“So, about this young man…” she says in a sing-song tone as soon as we reach a commercial break.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t let it go that easily,” I groan, never looking away from the TV.
“When are you going to bring him around for supper?”
My head whirls around in her direction. “I’m not. Not ever. Absolutely not.”
Her face falls. “Because you don’t want him to see me like this?”
“Of course not!” I reply, stunned. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’d take you to meet the Queen of England if I could. What I meant was that there’s no point in inviting him to dinner when he would never come.” I feel a bit sad as I say this. “There wouldn’t be a reason for him to. It would be extremely irregular for me to do something like that.”
“You don’t get along with him?”
“He’s totally impossible. I already told you that.”
Her smile is wise, knowing, gentle. “Ah, a bit of a prick, is he?”
“Mom,” I gasp.
“Even bad boys can be warmed up. Never say never.”
I shake my head. How do I explain it to her in a way that she’ll understand? I can’t keep dancing around the truth of the subject with her. “The thing is, Mom. He’s sort of my competition. Even though we’re on the same team for now, that won’t always be the case. Eventually, if we keep doing as well as we’re doing, we’ll have to compete against each other.”
“Oh. I see. You can’t get too close to the competition.”
“Exactly. It wouldn’t work.”
“Because you’ll eventually have to turn on each other, and you don’t want your feelings for him to get in the way.”
“Yes.” I smile bravely. While I was riding on the back of his bike, I forgot that small fact. “See. I knew you’d understand.” As long as she doesn’t ask too many questions about specifics. I can’t imagine what she must think I’m doing.
“Sure. I understand.” Her smile widens innocent and full of joy. “But you know something? It works both ways.”
“What does?”
“Becoming so close to somebody that you don’t want to do what you know needs to be done to beat them. You’re not the only person on your little team of two who could fall victim to that phenomena.”
My eyes open wide. “Mom. Do you know what you’re implying?”
“Oh, sweetness. I’m not implying. I’m saying it straight out. You wanna win? You might have to allow him to catch feelings for you. Who knows? It could work in your favor.” She drops a broad wink. “Besides, if he’s half as handsome as you say he is, it might not be all bad. You might even enjoy it.”
“I cannot, and I mean cannot, believe we’re having this conversation!” I bend forward, burying my head in my hands.
“Oh, come on, Dakota. I taught you about the birds and the bees.”
“Yes, I know,” I say with a wry smile. “I remember it vividly to this day.”
“Come, come. We’re both adults.”
“Sorry, but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable.”
“I’m not asking you prostitute yourself for the sake of winning. Just, you know, let him see you for the beautiful girl you are. Be a little extra…well…friendly. Win him over.”
“I have never been more embarrassed in my life, and that’s saying something.” Especially, considering what I just did this morning. “I feel like this conversation needs to come to an end before you say anything that will scar me for life.”
She laughs. “All right. All right. Kids nowadays are too PC.” She shrugs before turning up the volume on the TV. “I’ll keep all my wisdom to myself then, and you won’t be able to benefit from it.”
“That works for me. I’ll fix you some lunch,” I say, standing up.
Anything to get out of that room. I know she’s only half-serious. She’s my mom, and it’s her job to tease me, make me uncomfortable, then laugh at the way I blush and stammer. Actually, I’m glad we had something to talk about other than how sick she feels and how worried she is about paying for treatment. I’m glad she’s in such a good mood.
Mom thinks I should let him develop feelings for me, so he won’t be able to compete against me when the time comes. That’s all well and good—but she doesn’t know him, and she doesn’t know the way we are together. He’ll never like me. We’re always at each other’s throats, always getting under each other’s skin.
Skin.
My heart picks up speed when I remember his skin, the way it felt under my hands when I slid them around his waist and clasped them over his steely abs. I fought off the burning urge to run my lips over his broad back. I just blamed it on biology. On the deep, pulsing throb between my legs. That was the engine’s fault. It would have happened no matter who was driving that motorcycle. There’s nothing I could have done about that. If I had taken the bus home like I’d expected to, there wouldn’t have been a problem. I wouldn’t have lost my head and wouldn’t be thinking these thoughts.
No. He’ll never come so close to making a fool of himself over me as I did over him. He’s too arrogant, too good-looking, too confident, and way too focused. It’s that focus I have to worry about, not his smile, his sexy eyes, or the way his butt looked in my underwear.
He won’t stop at anything to win this game. I saw it in his eyes when the text arrived that we would have to steal. He was willing to do it. If he hadn’t come up with an alternative, he would have stolen the clothes without hesitation.
I wonder why he needs the money so bad. There has to be a reason, though I can’t imagine what it would be. I suppose we all have our reasons, don’t we?
Still, it was fun to work with him this morning. He’s a good teammate. And even when we were making fun of each other and slinging barbs back and forth, I had a good time. He’s exciting, interesting, and smart as hell. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed the company of a guy. Maybe never. Even when he is being an insufferable jackass, and he does that a lot, I want to be with him. The thing is…I can be myself around him. I haven’t tried to flirt with him or make him like me, and I won’t. I’ll win this game fair and square.
I smile to myself as I spread tuna salad on a slice of wheat bread for Mom’s lunch. He should have looked ridiculous in my boy shorts, but he looked devastatingly hot. I never thought I’d ever meet a man like him, one who can look good even when he is making a ridiculous fool of himself.
I’m frowning again, as I slap another slice of bread on top and cut the sandwich in half. He is so out of my league. Still, he did say I looked hot too, didn’t he? I almost wish I didn’t like that so much. That it didn’t make me feel so warm and gooey inside.
I hear Mom start coughing out in the living room—the sort of cough that starts out as a laugh but goes out of control. And that’s enough to snap me out of my little daydreams, the memories of the fun with Trent. He’s not important. His body isn’t important, his motorcycle isn’t important. The way he feels about me isn’t important, either. Whether he really thinks I’m hot, or if he thinks I’m a heinous bitch. None of it matters more than my mother. She’s my priority. She’s the reason I have to win. I don’t care what his reasons are.
My fingers tighten around the bread knife until it hurts. “You alright in there?” I call out when the coughing eases, trying to keep my voice as light as possible so she doesn’t tell me not to worry so much.
“Sure, I’m alright. You know how it is.” She sounds weaker than she did earlier. Worn out.
Yes. I know exactly how it is.
Chapter 12
TRENT
Caveman & Bone?” Dakota asks looking up from her text message, a scowl on her face. “That’s a strip joint, isn’t it?” We are both standing on the street two doors away from the club when they sent us our messages.
I scratch my jaw. “Yeah, I think so,” I say cautiously.
“They want me to do a strip tease, don’t they?” she gasps, horrified.
; “Well, we don’t know that,” I suggest diplomatically, even though it’s pretty certain that she is right. That’s exactly what they want her to do.
“It’s obvious… it is. Why else would they want us to go there?” she wails.
I try to keep my face neutral even though, to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing her strip. From the moment I saw her run for the elevator, I became sexually curious about her. “Let’s go in and see.”
“Trent, I’m not getting naked in front of a bunch of men. I’m just not doing it.” Her voice is high and squeaky.
“Okay look, my friend Eric goes to Caveman & Bone all the time. It’s more of a topless show. You can keep your panties on.”
“What? I have to be topless?” she shoots back.
I swallow down a sigh. “A few moments ago, you thought you would have to be naked. Isn’t being topless better than stripping all the way down?”
“Oh my God, I don’t believe this! I’ll have to be topless in public?”
“I stripped down to my underpants yesterday,” I remind her.
“You don’t have breasts, you unfeeling brute,” she rages.
“Well, at least you have great breasts.”
Her eyes look like they are about to pop out of her head. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Trent.”
Holy Hell! “That’s too hard? Here’s another alternative, Tinkerbell. Why not just go back to Neverland and let someone else win the million?”
That stops her in her tracks. She licks her lips and squares her shoulders. “All right, let’s go in and see what they want us to do.”
“Good thinking.”
We don’t exchange another word while we walk into the establishment. Her body is stiff and there is at least two feet between us.
As if they are expecting us, the two bouncers at the entrance lift the red ropes as soon as we appear, and let us through.
There are two women sitting at the reception area who also seem to be expecting us. One of them gets up and asks if she can take our coats.
I hand mine over, but Dakota holds hers even tighter.
We follow the woman into the club.
The plum carpets are plush and the décor is rich and lavish. There’s a stage lit up with blue lights and a long catwalk attached to it. I sneak a glance at Dakota. Her hands are thrust deep into her short coat and she is staring at the stage with terrified eyes. At the other end of the room, there is a long bar and lots of scantily clad girls are sitting around waiting for the unwary.
The woman leads us to a table by the stage.
As soon as we sit, a waitress dressed in a playboy bunny suit minus the tail and ears brings us a bucket of ice with a champagne bottle in it. “With compliments of the house,” she says setting our glasses down on the table.
Dakota stares at the bottle as if it is a rattlesnake.
The stage lights come on and the DJ asks everyone to welcome, the next performer. A Miss Susie Wong. Men in the darkened corners of the club clap. An Oriental girl in a long green Chinese dress comes on and starts gyrating to the music.
Dakota stares at the performer with mesmerized eyes.
With a practiced ease, the girl slips out of her dress. She has fake boobs, but a nice body. Tight, young, and well proportioned, but for some reason, she leaves me completely cold.I don’t like the idea of paying to watch a girl undress. I have better ways to spend my money.
With admirable athletic prowess, she vaults herself up a lapdancer’s pole and swings herself around it before losing her bra. At that point, men start throwing money at her. She gets down on her hands and knees then starts crawling to the end of the catwalk. Men come up to the edge of it to slip folded notes into her stockings and G-string. Finally, she gets to the end of the catwalk where she lies on her back and opens her legs, making a large V.
Next to me, Dakota gasps.
I watch the men shower the girl with notes. This is obviously the highlight of the show.
Dakota turns to me, her face white and desperate. “I can’t do it. That’s humiliating.”
“You don’t know what they want you to do. It might be something completely different. Why don’t you have a drink and loosen up a little, huh?”
She grabs her glass and drains it.
I refill her glass silently. If she has to dance, then getting her a little drunk is a good idea.
She finishes the glass just as soon as I refill it. I pour her another, and she empties that too.
My eyes widen. Getting her falling down drunk is not going to help anybody. “Easy now,” I caution.
“Easy for you to say,” she snaps bitterly.
At that moment, my phone buzzes. We look at each other in surprise. Only my phone! I look at my screen.
Good Evening Dare Me Contestant!
Time for your next Dare Me stunt.
Eat everything that is in the bowl.
The value of this dare is $100,000
Chapter 13
TRENT
What? I look up confused and another tailless, earless bunny is carrying a tray with a bowl on it. She puts it in front of me.
Oh. Fuck. No.
Even Dakota jerks back in disgust.
I stare at the contents of the bowl in disbelief. I know exactly what’s in the bowl. It hits me then. The organizers of Dare Me have trawled my social media account. Years ago, a friend sent me a video of a South Vietnam delicacy. ‘How to prepare and eat live coconut worms.’
I can’t take my eyes off the fat worms squirming in a concoction of chilies, lime juice, and some other Asian sauces. I remember clearly leaving a comment on the video. ‘I’d rather die than eat that.’ Now they are going to use it against me. My stomach begins to churn.
“Jesus, do they want you to eat that?” Dakota asks.
I nod slowly.
“You should eat them quick. This is cruel. Those poor things must be burning up in that chili soup.”
Un-fucking-believable. Of course, she would care more for the wellbeing of the damn worms than mine. I look up at her and snarl, “Fine, I’ll eat them, but make sure you do your stunt just as quickly when it’s your turn.”
She shrinks back.
I stare at her. “Do we have a deal?”
She bites her bottom lip.
“Do we have a deal?” I repeat.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I pick up the chopsticks lying at the side of the bowl and take a deep breath. Nothing is more important than winning this game. Nothing is more important than my dream. Nothing. I catch one of the wriggling worm between my chopsticks.
Without looking at it again, I bring it into my mouth and crunch it quickly between my teeth. I don’t allow myself to feel sick. Without acknowledging the milky taste bursting onto my tongue, I swallow the still wriggling mass. I feel it go down my throat and travel into my esophagus. There is a lingering taste of chili and fish sauce in my mouth. My toes curl in my shoes.
I just ate a worm that was still alive.
I look into the bowl. There are five more. I do the same until my bowl is empty of them. I look at up Dakota.
She is staring at me with wide eyes. “I’d rather take my clothes off than do that,” she whispers. Her phone buzzes. She looks at it, then up to me. Her face is pale. She looks nothing like that girl I met in the carpark.
“What is your stunt?”
“I have to dance until I have collected two hundred dollars from the men here. Wish me luck.” She takes off her coat. She is wearing a denim dress with thick tights.
Inexplicably and suddenly, I don’t want her to be up there. Dancing and having all these perverts staring at her. I don’t want to see her breasts. I mean, I do of course, but not like this. She is too good for this.
A woman comes up to her. “I can escort you to the back where you can change into your costume.”
Dakota nods. Her shoulders are no longer straight. They are slumped and defeated. She stands up and follows the woman.
/> I don’t even have to think. I open my wallet. There’s less than a hundred in cash. I can run out and look for cash, but I might disqualify myself. I put my wallet back into my pocket, and think fast. I pull out my phone and call Eric. He lives around the corner from here.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Just about to go out to dinner, man. Where are you?”
“Can you get to the Caveman?”
“Sure. Are you at the Caveman?” he asks incredulously.
“Yeah, can you bring two hundred dollars with you?”
“What’s going on?” he asks confused.
“I’ll tell you everything later. Just get here as soon as you can.”
“Okay.”
“How long will you be?” I ask in a panicked voice.
“I don’t know. Twenty minutes.”
“Okay. Hurry up.” I slip my phone back into my pocket and look at my watch. Come on, Eric. Get here fast. I tap my fingers on the table surface impatiently.
Ten minutes later, things start happening on the stage. The DJ takes his place. The curtain twitches. Shit, she’s coming on. The bright stage lights come on and the DJ announces her name.
Fuck.
I call Eric again. “Where the fuck are you?”
“I’m just around the corner, dude. I’m getting the money out of the hole in the wall.”
“Hurry up, please.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
“Make it four,” I growl.
The music starts and Dakota appears in the spotlight. She is wearing a red top that seems to be made of mesh with a tie between her breasts, a pair of white go-go shorts, and knee length black boots. The men start catcalling and whistling. Her face looks pale and nervous under all the makeup they have slapped on her. Her enormous eyes desperately look for me in the dark.
Single Dad Page 35
