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Skylar flinched at the harshness of my words. I was filled with shame I had never experienced before. I had always been fine with my choices but looking back at what I felt compelled to do, and Tiffany’s hand in the machinations, I felt used and controlled, and it reframed my past in a way that sickened me.
“You think your mom or Sam would want you doing that to yourself just so you could take care of them?” Skylar asked, her eyes sad.
“I know they wouldn’t. I can only think how disappointed my mom would be if she knew. Which is ultimately what made me tell Tiffany I wanted out.” I absently rubbed Edgar’s head. He was resting his chin on my knee as if he knew I needed the support. “She didn’t take it well and she actually went to my mom’s house. She didn’t tell her who she was, just that she was concerned about me. My mom was very upset, thinking I was overwhelmed with school and couldn’t handle the pressure. She thought Tiffany was just my boss at some random job.”
“She sure likes to fuck with your life,” Skylar said. “That woman has serious control issues.”
“I know. Which is what I realized and why I got the hell away from her. I had no idea that she had in fact been keeping tabs on me all this time.” I should have known though. I knew what kind of person Tiffany was. Had I really thought I’d been able to shake her that easily?
“Okay, so you’ve explained about Tiffany, but that doesn’t explain this.” She picked up the flash drive. “If you felt so horrible doing all that stuff, why have you kept doing it? You have a great career, you’ve found success, so what gives?” She seemed genuinely perplexed.
How do I explain this without sounding pathetic?
“I became addicted to it, Sky. I loved being a dancer. Of having women get turned on by me. Of my being able to pleasure them without even touching them. Their desire for me was a drug I couldn’t give up. I grew up a scrawny kid, the target of bullying. Girls never looked at me as someone they wanted to be with. But up there, on the stage, and when I was on those dates with those women, I was someone else. I was desirable. They wanted me. Even if I was playing a part, it still felt good.” I ran my hands through my hair. “And the money was great. I only started making a decent paycheck from the law firm a couple of years ago. Between my bills, Sam’s care, my mortgage, and Mom’s mortgage I was still hand-to-mouth. The website gave me a steady influx of cash, so I didn’t have to worry.” I picked at the skin around my thumb, a nervous habit I hadn’t experienced since I was a kid.
“And Adam and Jeremy have no idea you do this?” she asked.
My eyes widened. “Hell no. Can you imagine Wyatt’s reaction if he found out?” I laughed without humor. “Though that’s part of what’s so appealing about it. The secrecy. Everyone thinks I’m this boring, dull guy—”
“It feels good knowing you have something going on that they would never guess,” she surmised.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“And you were planning on telling me all this tonight? Or did Tiffany force your hand?” Skylar questioned.
This time I took her hand. I had to touch her. I needed the physical connection with her in a way that was painful. “I swear to you, I was going to tell you everything. I did go see her last night—”
“She made you chicken parmigiana, you’re favorite.” She rolled her eyes.
“I sure as hell didn’t eat a meal with her. I went to her house and told her to get out of town. That if she didn’t, I’d report her to the IRS for tax fraud.”
Skylar’s eyes widened. “Whoa, really?”
I nodded. “Jeremy came to me earlier in the week and showed me a bunch of paperwork she had given him for the purchase of the land outside of town. Seems she’s been sending a lot of money offshore. She’s been evading taxes for almost a decade. That’s jail time if the feds were to find out.”
“Well, shit, no wonder she was bee-lining it out of town. She tried to paint a picture that it was because she realized the two of you weren’t meant to be together or some such nonsense. She really is a master liar.” Skylar pressed her mouth into a thin line. “But why didn’t you tell me all this before? Did you think I’d judge you? That I wouldn’t understand?”
“I didn’t know. I was scared. Can you blame me? That’s a heavy load of stuff to put on your shoulders. I wanted to trust you’d understand my past, but I was terrified you wouldn’t. I’ve been so used to secrets; it’s become my de facto response. I didn’t know how to open up, especially about this,” I explained.
