by K. A. Tucker
Cain leans over the bar as I line up ten shots of vodka. “How do you like Penny’s so far, Kacey?” he asks over the music.
I offer him a nod and smile. “It’s great, Cain. Money’s really good.”
“Great. Saving that for college I hope?”
“Yup.” Just likely not for me.
“And what are you interested in?”
I pause, deciding how to answer that one. I choose honesty versus a smart ass remark. This is my boss, after all. “Not sure. Don’t have a lot of direction right now.” For some reason, Cain’s question doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t feel intrusive. “I’m more concerned about getting my little sister into pre-med.”
“Ah, yes. This famous raven-haired angel that Storm has praised.” Cain’s shrewd eyes narrow. “You’re a hard worker and you’re welcome here as long as you need the job, but make sure you find that direction soon. You can do better than slinging drinks. Keep up the good work.” He pats the bar and continues on, leaving me staring at his back.
“What’s his story?” I ask Storm.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I think he may be one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. A paradox to the strip club owner persona. I haven’t seen him so much as squeeze an ass. He takes the time to say hi. Now he’s encouraging me not to work here because I’m too good for the place.”
She smiles. “Yeah, he’s definitely special. He had a hard upbringing. It had to do with clubs and the women in his life being abused.” She grabs the bottle of JD from in front of me. “Speaking of Trent …”
What? The sudden change of topic sends me reeling. With a smug grin, Storm jerks her chin over to a table not far from us. Sure enough, there’s Trent. He’s shown up for the last three nights at eleven by himself. He doesn’t approach me. He just orders his drinks and sits at a safe distance. I know he’s watching me, though. My skin prickles under his gaze. It’s beginning to get on my nerves.
“Kace.” Storm leans in. “Can I ask you something?”
“No.” I grab a knife and a lime and begin slicing it into eighths.
There’s a pause. “Why do you keep ignoring him? He stops by every night to see you.”
“Yeah, in a strip club. Every night. By himself. That’s what we call a freak.”
“He hardly looks at the dancers, Kace,” she says. “And I’ve seen you looking at him all night, too.”
“I have not!” I claim too quickly, my voice shrill. I’ve tried not to, I tell myself. Apparently I’ve failed miserably.
She ignores me. “I think Trent really likes you and he seems like a nice guy. There’s nothing wrong with going to talk to him, at least. I know you’re not a mean person, deep down.”
I fight back the guilt that’s swelling inside. Yes I am, Storm. I am mean. I do it intentionally. It’s safer that way. For everyone. “I’m not interested.” I set my jaw as I keep cutting.
She lets out a huge exhale. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m going to ask him out then ‘cause he is fine.”
My jaw drops as my eyes fly to Storm’s face and I’m sure there’s outright murder shining in them. How can she betray me like that? And she calls herself a friend?
“Ha! Gotcha!” Storm holds up a finger. “I knew it. Admit it. Admit you want to go over and talk to that sex on a stick.” She slides away with a teasing grin, singing, “Trent and Kacey … sittin’ in a tree …”
“Shut up.” Right now my face feels like a burning hot forest fire. I try to ignore Storm, Trent, and the ever-looming Nate as a customer comes up order a drink. “Two Whiskey Sours, coming right up!” I announce, slamming two tumbler glasses onto the counter. I have no clue what goes in a Whisky Sour and I doubt this guy wants me experimenting. I raise an expectant brow to Storm.
She responds by crossing her arms over her chest. “Not unless you go talk to him.”
I purse my lips. “Fine,” I hiss. “After. Now would you help me with the drinks before I poison this fine gentleman?”
With a victorious smirk, Storm tosses two drinks together and slides them over the bar.
“That sweet southern bell thing is all an act, isn’t it?”
The smirk morphs into an innocent pout. “I reckon I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” she drawls, fanning herself with a dish cloth.
Somehow, whether it’s her teasing or her obvious ecstatic mood over wearing me down, my face splits into a grin.
“Halleluiah! Look at that! Miss Kacey is smilin’ again!” She presses the back of her hand against her forehead. “Ain’t it a blessed sight?”
She flinches as the piece of lime I pelt at her hits her thigh. But then I follow up with a deep bow. “Teach me, you must. Become great, I will.”
Storm gives me a playful shove and then goes back to serve the next guy, while a sudden flurry of nervous activity erupts inside me. Oh God, what have I agreed to? My hands go to my abdomen. One … two… three … I concentrate on inhaling and exhaling. I’m not used to this feeling. It’s awful and stressful and if I accept it, exhilarating. I lean down to put the knife back in its safety drawer and stand to move toward the bar exit.
A deep set of dimples meets me.
“I can’t seem to get a drink at the table without being accosted,” Trent murmurs with a crooked smirk, leaning across the bar. “I have no idea why.”
I pull in a slow and wobbly breath. Don’t lose your cool around him, Kacey. For once! “Some people must find you very … accostable,” I respond as my insides liquefy. Christ! Even my nipples are hardening. Worse, through this thin black satin sheath dress, Trent will see them if he looks down.
“Is that even a word?” His eyes twinkle and I have to pace my breathing as my heart starts hammering against my ribs. Now that I’ve come to terms with the fact that the bastard is going to affect me whether I like it or not, he’s even hotter than before. Breathe, Kace.
“So, no more snake incidents?” he asks. If my cruelty the other day bothered him, either he’s gotten over it or he never cared to begin with. It’s a relief to my conscience in any case.
“No, Superman Tanner is on it.” In reality, Tanner has transformed into my mini-hero. While I showered at Storm’s and headed off to the gym that day, he secured our apartment like a dutiful pot-bellied guard dog, not leaving until the doors were in place and locked. And then Storm heard through the apartment’s grapevine that Tanner went to Pervie Pete’s apartment and tore a strip out of him, threatening to make a bowtie out of his balls if there’s ever another incident like that again. Tanner is turning out to be a mud-covered gem.
Trent places his drink on the counter. “So, would you mind accosting … er … pouring me a drink?”
My focus drops to the limes in front of me as I work to regain my composure. He’s flirting with me. I don’t remember how to do that. I don’t know if it’s all the flesh or music around us or the fact that, Storm’s right, he is sex on a stick, but suddenly I feel the urge to try. “That depends. Do you have I.D.?”
His elbows support him as he leans onto the bar, frowning playfully. “For a club soda?”
That catches me off guard. He sat in a strip club all night and he’s not drinking? I quickly gain my composure and shrug. “Suit yourself.” I pull the knife out of the drawer again and I begin slicing limes, my movements focused and slow so I don’t chop my shaking fingers off in his intense presence.
“Stubborn,” I hear him mutter as he slides his I.D. across the bar. With a curious grin, I pick it up. It’s hard to read it under the dim light, but I exaggerate with one closed lid as if I’m straining to read. “Trent Emerson. Six foot-three.” My gaze drives up and down the length of that gorgeous, hard torso, stopping at his belt. “Yeah, that’s about right. Blue eyes.” I don’t even have to look at them to know, but I do anyway, staring intently until I feel a blush creep in. “Yup. Born December thirty-first?” Two weeks after my birthday.
He smiles. “Almost a New Years baby.”
>
“1987. That makes you almost twenty-five?” Five years older than me. Not too old. Though if his I.D. said 1887 and he looked like that, I don’t think I’d care.
“Old enough for a club soda, I think,” he smirks, holding his hand out. I don’t give the I.D. back right away. Not before noting his address in Rochester. “You’re a long way from New York State,” I say as I slide it back across the bar and leave it for him to pick up.
“I needed a change.”
“Don’t we all?” I pour his drink. From my peripherals, I notice his eyes linger on my shoulder, and I self-consciously re-angle my body. I’m sure the scars all over my body would gross him out. Then again, he did see some of them already. Scratch that. All of them. This guy has seen me naked. Plenty of guys have seen me naked and I didn’t care. Trent seeing me naked though? My hand starts to shake.
“Feeling better tonight, Kace?”
I jolt at the voice, the blood draining from my face as Ben leans up against the bar next to me with a knowing smirk. He sticks his hand out. “Hey, I’m Ben. I saw you at the gym the other day when I was working out with Kacey.” The way he said “working out” makes my tongue slide back into my throat.
“Trent.” Trent is cordial enough, but I notice he stands up to his full height and the corners of his mouth flatten slightly. He’s big. Bigger than Ben even, though not as bulky.
“So who are you here for tonight, Trent? And last night? And the night before? Can’t be the dancers since you’re busy staring at Kacey the entire time.”
“Ben!” I bark, imagining poison daggers shooting from my pupils to stab him in the tongue.
He ignores me. “Yeah, Kacey talks about you all the time. She won’t shut up. It’s getting annoying.”
I slam the drink down onto the counter with a shaky hand, all the while mentally tearing Ben’s tongue out of his mouth and shoving it up his ass so he can get a firsthand taste of what an asshole he is.
“I highly doubt that.” With a soft chuckle, Trent takes his glass and steps away, a strange smirk on his face. “Better let you get back to work. Thanks for the drink.”
As soon as he’s turned, my hand rushes to Ben’s bicep to grab the muscle bulge and twist.
He howls and jumps back, but he’s grinning a split second later as he rubs the sore spot.
“What the hell was that?” I hiss.
He leans in close. “Life’s too short to play whatever stupid game you’re playing at, Kace. You guys are both into each other so stop screwing around.”
“Mind your own damn business, Ben.”
He leans in even closer, until his face is inches from mine. “I would if you hadn’t dragged me into the middle of this. Literally. And then kicked me out. Literally.” A pause. “Has he hurt you?”
I shake my head, knowing exactly what he’s getting at.
“Then get help for whatever issues you have and move on.” He grins mischievously. “Plus, I owed you. You gave me the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had. That should be your stage name.” Lewd eyes drift over my chest and back up. “Though I have to say it was worth it. Gave me plenty of mental images for when I’m alone.”
I throw a towel at him as he walks away, howling with laughter.
If only it were that simple, Ben.
***
At midnight, Trent is still there, sipping on his club sodas, and Storm is hounding me like a hyena around a carcass. “Go talk to him again.”
“No.”
“Why are you being so difficult, Kacey?”
“Because I’m a difficult person.” I wipe the counter as I mutter quietly, “it can’t happen anyway.”
“Why not?”
I shake my head, my brow furrowing deeply. “It just can’t. He doesn’t deserve to get shoved out of a shower stall.”
“What?” I hear Storm exclaim, but I’m not listening. I don’t need Ben and Storm prodding me forward. My own internal urges are doing just fine battling with my will power. I really want to go talk to Trent. Stand next to him. Kiss him … Whatever switch I’ve relied on these past few years to block all appeal and make my life easy has failed me miserably, opening the doors to a flood of desire and emotions that I don’t know how to deal with.
“He’s too … good. And nice.”
“And you’re nice too. Once you stop trying to be a bitch.” The way she adds that last part, it’s as if she wasn’t planning on saying it out loud. I catch her eyes widen in a flash.
“Nicely done, Storm,” I commend her genuinely.
She sticks her tongue out at me. “He’s been sitting in a strip club all night, waiting for you.”
“Oh, the horror,” I mutter as I point to the stage where Skyla and Candy grind against each other.
“Who are you guys talking about?” A Greek goddess with breasts to rival Storm’s calls out as she places an order of drinks on her tray.
“Table thirty-two,” Storm says.
With a roll of her eyes, she ascertains, “That dude’s gay.”
“Then what’s he doing in Penny’s, Pepper?” Storm asks in a sweet tone.
Pepper. Pshhh! Stupid name.
Pepper gives a lazy shrug. “China’s been workin’ him hard for a private dance, half off, and he won’t give. He’s keepin’ a close eye on Ben though.”
I bite my tongue before I explain that he won’t give because he doesn’t like dirty-ass sluts. I don’t know who this China is, but I want to rip her guts out. I’m not too fond of Pepper either. I should stalk over there and pee around his table to stake my claim. Wait ... what? Jeez, Kacey.
“He’s just waiting for his private show with Kacey later,” Storm offers and spins on her heels. I catch Pepper’s eyes narrow as she studies what she must see as cash-competition. I can’t tell what’s going on in that mind of hers. I doubt it can be much. I glare back at her all the same.
“Here.” Storm shoves a filled glass into my hand. “Go and talk to him again. You need a break anyway.”
“Fine.” I hiss. “But when we come back, we need to discuss my stage name. Maybe something like ‘Salt,’ or ‘Lollipop’ or ‘Pomegranate.’”
“I hear ‘Blue Balls’ might fit better,” Storm throws in with a sly wink.
I gasp, my finger jabbing the air pointedly at her and then searching the crowd for Ben, ready to cleave his tongue out.
“Don’t worry, he just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she whispers, all hints of joking gone. “I don’t judge. Your secret’s safe with me, you vixen.” I head toward the exit when Storm shouts, “Hey! How about Vixen as your stage name?”
I ignore her, sucking in a lungs worth of air as I lift the counter panel and walk through. I try not to fuss too much with my dress, but I do it all the same. Hell, just admit it, Kacey. Trent intimidates you. Just looking at him perched on his chair, leaning against the table, butterflies slam around inside my stomach. When it’s obvious that I’m heading straight for Trent, I notice him sit up straighter, like he might be a bit anxious too. That brings me small relief.
I place his club soda down on the table with a small smile. “What are the chances that you’re still here?”
“What are the chances, indeed.” He offers me a wry smile in return.
“A guy moves into a new town and spends every night at the local strip club. Alone.”
Trent doesn’t miss a beat. “… and finds two of his neighbors working behind the bar.”
I pick up his empty glass. “Storm has convinced me it will be a life-altering experience.”
His gaze skims the stage floor suggestively and I catch a flicker of disapproval in them. “I guess that depends on what you’re doing here.”
“No.” I quickly throw out. “Clothes on at all times. It’s mandatory.” I bite my lip. A little too eager to announce that, Kacey.
Trent considers my face for a moment and then he nods. “Good.”
I can’t help but drift to Trent’s lips when he says that, how they remain part
ed after, how soft they look. “Um …” I shake my head, trying to uncloud my thoughts. “So you’re not holding back on the strong stuff tonight, I see?”
He gives his drink a long, hard look. Another small smile. “Yeah, you better watch out. I get crazy when I drink this shit straight.”
I giggle. I giggle! “What do you drink when you’re not downing soda like a fiend?”
“Milk, water. The occasional Coke.”
I frown. “No beer? JD? Tequila?”
He shakes his head as he takes the straw between his lips, a flash of seriousness smoothing his grin. “Don’t touch the stuff anymore.” His eyes slide up to meet mine and they stay there for a moment. “I like being fully aware of everything that’s happening.”
Fully aware. Really, Trent? You want to know that my thong is drenched right now? I lick my lips without thinking, attracting his attention to my mouth. Heat rises through my body, crawling up my neck, down my back, along my thighs. “I … um …”
Thankfully, he breaks the awkwardness. “So what brings you to Miami?”
“Change of scenery?” I offer his earlier excuse, silently praying that he won’t press me with any personal questions. Right now, I think I’d sing like a canary. Anything to keep him talking to me. Mercifully, Trent doesn’t press.
“Have you changed your mind, sweetheart?” A lusty voice says behind me, interrupting us. I turn to find a fake redhead moving in. She’s just tall enough to prop her voluptuous breasts onto the table in front of Trent. I watch as a red claw runs down the length of Trent’s muscular forearm. This must be China.
A part of me wants to spin around and slam the bottom of my heel into her head. In kickboxing, we’d call that a Spinning Back Kick. Here, it’s called, “how to get my crazy jealous ass fired.” There’s no way I’d get a thumbs up from Cain on that one.
The other part of me is curious about how Trent’s going to handle this “accosting.” After the constant parade that first night, things had been fairly tame. I have to think it’s because, like Pepper, they presume he’s waiting for Ben to start batting for the other team.
