AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His jaw twitches but he doesn’t make a sound.
“How’d you ride with your hand all banged up?” I ask quietly.
“Didn’t feel it until I stopped.”
I study his lip closer. “Let me get something to clean that.”
“Emily—”
“Hold this.” I tap the bag of peas and he closes his other hand around it, then picks it up and presses it to his face.
A knife of concern twists in my chest. I hate seeing him hurt. Even such a small injury. Shaking it off, I hurry to the downstairs bathroom, grab what I need, and return.
He allows me to clean him up without too much of a fuss. Once I’ve done everything possible to care for him and prolong what I really want to talk about, I sit back against the couch next to him. He curls his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer.
“Thank you.” He leans in, kissing the top of my head.
I sigh and snuggle closer. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“I swear it’s not a regular occurrence.” He kisses my head again, then lingers, as if he’s inhaling my very essence. “This makes it worth it, though.”
Butterflies return to my stomach. Whatever problems I thought we needed to discuss evaporate.
Nope, nope, nope. Focus.
All afternoon and evening, I thought about what I want to say and how to express it without sounding like a judgmental prude. I mean, obviously I’m not a prude. The man’s been in my panties more than any other man this decade. But now, after that admission from him, I don’t want to say any of it.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Emily.”
I take a deep breath and sit up to face him. “It bothers me that you earn a living off of women selling their bodies,” I finally say.
He nods slowly. “So it’s not just being around other women?”
“I’m not thrilled about that either.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “First, they’re not selling theirbodies. We don’t allowthat.” He must have decided to tackle one issue at a time. “That’s why I’m so vigilant about enforcing the ‘no touching’ policy. The women are selling anexperience. A fantasy.”
“It’s still…” Why can’t I find the right words? I was full of them earlier. “I don’t buy the argument that taking off all your clothes is somehow empowering. Even if it’s supposedly your choice. If that’s the only option a woman has, then it’s not a choice, you know?”
He blinks a few times, as if he’s entered into a different argument than he expected. “I get what you’re saying,” he says. “I do. I’m not trying to be a dick and play semantics with you. You’re not wrong.” He stops and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Itcanbe a seedy business. No doubt about it. We try to keep everything clean and safe for the girls.” He lets out a cynical laugh. “A lot of MCs run strip clubs. Sort of comes with the territory.”
I didn’t realize a “club” had the need to operate a business. “Why?”
“Cash business.” He shrugs, indicating I can infer whatever I want from that. “I think I understand your point about choice. But a lot of the girlsaredancing to pay for college. Others are stacking paper to reach a goal—to buy a house, a car. We have one girl saving to open her own nail salon. Some have kids to support…” His voice trails off, like he’s frustrated he has to explain this to anyone. “It’s not ideal. But itisa way for them to climb out of a bad situation.”
I open my mouth, a snarky quip dancing on the edge of my tongue.
But…I’m stuck on what he said about having kids to support. What wouldIhave done when our parents died if Libby and I didn’t have Aunt Kim to take us into her home?
We had money that our parents left us. Later, we had the house and money from our aunt. But what if wedidn’thave those safety nets? I still wouldn’t have placed Libby in foster care.
How would I have finished schoolandsupported us?
Would I have had the courage to get up on a stage and bare every inch of my skin to strangers? Night after night? And then go to school the next day like everything was totally normal?
I shudder violently at the thought.
No. No, I wouldn’t.
