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Don’t look upset, don’t look upset.
“Hey-a hot stuff.” A plump, middle-aged man puts his hand on my arm.
The man turns to face me, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. His eyes are bloodshot and glossy. “C-can… can you get me a refill?”
Jamie hates the term “strip club” and insists we are running agentleman’s club, but most of the guys who come in here are like this jackoff. Hardly a ‘gentleman’.
“Yeah. Yeah. In a minute,” I tell him as I turn back to face the bar.
Jamie’s gaze is still locked on me.
So, this is how it’s going to go? He’s going to fuck me, and then just let this newcomer throw herself on him. Maddie leans closer to him and then Jamie looks back at her.
He’s not even pushing her off. Jamie is actually enjoying this attention. What a fucking scumbag.
We only fucked twice. Twice. I’m not jealous, no way, I can’t be, but it’s the principle. Like who does that? Who does that? Why am I even asking myself that question?
Wasn’t this exactly who Jamie was in high school? Detached. Cold. Self-absorbed.
Cruel.
My stomach flips, and my throat constricts. No, I am not going to get upset over this douchebag. He sent me off right after sex. Now he’s flirting with someone right in front of me. He…
“Hello?”
Right—the drunk man.
“What did you have?”
He blinks down at the ice in the bottom of his glass. “Whiskey? N-no.” He hiccups. “Vodka?” He chews his lip, trying to remember.
I take the glass from his hand. “Vodka it is.”
Don’t look at the bar, don’t look at the bar.And there she is, Maddie, still sitting on his lap. What the fuck?
This is fine—completely fine. Jamie doesn’t owe me anything. And I definitely don’t owe him shit. So why do I feel like something is ripping inside me?
A hand slaps my ass so hard I jump, and the glass nearly drops from my hand.
The drunk man grunts, “Nice.”
I snarl my upper lip and narrow my eyes at him. “Touch me again, and I’ll chop your fucking balls off.”
Before he can respond—before I can watch Maddie and Jamie make out—I drop the glass in the dirty bucket at the back corner of the front-of-house and spin around toward the back hallway, brushing past the drunk guy. As soon as I turn the corner, my knees buckle.
I lean against the doorjamb and press my hand against my mouth. Why am I freaking out?
Maybe because the closest thing I’ve ever had to a career job is this opportunity, and I’m worth so much more than this.
So much more than working at a strip club, slaving away for Jameson fucking Albrecht. Or giving myself to him.
How could I have been so blind?
I stumble through the bathroom and yank the faucet on, my hands gripping the sink.
Nothing has changed. I’m drowning in this hole, being sucked into the abyss of a repeating pattern that is spinning me upside down.
This is what my life has always been. This is what my life will always be. For a second there, I forgot. I wanted to forget. But I can’t. I can never forget. Because men will continue to take advantage of me until I stand up and do something about it. Jamie is no different from the drunk man who slapped my ass.
