My clothes may be hideously outdated, but they leave nothing to the imagination. Even with my tee being a little baggy, my shorts are so tight-fitting, I couldn’t look any more naked unless Iwerenaked.
The dark-haired man’s lips twitch as he struggles to hold in his smile. “Would you be open to the possibility of doing it nak—”
“No,” I interrupt him, not the least bit worried about my bitchy attitude.
Just like it always does, my ten-minute acrobatic routine stripped the anguish from my mind, leaving me free of turmoil. I was unsuccessful in securing a job today, but that doesn't mean I will be unsuccessful tomorrow.I hope.
I shift my eyes to the lackey watching our exchange with amusement slashed across his features. When I capture his attention, I nudge my head to the hoist, requesting he continue to lower my ribbons.
When he does as requested, I pad to my gym bag left dumped on the floor.
The club owner shadows me. “Topless?”
“No,” I answer, shaking my head.
He follows me off the stage, his desperation interesting me more than his suggestions. “What about a glittery little number with a few well-placed tassels. . .”
The rest of his sentence rams into his throat when I shoot him a vicious sideways glare. “I’m only here because your ad said you were looking for dancers. If it had mentioned the word stripper, I wouldn’t have auditioned.”
“Huh,” he huffs out with a chuckle. “Did you not see the big ‘Gentleman’s Club’ in bright red letters innumerousspots outside the club doors? You’re here, sweetheart. . .” He doesn’t emphasize his term of endearment as pleasantly as he did the first few times. “. . .because you are like every other girl who walked through those doors today. You’re desperate.”
Having no plausible defense, I remain quiet. I saw the signs he mentioned. They flashed into my eyes like big ass warnings, yet, I still walked through the doors because I am exactly what he said I am:desperate.
“So, what is it? Are you paying a hefty tuition fee, running, or are you an addict?”
His eyes scan my body. I wouldn’t say it is an overly sleazy gawk, but it isn’t a friendly one either. “Considering you’re a little too old to be saddled with school fees, I’ll say it is one of the latter.”
I roll my eyes, not looking any more mature than my nearly twenty-nine years. “I’m not doing any of those things. Maybe I’m just a poor, lonely housewife who wants to stick it to her old man by shaking her moneymaker for paying clients instead of his lazy ass.”
I’m startled to within an inch of my life when he seizes my wrist and yanks me toward him. I’m five seconds from showing him aerial ribboning isn’t the only way I’ve kept fit the past ten years. I also practice martial arts.
He is saved from discovering my love of boxing when his lackey says, "Come on, Pete, let her go."
Pete ignores his request. “No track marks on your arms. Where do you shoot up? Between your toes?” His eyes drop to my bare feet.
I yank my arm out of his grip. “I’m not a drug addict.”
“So you’re running?” he surmises, reading between the lines.
“I didn’t say that,” I snarl, snatching my ribbon from where it landed on stage.
I need to leave, and I need to leave now. I raise my eyes to the man observing me with worry. He is no longer sucking on a lollipop like someone much younger; his squinted gaze is bouncing between Pete and me.
When the late-hanging sun reflects in his glistening eyes, it dawns on me why I felt immediately comfortable around him. He has wise, old eyes like my dad had.
God, I miss him.Every. Single. Day.
There is only one person I’ve missed nearly as much. He is the same man who restored my faith in humanity before destroying it beyond repair. The one man I’ll always love even when I hate.Ryan.
I thought our five-year separation when we were teens was torture, but it was nothing compared to the past ten years. Ryan deceived me, yet the man who creeps into my dreams isn't a liar or a cheat. He is the boy I fell madly in love with when I was six. The man who chased away my demons while making me feel whole. He is a knight in shining armor, but instead of riding in on a white horse, he had a dark blue bike with recently removed training wheels.
I dared Ryan to step out of his comfort zone that day, and he challenged me to step into mine. If it weren't for his words of wisdom whispered in my ear every night, I would never have the courage to do what I am doing right now. To an outsider, it looks like I've hit rock bottom. To me, I'm striving for better—one day at a time.
After stuffing my ribbons and bolts into my gym bag, I return my eyes to the stranger, who is once again sucking on his beloved lollipop.
“Thank you,” I mouth, my worry about being homeless incapable of excusing my manners.
He grins around his treat before dipping his chin. “Until next time.”
