Until Joe

by Smith, CP

  He hit Play again and waited for what he knew he would see: his angel with the Southern drawl being led out of a police station. She was accompanied by another woman, who bore a likeness to her, and the same man who’d drawn her into a hug when he’d seen her last. He had his arms around both women as he walked them through the hordes of journalists.

  Joe’s hand tightened on his glass when an overzealous reporter jumped in front of them, pushing his microphone into her face. He hit Pause on the video and stared at her expression. He’d seen the shock on her face at the intrusion of her space, and a bit of fear, but the image in front of him now was pure steel. She’d straightened her shoulders within moments of the encounter, and her eyes had shot with fire. His angel had courage and backbone.

  “Good for you,” he mumbled into the night air.

  The sound of gravel crunching under the weight of a vehicle directed Joe’s attention to his driveway. A huge black SUV came to a stop, and he smiled. Asher made November drive a tank, so all his ducks were safe.

  November climbed out of the vehicle, dropping to the ground with a thud. She was short enough Joe imagined she needed a ladder to climb inside the black beast. When she didn’t unload one of his great-nieces, he knew it wasn’t a social visit. November had been circling him for months. Since they’d returned from Tybee Island, if truth be told. She could sense his mood. The restlessness that came every time he thought about the woman on Tybee.

  What Joe had felt when he’d looked deeply into the woman’s eyes should have dissipated months ago, but it hadn’t. The brief encounter had left him unbalanced; on edge. Like something or someone was missing from his life. And he hadn’t been able to stop the dreams that surfaced from time to time. The ones where she was single and his, wrapped up tightly in his arms as they watched the sun setting over the ocean. Or the more vivid ones where sweat clung to her skin as he drove deep into her silken heat, her moans of pleasure haunting him, even during the waking hours. That pissed him off even more because he’d never coveted another man’s woman.

  Why he hadn’t been able to shake this woman from his headspace was beyond him. She felt like a forbidden fruit. Like something you wanted so badly, you could almost taste it. But she also felt like she belonged to him, not the other man. Which made no sense.

  No woman had ever struck a nerve the way this one had, and it had left him searching for something he wouldn’t find in Murfreesboro. He was stuck in limbo and had been for a while, which was why he was set to retire in a month. He planned to climb on the back of his bike and hit the road for a while, so he could sort himself out and move past whatever was haunting him.

  He and Mike had trained Brandon for years, and he was ready to take the reins. It was time to step down. The time had come to let the kid run things without Mike and Joe continually looking over his shoulder.

  November caught sight of Joe as she walked up his path. She changed direction and headed for the wrought-iron gate. The look on her face said she’d heard about his decision to leave for a while.

  “When were you going to tell me?” she called out, opening the gate wide then slamming it shut. “You’ve never kept secrets from me.”

  She’d crossed her arms at her chest, her hip jutting out while she tapped her foot. Joe smiled. November could turn the grayest of days around with her feisty attitude. He had no doubt Asher thanked his lucky stars for the gift that was his niece.

  “You wanna beer?” Joe asked.

  “No, I don’t wanna beer. I want an explanation. Brandon told me you’re stepping down and planning to hit the road for God knows how long.”

  Joe leaned forward and grabbed his bottle of whiskey, pouring more into his glass. He and November were close. Had been since she came to town. He’d taught her to ride, and they shared the love of the open road. Even with all her girls, she still made time for the occasional day trip so she could feel the freedom that came with miles of asphalt.

  After taking a sip of the amber liquid, Joe leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I’m restless,” he began. “Spent most of my life doing the right thing. What was best for everyone else. I’m at an age where it’s now or never.” He lifted his head and looked November squarely in the eyes. “Now it’s my turn. I’m hitting the road to find answers. If I’m lucky, if God sees fit, I’ll find what I’m looking for—who I’m looking for.”

  November’s beautiful eyes softened at the sides. She took a seat beside him in one of his Adirondack chairs, then reached out a hand and placed it on his arm.

  “What answers? Who are you looking for, Uncle Joe?”

  He took another drink, then his eyes darted to his computer, to the image of a woman who was part angel-part seductress. “For an angel with fire in her eyes.”

  “An angel . . . Is this someone specific or a general description?”

  He kept his eyes trained on the image without answering. The accompanying article said the woman was Bernice Armstrong, the daughter of a shipping tycoon from one of the oldest families to settle in Savannah, Georgia. She still bore the same surname, as did her sister, Eunice, the other woman in the video. He wondered briefly if that was on purpose, or if her man was too much of an idiot to put a ring on her finger.

  November looked at what held his attention and leaned forward, taking in the paused video. “Kidnapping?”

  “Attempted. Happened about a month ago.”

  “Someone tried to kidnap a senator’s child?”

  “Seems like. They were on vacation on Tybee Island when the attempt was made, and the neighbors next door heard the screams and stepped in.” Just the thought of Bernice trying to stop a dangerous man burned in his gut. Where the fuck was her man? Why wasn’t he there to step in?

  November squinted her eyes at the image in contemplation. “Does that woman look familiar?”

  His niece missed nothing. Never had. “Yeah. She was there the day we left the island. The one watering her plants.”

  Her eyes darted to his, and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. She may be a Mayson now, but she was Rouger through and through. Nothing got past her, which was why he hadn’t bothered to lie. She’d have seen it in his eyes.

  “The woman who held your attention. The reason I suspect you were in a foul mood when we left.”

  Sharp as a fucking tack.

  “The same.”

  “Is that where you’re headed? To Tybee?”

  He shook his head. “She’s got a man. I’m hitting the road to take a break from life and figure out my next move. I’m tired of being alone, so I need to make some changes.”

  Not surprisingly, November ignored the latter and focused on the former. “She’s married?” She seemed confused by his statement.

  “Not sure about married, but she had a man. Didn’t you see him?”

  She rolled her lips between her teeth, keeping silent for a moment. “Yeah, but I wasn’t paying that much attention, because it was clear you were intrigued by her. Is it possible you’re mistaken? I mean, no woman I know who is happily attached, be it married or not, would look at another man the way she looked at you. It was almost . . . Well, it reminded me of when I saw Asher for the first time. That moment of recognition. When you know you’re standing in front of your future, so to speak. It’s what the Mayson men like to call the BOOM!”

  Joe’s mouth twitched. “The BOOM!?”

  She nodded with enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to explain, but when I shook Asher’s hand after he was done accusing me of being dad’s woman,”—she chuckled at the reminder—“well, when our hands touched, there was this spark, for lack of a better word, and we both felt it. Asher and his brothers call it the Mayson Curse. The BOOM! moment. It’s different for each guy, but mostly it’s a gut instinct that tells them when they’ve met the right woman.”

  “So, you zapped Asher’s brain, did you?” he teased. “Is that how you got him to settle down?”

  She ignored him and reached across his body, hitting Play on t
he video. The fire in Bernice’s eyes ignited further, then she pushed through the hordes of reporters with her back ramrod straight. “She doesn’t strike me as a woman who takes crap from anyone. Like a woman who knows what she wants. She might be worth the trip to see if this man is still in her life.”

  “She does seem to have a backbone,” Joe agreed, ignoring the fact November was trying to goad him into heading to Tybee. She was too much of a romantic at heart. “But she’s taken, so let it go.”

  “If you’re sure she’s taken, why are you sitting here watching this?”

  Million-dollar question.

  “I was looking for beach communities to visit, and the caption caught my attention since we were there last year. Nothing more. I just happened to recognize her from our trip.”

  “So, you aren’t gonna head to Tybee to find out for sure if she has a man?”

  His niece was like a dog with a bone when she set her teeth into something.

  “I’m not heading to Tybee,” he answered, then hit Fast-forward until he found the bit where her man helped her into his car. Bernice was smiling at him, then reached out and cupped his cheek, patting it twice before throwing her head back and laughing. The affection was clear as day, and it made his hands curl into fists.

  November watched the video and shook her head. “Poor woman doesn’t know what’s she’s missing being tied to him . . . Is it just me, or does he look like a cross between Sonny Crockett and Colonel Sanders?”

  Joe looked back at the man and studied him. His hair was longer than was in style, and his goatee was silver from age. He had on what looked like tan linen trousers, which he’d paired with a light-colored T-shirt and white linen jacket. Joe grunted at the image. She was right. He looked like he’d stepped off the set of Miami Vice.

  “No wonder she drooled when she saw you if that’s what’s keeping her company at night.”

  He reached out and nudged her head, and she swatted his hand. “You’re hot, Joe. There are women my age who would kill to go out with you. I’m not kidding. I bet that woman has thought of you a time or two since we left.”

  Joe stood, closing his computer. “Like I said before, let it go.”

  She grabbed his hand when he moved to head inside. He turned back and saw her eyes had grown worried; her brows pulled together in sorrow. “You’re coming back, right? You promise you won’t disappear on me?”

  November had grown up in New York with a mother who didn’t give a shit. She’d missed out on having a loving family around her, so she was fiercely protective of the one she had now.

  Joe had no idea where the road would take him, so he didn’t want to lie. Instead, he answered the only way he knew how. “It would take an extraordinary woman to keep me away from this town.”

  Two

  I know a good PI

  Three days later . . .

  JOE LOOKED UP FROM his paperwork and scanned the security monitors. Teasers had opened an hour earlier, and all seemed quiet. Tiffany was on stage, surrounded by construction workers blowing off steam after a long day, and a lone man sat at the bar, his body turned toward the bartender instead of facing the stage. Joe scanned the outside monitors briefly, then went back to his inventory list. For months now, they’d had stock come up missing. He was determined to figure out which one of his staff was stealing before he took off for parts unknown.

  Teasers took care of all its employees, not just the dancers who, more often than not, were stripping to escape a shitty life. Joe and his brother never asked questions when a woman came looking for a job. It wasn’t their place to judge why they chose to strip. All they could do, what they’d always done since the day they’d opened their doors, was to treat them with respect and help them out in any way they could. Some women took advantage of their offer to help them move on to a better life, while others chose to stay buried under the weight of it. In the thirty-some-odd years they’d been in business, they’d seen all types. Even housewives who drove down from Nashville. Some with their husbands in tow as a way to spice up their sex lives.

  Their club was clean. The interior tasteful. It wasn’t some shithole where the owners took advantage of down-on-their-luck women, so it pissed him off someone was stealing. They’d always had an open-door policy: if you were in trouble, if you needed more money than you earned at Teasers, you talked to Mike, Brandon, or Joe. Joe had never turned a trusted employee away, so the fact someone was stealing made no sense.

  Movement caught his eye on the monitor overlooking the employee parking area. In the distance, he could make out the shape of two people huddled behind a truck. He squinted, then cursed under his breath, pulling out glasses he refused to wear in public. The phrase ‘grow old gracefully’ was a crock of shit. He’d grow old when they put him in the cold hard ground, and not a day before.

  The image cleared the moment he placed the glasses on his face, but it blurred again when anger shot hard and fast through his body. One of their new hires, Charlotte Pegg, a down-on-her-luck mother who reminded Joe of Scarlet Avery, his friend from high school and the reason Teasers existed at all, was with a man, and she had a straw to her nose, snorting what looked like a line of white powder. Joe tolerated a fuck of a lot when it came to his employees, but drugs were not one of them. If they came to work stoned, they got a warning to clean up their act or face the consequences. If it happened again, they were gone.

  This was her second offense.

  “Fuck, but I don’t need this shit,” Joe bit out, rising from his chair. Charlotte was on probation for passing stolen checks. Her probation officer had already called Joe to make sure she was toeing the line, and Joe had been honest about her smoking weed in the dressing room.

  Life threw shit at people. At everyone. You either got back up and punched life in the face and kept on going, or you collapsed under the weight of it. Both Joe and her probation officer tried to encourage her to punch back, to get her GED so she could get a nine-to-five job that would allow her to get her daughter back from foster care. Clearly, she’d rather wallow in the shit life handed her than stepping into the ring. Now he’d have to let her go and report her termination to her probation officer.

  She should have known better than to bring that shit back to his club. He was honest with his employees from the moment he hired them. They all knew he had cameras set up for their protection, and for his, but they didn’t know where the cameras were hidden. It was supposed to keep them honest. Supposed to deter stealing his liquor or using drugs on his property.

  Joe passed a mirror on the way out of his office. He glanced at the man he’d become and kept on walking. Gray had peppered his temples and was mixed in with his beard. Where the hell had the time gone? He remembered high school like it was last week; remembered his twins, Chris and Nick, being born like it happened yesterday. But somewhere along the way, life had moved forward and taken him along with it.

  When he reached the end of the hall, he punched open the back door and headed toward the employee parking lot. One of his bouncers stuck his head out the door and whistled. Joe turned and waved him off. He could handle whatever he found. Years of lifting weights to keep his six-foot-two body in shape had left him toned and strong. He didn’t need a fucking bouncer to handle the dirty work; he’d manhandled his fair share of drunks and deadbeats over the years. What he needed was a break from the constant shit that came with running a strip club.

  He needed a different life.

  Charlotte, or Charlie as she liked to be called, had her fingers to her nose, sniffing loudly to draw the narcotics deeper into her lungs when Joe approached. She had her back turned to him, but the man with her looked up as he put a vial away.

  “Come in tomorrow, and I’ll have your final check waiting for you,” Joe barked, causing her to jump.

  “Shit! Joe, I—”

  “I told you the last time you pulled this shit, it was your only warning. Told you if you brought drugs on my property again, we’d end our association.”<
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  Her face had paled as he spoke, then the waterworks started. And fuck, if that didn’t settle heavy in his chest. She had potential. Was smart. Could be anything she put her mind to, but she kept making the wrong choices over and over. A part of him wanted to give her another chance, but the realistic part of him knew that until she hit rock bottom, she would never pull herself together. Her rock bottom should have been stripping for a living, but it clearly wasn’t, so Joe wouldn’t keep her around to find out how much further she’d fall.

  Some people just needed a helping hand—a kindness to show them a different path—and they’d hit the ground running to a better life. Others needed to be hit upside the head with the ugly truth before they scraped off the filth and reached out for help. Charlie was going to be the latter, and it burned in his gut that was the case.

  “Please, Joe!” She tried to grab his shirt, and he stepped back.

  Her eyes grew wild when she realized he wouldn’t budge, so she dropped to her knees in the dirty parking lot and reached out a hand to grab his cock through his jeans. “I’ll make this right,” she pleaded in panic. “I’ll make you feel good.” Joe dodged her advances, and she fell to all fours. Her head hung in defeat. She didn’t move except for the sobs that wracked her body.

  Joe stared at the broken woman and remembered dozens of scenes like this one that had played out over the years. He’d always been the enforcer. The one to handle the shit that crept inside their club. As the older sibling, he’d been determined to keep the darker side of owning a strip club from his brother. But it had come with a price on his soul.

  Joe turned his attention to the man standing behind Charlie. The asshole seemed entertained by the tableau in front of him. “You her man?”