s only been a few weeks since he bought it, but it's barely recognizable.
After we park, he circles the car to open my door and takes my hand. When I step out, I notice the custom brickwork on the path to the brand new front door. It’s not even in the same spot in the wall. Instead, we’re standing in front of two double doors facing the street. The dark new color and intricate wrought iron scrolling contrast nicely against the pale stone veneer. It’s beautiful. It makes me wonder what I’m going to find inside.
He pulls the door open, and we enter the main room. The floors have been ripped up and replaced with dark, polished concrete. The walls are dark brown leather attached with decorative golden brads. The rich purple chairs are still here, but now they look like they belong. The light fixtures cast the perfect amount of golden light on the tables. The biggest change, however, is the stage area. Instead of three platforms, there’s one large stage minus the poles. A massive velvet curtain hangs closed across the front of it. A spotlight shines down on the heavy plum colored drapery, illuminating the ruched fabric and golden tassels.
I blink rapidly and look around. The girls are wearing dark purple corsets with fitted jackets and short black skirts. They all have matching thick black velvet headbands and tight chignons at the napes of their necks.
Gretchen sees us and rushes over. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to run, but this is more than I ever dreamed. Jon, you took my ideas and made them even better. This, just, OMG!” She covers her mouth with her hand and blinks rapidly. “Thank you! It’s a marvelous place to be, and I'm beyond excited I get to work here.” She squeals and rushes off.
I glance at Jon. “You planned this with Gretchen?”
“She has an interior design degree she wasn’t using. I saw it in her file when I bought the place. I brainstormed with her and a few other girls who had hidden talents, and we came up with this. It’s not a strip club anymore, but that revenue was too important to the top dancers to take away. So we talked about it and came up with this idea. It’s a vintage-style burlesque and dinner club for men.”
I blink at him. “Is that code for a fancy strip club?”
He shakes his head, holds out a hand and leads me to a booth. We slide in, and he hands me a leather bound menu. “No, it’s not. The stage is for performances. They’ll start one in a moment. Instead of exposing everything, it’s more of a traditional burlesque—it’s about the dance. The girls are never completely naked. That’s not the point. It’s about movement, empowerment, and the woman showing the men what she thinks is a powerful display of seduction. To choreograph our new shows, I hired a woman who trained as a classical ballet dancer. She fell in love with Betty Paige style pinups and started a neo-burlesque revival a few years back in England.”
I don’t understand. “So the other girls got demoted to waitresses?”
“No, they’re all part of the show. It’s a full-blown production. Tonight is a practice run, a dress rehearsal if you will. The club doesn’t officially reopen until next week. We rebranded, and advertisements are running. My hope is to pull in a more refined crowd with more money. The girls can work less, and it’ll keep this place from turning into a money pit. It's possible we could even turn a profit in the first year—which is unusual.”
I’m about to tell him how proud I am that he did this. He pulled on the talents hidden in plain sight and turned this place into something unique. Before I can say anything, people pour out of the wing of the stage and sit down in a small area. Their brass instruments flash in their hands as they take their seats and quickly ready themselves. The horns play a quick jazz number then the curtain pulls up toward the ceiling and then back to the side.
Jon sits back and folds his arms across his chest. I feel his gaze shift and look away fast, as if he wants to know what I think.
White smoke fills the stage, flooding it from somewhere in the darkness behind. As the music pulses through me, several former dancers appear in black corsets and lavish headdresses adorned with feathers and sparkles. They’re pulling out a carved wooden horse, the kind that belongs on a carousel. There’s a woman in a pink gown sitting on the saddle. She jumps off and steps in beat to the music, dancing with a huge smile on her face.
Her pink skirt brushes the floor as she spins. She moves gracefully, taking elegant steps across the stage. The other girls join her. It’s more of a musical production at this point than a strip tease.
The woman in the center wears a sparkling pink corset with a sheer skirt that swishes at her ankles. Her headdress has tall plumes of pink and white feathers adorned with sparkling jewels. She has bracelets on her wrists and silver shoes with towering heels, but they’re not stripper shoes. She can walk and dance easily, even with the tall heel.
She suddenly turns away, and her sheer skirt drops on the offbeat. It flutters to the floor as she spins back toward us with a smile. Her wrists are above her head as she dances. Her hips shimmy in something resembling a belly dance then things speed up.
As she spins again, her corset comes off. Underneath, she wears pasties on her nipples and a bra that looks like jewelry with little bits of silver dangling between crystals. Combined with the pasties, it looks pretty. The women dancing next to her don’t remove anything. They’re dancing with the woman in pink, forming a kick line, then move her back to the carousel horse.
While one woman dances in front, the two in back help lift the main dancer up. She sits sidesaddle, leans backward then uses those long, shapely legs to make the horse rock. Her jewels shimmer in the bright light as she rocks, thrusting her front leg up with each downbeat of the music.
As the melody crescendos, she kicks once, twice, and a third time, then as they hold the final note, she holds her leg in the air. Golden fireworks sparkle in front of the horse and spray into the air, backlighting the dancers with a warm, glittering glow. They all end in unison, and the stage curtain drops with an abrupt swish, shielding them from the audience's view.
My jaw hits the table, and I turn to Jon. “Oh. My. God!”
Jon looks nervous. His brow is pinched, and he leans forward in the booth. His slouching arrogant attitude vanishes for the moment. “Is that a good ohmigod or a bad ohmigod? Last night I could tell, but right now—not so much.”
I blurt out a loud laugh and swat at his shoulder. “Jon!”
He grabs my hands and talks so fast I can’t get a word in edgewise. “There’s nothing on the island like this. It
was a risk, bringing her here and turning this place into a club. I wanted to turn it into something you’d be proud of, something different. I wanted to offer people a Vegas-style show right in their own backyard. Talk to me, Cass. Was it that bad? Was it—”
I lean in and kiss him to make him stop talking. The tension flows out of his shoulders, and he melts the moment our lips touch. When I pull back, I say, “I loved it. I didn’t know what to expect at first, but the combination of the music, chorus dancers, and the main dancer—Oh, Jon, it’s amazing!”
“Really?”
“Yes! Really! That was less than two minutes on stage, and I’m grinning like an idiot, dying to see more. I think you nailed it. A place like this will do fantastic here. So, you've kept the bar, added food and hired more waitresses?”
I glance around. There are way more employees here than usual. Jon nods and watches me, his beautiful face smiling. “Yeah, and during the final number, well—I think it’s better if I show you.”
He cues the band to start playing again. The curtains rise quickly, and the main dancer is now wearing a fluffy red dress and performing a different dance. It’s fast, flashy, and fun. By the end, she’s wearing a G-string, a crystal bra that somehow still covers her nipples, golden heels and outlandish red feathers above her head. Every inch of her moves powerfully, confidently.
I don’t notice the waitresses moving around, but they get close to the stage, grab a circular tray and spin. On stage, the main dancer spins high in the air, lifted by two of the girls, while the rest spin around, suddenly wearing less clothing. I can’t tell where the corsets went, but all the girls don short flouncy skirts barely covering their cheeks with shimmering black bras. They hold their trays in front and dance in unison. As the band reprises the song, golden sparks shoot from the sides of the trays and shower down from the ceiling.
