I blow out a puff of air. I need to figure out how to get out of here. I should probably just go back and get my purse. The truth is, I don’t want to walk back into that country club with my makeup smeared all over my face and take the chance of running into Blake. I at least want him to remember me as I was before I became a pathetic woman running from him. I wish there was another way out of this mess I put myself into.
I’m no Prince Charming, but I couldn’t help laughing at the similarities between our positions as I watched my Cinderella go running off out of the club, having left her purse at the table. I called out once to try and stop her, but something had spooked her. Even if she had heard me over all the noise, there was no getting her back. I sat at her table alone, replaying our conversation in my mind and trying to figure out what had driven her from my arms in such a dramatic way.
“What was that about?” Hearing Sammy’s voice, I looked up to find him standing at the table drying his hands. His face made it clear just how amused he was to see me strike out so hard.
“I don’t know. Must have been your drink. Told her another one was coming and she ran like her life depended on it.”
The big man’s face soured at my joke. “Very funny,” he said, sitting in her seat. “Seriously though, I think that is the first time I’ve seen you crash and burn like that.”
“You don’t have to tell me!” I exclaimed, unable to keep the edge of frustration out of my voice.
“You’re upset. That’s new, too. What’s going on?” he asked.
Sammy was correct; I was upset, but it wasn’t immediately clear to me why. This wasn’t the first time I’d been interested in a woman and had it not work out. Although it didn’t usually happen, when it did, I just accepted the loss and moved on. Why would I waste my time worrying about one woman who turned me down when there were so many others who would happily leave the club on my arm? Sometimes, it was that very relaxed attitude that drew women to me. I couldn’t even venture a guess as to how many women had politely refused me, only to have a change of heart when I didn’t pursue them. These were beautiful women. They were accustomed to being chased. Encountering a man who was not bothered by their rejection was hard for them to process. They’d wait for me to come back or try again, but I wouldn’t. It would be their eyes seeking me out as I sat in my booth with my drink, never giving them a second glance. More often than not, they would find some pretense to approach my booth, and once they came to me, it was over.
I’d broken my rules with Rochelle tonight. I hadn’t walked away at her resistance; I hadn’t played the patient game. Now, she was gone, and I wasn’t moving on. There was nothing cool about how I was feeling, and my favorite bartender and most frequent audience member to my act had noticed.
“There was something about that girl,” I told Sammy. “I don’t know what it was, but she got to me...”
“She was pretty,” Sammy acknowledged, “but you already go for the tens. It’s not like she’s in a new league.”
I shook my head. “It’s not her looks, there was something different about her.”
“Well, she left her purse here. Looks like you might get another shot after all.”
“I don’t think so,” I replied. “She won’t come back for it knowing I may still be here. She was too spooked. I don’t know why, but whatever it was, I’m betting she’ll wait until she thinks I’m gone.”
Without explaining myself, I picked up the purse and walked over to the bar. Sammy followed, clearly wondering what I was up to. Grabbing a pen from a jar and a scrap piece of paper from beside the register, I started writing a note. I wasn’t chasing her out of the bar tonight, but I wasn’t giving up. No one had ever made an impression like she had, and I had no desire to just move on. I folded the note when I was done and slipped it into her purse before handing it back to Sammy.
“You know I want to read that, right?” he said with a mischievous smile.
“I know you won’t,” I responded with a smile of my own.
He took the purse back behind the counter and tucked it under the bar. Sammy had a code, and I knew it would be safe there from prying eyes, including his own.
I couldn’t find a reason to stay any longer and bid Sammy farewell for the evening. After paying my tab, I walked out to my car and decided to take the long way home. Driving was one of my favorite ways to relax, and as I pulled out onto the main road and opened up the engine, I felt my uncertainty wash away. Distance and a nice drive were just what I needed. By the time I arrived back at my building, I was sure that whatever impact Rochelle had on me was over. Life would be back to normal in the morning. If she called - great. If not, I’d be back to my old self again the next night. Back in my booth, and back in control.
I didn’t like feeling like I’d lost control… but at the same time, I had enjoyed it. I’d felt hooked and it was different. I’d be fine either way, but if I could subject myself to Rochelle’s mystery and magnetic pull again, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I hoped she would call.
I ran all the way back to the country club and now I am out of breath. Plus I am soaked. The rain that suddenly fell from the dark sky came out of nowhere, rattling me to the bones. I feel like such a stupid girl tonight. Why did I think I could escape my troubled life, even for just one night? I see the mistake I made. The warnings were surrounding me. The cracks of thunder, the flashing of lightning, and the rain trying to wash my sins away. I have sinned by going someplace, trying to be somebody I am not. I need to walk into the country club and get my purse so that I can go back to being who I am supposed to be.
My wet hair is hanging limply on my cheek, so I brush it away with my fingers that are also wet. I slip through the front entrance of the country club and head straight for the restrooms. I check the stalls to see whether I am alone or not. When I see that I am alone, I lock the door. I open the cabinets, looking for anything that might make my appearance better. When I had seen my reflection in the mirror... I look like a drowned rat. Not only was my hair dripping wet and my makeup smeared all over my cheeks, but my poor dress is ruined. The dress that I was going to return tomorrow. I lift my arm and pull the price tag that I kept tucked inside. Most of the tag is gone. I guess I am the proud owner of this ruined cocktail dress. Now my rent is going to be really late.
I return my gaze to the mirror. Lifting a hand, I trace the outline of my body with my finger. I then put my palm flat on the mirror, covering the reflection of my face, disgusted with myself. I get chills when I scrape my fingernails downward. I wish I could claw my way out of this person’s body. I wish the rain could clean my soul and make me reborn. I so desperately want to be anybody but me.
I stand up straight and wipe my eyes. I need to get the hell out of here. I can’t take much more self-loathing tonight. I need to go home and strip this night off of me. Tomorrow I can go back to being me… to being someone’s toy. The ultimate fantasy. I get a handful of paper towels and wet them. I wipe the makeup off the best I can, then toss them in the trash when I am done. I take a deep breath and hold my head up high as I unlock the restroom door and start to walk toward the lounge.
“The one that got away.”
The voice startles me. I peek over my shoulder to see who it is. I don’t see anyone. I know it isn’t Blake because I can’t smell his cologne. Plus I wouldn’t forget his tender, sexy voice so easily.
“Excuse me?” I eventually say.
“Nothing, don’t mind me.”
When I turn to see who it is, I’m a little taken back. “Sammy?”
“I have your purse behind the bar.”
“Oh, good. I left in such a rush I forgot it.”
Sammy’s eyes travel the length of my body. “Wait here, I’ll go and get it for you.”
Why do I get the feeling he just judged me? He hadn’t said a word, but his expression made it clear that he doesn’t think I belong in his place of employment. That irritated me a bit. Guys like him are just like girls like me, we are b
oth trying to fit into a place we don’t belong. Sammy didn’t get here by having rich parents who got him a summer job. No, he’s from the streets, just as I am. I could smell that a mile away. Good for him for trying to better himself, but shame on him for passing judgment on me for wanting the same thing. There is a difference between us, though. He wants this life and thinks he belongs with the rich. I only wanted one night. One night of not being someone’s sex toy. I know I don’t fit in with the lifestyles of the rich and famous. I am not that naive.
“Here you are.”
I am kind to him even though I want to call him out on his bullshit. “Thanks.”
“My shift is done, how about I give you a ride home?”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know I don’t.”
“Fine.”
We go out to Sammy’s car. The pay must be nice at the country club for him to afford this sports car he drives. I give him my address. Well, technically, it isn’t my address. It’s the coffee shop around the corner from my place. I don’t give my address to anyone. I learned early on that you don’t let people know where you live. That’s just asking for trouble, trouble that I don’t need or want. When you are in my line of work, you can’t be too careful. People are crazy.
Sammy pulls up in front of the coffee shop.
“Thanks for the ride,’ I say.
“I know who you are. Guys like Blake, they don’t go for girls like you. ”
“What do you mean?”
“I know where you work. I worked there once. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Duly noted.” I jumped out of his car. I have heard enough. I don’t need a wannabe rich boy telling me I don’t belong in Blake’s world. I already know that. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out.
I ducked into the coffee shop and waited for Sammy to drive away before I walked back out and ran to my apartment. I am so angry at myself right now for crying over some judgmental asshole’s opinion of me. He doesn’t get to place judgment on me. Nobody can. Nobody but me gets to decide what kind of person I am. Especially someone like Sammy.
I reach my door, but before I can even get my key into the keyhole, my night gets worse. There is a yellow eviction notice plastered to the door. I wanted to rip it off, but I kicked the door instead, out of frustration. Once I get inside, I throw my purse on my fold-out bed, this is the last thing I need. I go right to the bathroom area and strip off my ruined dress. I turn the stand-up shower on and get in. The water mixes with my tears as it barely trickles out of the showerhead. I slide to the floor and hug my legs. I don’t know how I am going to pay my rent. I don’t know how I am going to survive. I really can’t do this anymore. I am thirty years old and I am drowning in debt. I almost... almost want to tuck my tail between my legs and go home. However, I know my father would never take me back. Besides, I ran away for a reason. I am just going to have to work more hours. I’ll have to put on sexy clothes and become whoever the men want me to be. The bruises on my wrists can't be much worse than they already are. My ass does need to recover from the whips, crops, or bare hands, but I can take it. I have no choice if I want a place to live and food in my belly.
“No more being stupid, Rochelle. No more cocktail dresses or fancy hair combs. It’s peanut butter sandwiches until your rent is paid up to date.” I stop talking to myself and turn the water off. Getting out, I wrap a towel around my body, then walk over to my only window and peek outside. The storm is still raging like a bad omen. “I got it. You can stop now!” I say to the storm, just as a bolt of lightning cuts through the sky, sending me running to my bed. I pull the blankets over my head and say a silent prayer that tomorrow is a new day.
The first rays of light warmed my face as I cracked my eyes open to see that the previous night’s storm had given way to a gorgeous day. It was unusual for me to wake so late in the morning, but I’d found it difficult to sleep the night before. Even after my drive, thoughts of the blonde mystery woman at the table haunted me. Had I let her go too easily? Should I have gone all in for a woman who made me feel that way? I told myself, once again, that second-guessing wasn’t helpful, but the questions crept back into my thoughts. They would not be banished.
Pressing a button on the remote next to my bed, I squinted a moment when the blinds drew back automatically letting light pour in. The entire wall of windows across from me let light pour into the room. It had been a few years since I moved in, but I never got over the view from my bedroom. The outwardly curved wall offered a spectacular panorama of the entire strip. I kept the blinds open during the day, enjoying the natural light that filled the room. At night, however, I kept all but one window’s blinds closed in order to keep the city lights from bothering my sleep. When I wanted to take in the splendor of Sin City, this view offered a view like no other. The lights were washed out by the sun at the moment, but the city was still quite spectacular.
Rochelle still occupied a place in my mind as I climbed into my steaming shower. I wondered if she’d gone back for her purse and if there was any chance at all that I would see her there tonight. Having already broken my rule with her, I knew that I would chase her just a little bit more if the opportunity presented itself, but I doubted that she’d be back. The way she ran out of there, it wouldn’t have shocked me to find out that she’d never bothered going back for her purse. If that was the case, I might just have to get her address from her ID– a missed opportunity from the night before that’d struck me just as my head hit the pillow – and try returning it on my own.
Despite my best efforts to let the shower wash away my unusually obsessive thoughts, I was still almost singularly focused on her as I finished dressing for the day and headed out the door. It wasn’t a business day for my company, but unlike my employees, my schedule was always open. I had to meet someone for a new project just off the strip where a club had burnt down the year before. Some said I was crazy for looking to open a new club in this economy, but my gut told me that it would do well, and it hadn’t steered me wrong yet. I could afford the risk, and the potential reward if tourism picked back up was solid. The rights for the new place were secured now, and I was looking to find a hook for the club that would make it a little different. I had no interest in another strip club, and bars were a dime a dozen in that part of town. To be successful, this one needed to stand out.
Punching the throttle as I turned out onto the street, I relished the sound of the engine and the slip of the back tires as they spun faster than they could grip the pavement. Having grown up in a very modest home, I made sure to enjoy the finer things that my lifestyle allowed. I zipped around the city to avoid most of the traffic and pulled up to find my potential business partner waiting for me in front of the construction site. We’d not yet met in person, and I was surprised at his appearance. He was adamant that his clubs were not brothels or strip joints, but knowing that they were in the same genre, I’d mistakenly assumed he would be a decent looking guy. I suppose it made sense that a loser would venture into that kind of business to satisfy an unmet need in his life, and that is exactly the kind of guy Randy looked like.
The most apt description that came to mind was an ‘egg on legs,’ and a short one at that. He was balding, had one long eyebrow, and a slouching posture that did nothing to help him out. When he saw my car, he gave me a weaselly smile that nearly made me pull away without giving him another moment of my time, but this was business. Business partners could be weasels – so long as they were leashed by a strong contract.
“Blake!” the weasel shouted in a loud, boisterous voice as I stepped onto the curb. “So good to finally meet you! This is the perfect location!”
I laughed at his poor negotiating skills. We hadn’t talked terms yet, and he was already showing his hand.
“I agree. I think you could be substantially more profitable here. You’re, what – six blocks further off the strip right now? You probably only get 20-30% out of town traffic. Here, you could easily do
uble that.”
“We do better than you’d think,” he said, dimming his smile slightly as he sensed my approach being more deliberate than his.
“Well, that’s great,” I replied. “Whatever you do today, I’d still expect to double it here. That is why I was so quick to grab this lot when it came available. So, what do you have in mind?” I asked.
“John said you were only interested in a partnership,” he replied, making it clear that he wasn’t thrilled by that approach. “I’d prefer to retain full control, but I understand the upside for you as an investor.”
I held a very neutral expression, looking at the building rather than him to unsettle him as much as I could. “John was absolutely correct. I want a 50/50 partnership to move forward with a relocation. I was originally thinking that I’d be opening my own place and my investment is not one of just real estate. I believe John sent you my proposal.”
“He did, but I was really hoping there would be room to discuss that arrangement before we worried about the numbers.”
“There is not,” I replied flatly, looking the man in the eye as I did. Due to our height difference, I could not avoid looking down at him, but it suited the tone of the conversation.
Randy was speechless for a moment, something I suspected was uncommon for him. After a second, he finally spoke up and said, “I guess it’s time to talk numbers, then.”
“Randy,” I said, now turning my entire body towards him. “I am not looking for much of a negotiation here. I really wanted to meet with you to find out more about what you think our partnership would offer me. The numbers we sent over were contingent on my interest which is not yet decided.”
“Oh…” Randy said, looking back and forth between the building and me. “I didn’t understand that. Okay… well, we offer a very unique experience for those with a particular sin in mind. No strippers or nudity out front, but we do offer an attached, separate location where clothing becomes optional. We don’t serve alcohol in the secondary location which allows us more flexibility with the city. There is zero sex allowed and everything in the secondary location is under surveillance to prevent any potential issues.”
Inside the Storm Page 2
