Stripped

by Zoey Castile

  Fallon

  Of course, Lily yanked it right out of my hands and passed it around to the girls for all of them to read. It made them all turn to their significant others and ask, “Why don’t I get letters like this?”

  I already knew it, but I know deep in my heart that I will never find someone like Fallon. Whatever is waiting for me inside this club, I have to face it.

  “I need to talk to him,” I say.

  The bouncer opens the door for me. “Suit yourself.”

  * * *

  The club has turned into an unofficial after hours, clusters of bachelorettes and partygoers still lingering at tables. The guys are in different stages of disarray and undress. I see Aiden surrounded by a party of older women who fawn over him. Vinny and Wonderboy are at the bar with Fallon. Each one of them has a girl perching on his knee like a bird on a tree branch and something sharp forms in my stomach.

  I think about how welcoming all these men were when I showed up here. How comfortable they tried to make me feel when I was on that stage. They embraced me. Why wouldn’t the people around me have welcomed Fallon in the same way? Why did they have to wait until he was gone?

  Rachel sees me first. I linger at the back of the bar, my dress too frilly and pastel for this dark club.

  “You want me to get him? He walked in here two hours ago half out of his mind.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I don’t really know what to do.”

  “You could, you know, talk. Like human adults.”

  “Really?” I chuckle. “Is that all?”

  The bar is still so full of customers that Fallon doesn’t even notice me. The girl on his lap is pretty. Her eyes are bright, and she glances at him shyly. Every time she leans into him, he leans away. But he never loses that smile, as if it’s plastered to his face, because once it’s gone, it’s going to be gone for a while.

  “What are you drinking, hon?” Rachel asks. “On the house.”

  “Whiskey.”

  “Girl after my own heart.”

  I rest my arms on the bar. “Do you go with everyone? When they go to Vegas?”

  “I’m not a Vegas girl. I’m too rooted here in New York. Even when it chews me up and spits me back out. Some people just belong in one place.”

  “I used to think I was the kind of girl who was rooted somewhere.” I take the glass of amber liquid and smell it, bring it to my lips, let the warm spirits coat my throat.

  “What kind of girl are you now?” Rachel asks.

  I don’t know. Even my mother says I’m too wound up. Too scared. Too—jealous.

  The girl on Fallon’s lap lunges her face at him. He holds her back by her shoulders to avoid her lips. She kisses the sleeve of his tuxedo shirt, leaving a red trail down the arm. Ricky taps him on the shoulder. The girl sitting on Fallon moves to an empty chair, while he follows Ricky through a door near the stage.

  “I’m not sure, but I think I’ll find out soon enough.” I shrug, an idea blooming in my mind. I set my drink down, and wait for another.

  FALLON

  “Darla,” Ricky says. He repeats her name over and over.

  “I’m sorry I let her go,” I say.

  Ricky grips the back of his office chair and nods. His eyes stare out the door as if suddenly she’ll manifest. Then he chuckles darkly. “I suppose that’s fair. You’ve seen what I do to those who cross me. I wouldn’t hurt her, Zacky. I loved her. Even if she never felt the same way.”

  “That’s a mind blow, brother,” I say. “Since when?”

  “Since always. But she’s too much like me. We were never ready to settle down. I always thought in the end, after Vegas—perhaps. I didn’t know the kind of trouble she was getting herself in.”

  “You should go look for her,” I say.

  Ricky turns to me. He’s still got glitter from one of the audience members who must’ve rubbed her face on his. “Are you going to take your own advice, or are you here after hours because the wedding went swimmingly?”

  “Can’t keep anything from you,” I say.

  Ricky changes his mood in seconds. He’s a chameleon, onstage and off.

  “What’s the word, Zacky?” he asks me.

  I tell him about the wedding. The ups and downs and punches.

  “Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I say.

  “You’ve always had a sort of life about you. Every girl in the room wants you and every guy in the room wants to be you. But you never see that, do you? You lack the right amount of self-esteem. You always have.”

  “I don’t lack self-esteem,” I tell him. “What are you, a head-shrinker now?”

  “I’ve known you for ten fucking years, brother. I’ve watched your every move. The way you interact with people. And I have never, not once, seen you doubt yourself the way you do when you’re with Robyn.”

  “I don’t belong with her, Ricky. I’m not good enough for her.”

  “Fuck that noise!” Ricky shouts. “Says who? You? The king of getting his heart broken by the prettiest girl who will bat her fake fucking eyelashes at you? No, Zacky. You’re wrong. You’re a better man than most of us because you’re the only one willing to risk it all for what you’re feeling. I’ve never been able to do that. Never could, never will. Go look for Darla? I’d probably die an old man clinging to the dregs of my glory days before I ever see her again. I’ve seen you grow up, brother. And I can tell you that you’re the best man I know.”

  I never knew Ricky thought of me this way. He’s not wrong. He’s not wrong one bit. And deep in my heart I know what I have to do.

  The only thing left for me to do.

  “Ricky—I quit.”

  ROBYN

  Ricky appears from the back of the bar. He’s the best dressed out of the lot of them, still in his tailored scarlet-and-black blazer, looking like the devil himself.

  “All right, everyone,” Ricky says. “I have an announcement. Everyone get a drink, on the house. For ten years I’ve known Zack Fallon. He’s been with me through thick and thin. Now, he’s ready to leave the nest and fly on his own. Where is he going? That’s between him and the Almighty. But as we head to Vegas, Fallon is going out on his own.

  “This is for every night you pulled through. Every show we danced together. Every moment on the road. Cheers, my brother. Godspeed.”

  Everyone at the bar raises their drinks to the ceiling, and then they drink. I drink, too.

  Fallon isn’t going to Vegas?

  How did we get from leaving together to coming undone? He’s only yards away but we’re a world apart. I slam my glass on the table, so loud people turn to look at me.

  When Fallon sees me, he stands. I can see his body react to me. The way his eyes track my body, the way he fidgets with his clothes. Why is he fighting this?

  “When did you get here?” he asks.

  “A while ago.” I look at the girl who was on his lap, now leaning against the bar.

  He walks across the room to get to me. Corners me. “You don’t belong in this world, Robyn. And I was selfish to try to bring you into it.”

  “But you’re leaving.”

  “That’s right. I have to figure myself out. I don’t—I don’t know what I want or what to do. I don’t know what comes next.”

  I look into his eyes and whisper, “I thought you loved me.”

  His mouth turns into a sad smile, but he won’t look at me. “It wasn’t love, Robyn. We were just—caught up. Trying to make pieces fit that didn’t.”

  “I chose you, Fallon. Why isn’t that enough?”

  “Go home, Robyn.”

  I turn and walk out the door. Rachel asked me what kind of girl I am. I guess we’ll just have to see.

  FALLON

  In the morning, I pack. I cancel my ticket to Vegas, and there is something freeing about the moment I hit “yes” when the website asks if I’m sure. It’s time that I go home. At least, that’s what Mary says. My younger brothe
r’s got a spare room for me until I figure out where I’m going to go next.

  Ricky tried once more to get me to stay. He’s going to give me another solo spot. But I don’t need another solo or my own poster or a raise. What I told Robyn wasn’t a lie. I do need to figure out what I want.

  You’re the only one willing to risk it all for what you’re feeling.

  That’s what Ricky said. He’s right. I even wrote a stupid, sappy love letter. It’s a good thing somewhere between the reception and the club, I lost it. I thought I was right. I thought it was love. Was it? I wanted Robyn. Every fiber in me wants her, still. But what do I give her? A man searching for himself? A man who isn’t sure of his future? I don’t know what I can offer her anymore. How can that be love?

  As I shove clothes into duffel bags, Yaz barks at me, refusing to sit still. I’ve walked her four times and it isn’t even noon yet. She sits at the door and whines, looking back at me with those sharp blue eyes.

  “You don’t want to leave?” I ask her, as if she could respond. I pick her up and carry her around like a newborn baby. “We have to, girl. I think you’ll like Boston. We have a big park. Better hot dogs.”

  I laugh. This is my new life. Talking to my dog.

  Ricky texts me.

  Ricky: You’re still going to do the last set tomorrow, right?

  Me: Yeah, why?

  Ricky: Gotta be sure. Need an official head count.

  Me: I gotchu.

  Staying away from Robyn is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. At random intervals I can smell her, hear her, see her. She’s a living ghost around me. It doesn’t help that her voice drifts from her upstairs every now and then.

  She’s giggling with someone. I wonder who is up there with her. It’s been a day since I watched her walk away, told her to walk away, and I’m too much of a coward to go and apologize. Talk to her. Fix things.

  So, I’m not going to Vegas. I’m going to Boston.

  Stop that, I tell myself. I unfold another box and shove my clothes in it. My costumes, all of it, I put in a separate box to give to Ricky.

  When I get to a red, white, and blue sequin thong, I hold it up for inspection. I don’t see any incident where I would wear this ever again. But I put it in the box I’m taking with me because I like the memory attached to her. It reminds me of her and the whole reason she came into my life. Every single moment around us brought us together. And every other moment tried to pull us apart.

  20

  Crawling Back to You

  FALLON

  It’s my last show. I’m backstage getting ready for my solo. I’m not doing the bedroom scene. I want to keep it simple. Just me and a girl plucked from the audience.

  The house is packed for the final night, even for a Saturday. We oversold tickets, and added chairs to tables to make room for everyone.

  “You ready, brother?” Ricky asks. He slaps my shoulder. I pat down my body. My shirt, my pants, a big-ass buckle she’ll take off.

  “I was born ready.”

  He winks at me, which is off because he never winks at me before a set. Ricky is nothing if not ruled by his regimen of performance superstitions. I suppose it has to do with the fact that I’m leaving.

  He struts onstage wearing his emerald-green blazer that looks like he’s the motherfucking Wizard of Oz. He gets the crowd hyped up to the point I’m pretty sure people across the river can hear us.

  “We’ve got a huge surprise for you, girls. As most of you know, tonight is our last night here in the Big Apple. You’ve been mighty good to us. Now, we’re headed to Veeeeeeegas! Make sure if you’re out there to come and see Mayhem City at The Royal.” Ricky does another sprint across the stage and the crowd cheers and hollers at him. “This next performer has been part of Mayhem City for ten years. Tonight, he’s dancing his last dance. So I’m going to need a very special girl to send him off right. Do I have any volunteers?”

  Aiden sidles up beside me. “I’ve never seen a crowd like this, man.”

  I slap his arm. “Wait until Vegas.”

  Ricky’s voice fills the room again. He leads a blond woman up the steps and sits her center stage. “Give it up for my boy, Fallon!”

  The lights go dark and I line up on my mark. The DJ cues up my song. It’s dark, and sensual, and everything that reminds me of Robyn. I know I shouldn’t be thinking of her on my last night, but it’s my last shot to remember. And I know I’ll give my best performance with her on my mind.

  I walk across the stage. The blond woman sits on a black chair that faces the audience. Her tanned legs are thick and muscular. My heart thunders in my chest at the sight of them, a memory of Robyn straddling me on the Wonder Wheel. I stand in front of the woman and swerve my lower body toward her.

  A smile creeps up on her lips, obscured by the shadows of the stage. Fueled by the screams from the crowd, I rip my shirt into shreds and throw them toward the audience. I throw my body at her feet and thrust my pelvis against the stage, slowly, hard.

  I get back up on my knees, grab her thighs, and part them open. She holds on to the chair. I can’t read her like usual. Most women are shy in this moment. They need to be coaxed into it. But maybe she’s been here before and knows the routine. Because she seems to be expecting my moves.

  “Hold up, hold up,” Ricky says, stepping back onstage.

  Confusion riddles my thoughts. I stand back up, Ricky getting between the blonde and me. I look to the stage, slightly out of breath, and smile.

  “I said before this is Fallon’s last night here! Why does he have to do all the work?” He waits for the hollers and screams from the crowd, who encourage him. Then, Rick Rocket turns to me and says, “So, all the boys got together and figured out a way to wish you bon voyage on your next adventure. Get it, girl.”

  That’s when the blonde stands. Aiden appears behind me and slams me down onto a chair, strapping my arms behind my back with silk ties.

  The track slows, scratches, then changes. A familiar song, a song I’ve danced to before.

  ROBYN

  The lights are hot and bright against my skin. The last time I was on this stage, I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. I let Fallon lead the way, and now he kicks off the set with me. Only he doesn’t know it’s me.

  It’s the same song he danced for me and I wonder if he chose it on purpose. His body is a ripple of muscle and skin and I love watching every second of it.

  But it’s my turn.

  Rick walks back up onstage and stops the set. Fallon is a deer in headlights, looks from Ricky to me to the audience. For a moment, I can’t even hear what Rick is saying. My heart thunders, adrenaline surging through my body as I find my mark, and Aiden appears from behind stage and ties Fallon to the chair.

  I’m not going to try to replicate his moves, because Fallon can pop and lock his body in ways that I can’t. But I spent all day yesterday with Ricky to get the movements right. Fallon’s smile is undeniable as the light hits me center stage, and the song changes, blasting Warrant’s “Cherry Pie.”

  I dig under the seam of my blond wig and pull it off. I can almost hear Fallon gasp as I turn and shake my hair into his face. I wind my lower body, and he watches me like I’m a cobra rising to meet his eyes. He’s struggling against his restraints. I take off my sunglasses, like the guys did the time they performed at Lily’s bachelorette party. I can almost hear her and Anise screaming from the audience.

  I throw the sunglasses to the side and sit astride him, my back against his chest. I grab my tank top. Ricky made a little cut at the collar, and I rip it down the middle. My bikini top is covered in sequins, red, white, and blue.

  I stand, and slam back down onto his lap, lining up our best parts together. I grind against him, then bend forward and flip my hair from side to side, letting my body glide against his naked torso.

  I drop down, get on my knees, and spread his legs open the same way he did to me. I turn to the audience at the same time as I rake my nails up and dow
n his thighs.

  I get up to my feet and spin. As their voices crescendo, I land across his lap. Then the lights go dark.

  “Robyn,” Fallon calls out after me, but I’m already racing behind stage.

  FALLON

  The crowd goes wild. In the dark, I can feel someone untie my hands. Robyn isn’t anywhere backstage.

  “Where is she?” I ask.

  They all point out the back door that leads to the main area. I don’t care that I’m shirtless and in a pair of pants I never got to take off. I don’t care that my heart is racing a thousand miles per hour. I don’t care that Ricky tricked me right onstage. All I want is to get to Robyn.

  I run out the side door that leads toward the bar area. She’s there, surrounded by Lily, Anise, and a couple of the bridesmaids I remember. They all high-five her. Rachel pours a round of drinks. She’s got the best eye in the whole club because she looks up at the exact same time that I march toward the bar.

  Rachel smirks, and when Robyn notices it she spins around. She’s still in her bikini top. Her body is slick with whatever shimmer the makeup artists put on her. How didn’t I recognize the second she was onstage? The wig, the glasses, the way the lights were adjusted to keep her face hidden.

  I pick her up by her waist. I revel in the scent of her, the feel of her skin, lower her against me until our mouths are lined up. An overwhelming sense of relief crashes over me as she kisses me harder than she ever has.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she says. “I got your letter.”

  “I love you, Robyn.”

  “I know.” She digs her fingers in my hair and I pull on those long dark strands she teased against my face.

  The spotlight turns on us. Ricky is standing on the side of the stage closest to the bar. The boys are lined up ready to do their next set, but he takes the time to put us on blast.