Текст книги "Jagged Love"

Автор книги: Nicole Simone

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Being a barista at The Roasted Bean wasn’t my only job. This past week I got hired as a shot girl at an exclusive gentleman’s club that catered to the rich and famous. Rogue wasn’t a sleazy joint. It couldn’t be when men paid three grand for a VIP booth. Then again, I wouldn’t say it was classy either. Half-naked woman gyrated on poles; red velvet curtains lined the walls, and blackout windows warped time. The owner, Linda, had taken over the business from her father, which was sweet in a weird way. She was also fair and never stiffed any of her employees. As long as the men kept their hands to themselves, there were worse side gigs out there.

Thursday was Rogue’s busiest night. Drinks were half-off, so liquor flowed like water and made the crowd rowdier than it already was. Couldn’t complain though, tips were at a premium. I adjusted my bra to ensure the tissue paper was properly distributed. The first night I worked here, Linda told me my A-cup boobs wouldn’t cut it. Either I stuffed or got boob implants. I went with the cheaper option.

Billy, the bartender twirled a bottle of jack and poured it into a shot glass. “How’s your night going, Haven?”

“Not bad. How bout yourself?”

“Could be worse. My son finally started potty training so I don’t have to come into work reeking like shit anymore.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “You have a son?”

Billy was the last person I thought would have a kid. He was a tough talking born and bred Boston boy. The word “mortem” (death in Latin) was tattooed on his knuckles and his shaved head showed off a skull on his neck.

“Yeah, you want to see a picture?” Billy pulled a photograph out of his shirt pocket and slid it across the bar. A gap-toothed two-year-old smiled up at me. “Isn’t he adorable?”

“You make good babies.”

“Thanks, but it’s all my wife, Carmen. She is the sexiest woman alive and everyday I’m thankful she has stuck with me.”

“Seems like you’re both lucky.”

Billy titled his head as a thoughtful expression flashed across his face. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We are both lucky.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Linda giving me the stare down. Nerves jittered in my stomach. She had the temper of mount Olympus if you got on her bad side. I looked back at Billy. “Can you prepare me a tray of shots? Let’s do fuzzy nipples, Jell-O shots, and lemon drops.”

“You got it.”

With quick efficiency, he completed my order. The rainbow colored alcohol looked like a hangover waiting to happen. These men didn’t care though. All they cared about was indulging in a night away from their responsibilities. Wives, kids, and bills were forgotten as a pleasant buzz consumed them. Number one reason why alcohol or drugs weren’t my thing. My mom attempted to forget until the day she died. It was a slippery slope, forgetting.

“Thanks,” I said to Billy.

“No problem. Be safe out there.”

“Always am.”

I hoisted the tray above my head and stretched my face into a coy smile. Here goes nothing. As soon as I stepped into the lounge area, men’s gazes churned with approval. Their eyes traveled over my body as if I was a feast they wanted to devour. Shoving away my disgust, I concentrated on the end result. A fat pocket overflowing with tips. A gentleman surrounded by five others waved a wad of cash at me.

“Good evening. What is your poison tonight?” I purred.

The head honcho with the cash shoved five twenties into my apron. “Whatever you got. We want it all.” He slapped his friend next to him on the back. “My old roommate is getting married next week.”

“Congrats. She is a lucky woman.”

I placed twelve shots on the wooden table. They grabbed them with eager hands and downed the shots in a single gulp. Fingers closed around my wrist as I turned to leave.

The head honcho’s eyes leered at my cleavage. “Would you like to make our evening a little more fun?”

When pig’s fly was what I wanted to say but instead I said, “What do you have in mind, handsome?”

“Body shots.”

Body shots were my least favorite part about this job. Having men’s mouths on your body was repulsive. Be that as it may, Linda’s number one rule was to ensure the customer was happy. Any sexual favors were off limits but everything else was fair game.

I forced a weak nod. “You got it.”

The next three minutes were a blur of degrading myself. The men took shots out of my cleavage, hooting and hollering. Their lips left a permanent stain on my skin and all I wanted to do was dive into a pool of chlorine.

The man of the hour stared at me unsteadily. “Thanks, sweetheart. You’re a doll.” He lowered his voice. “Maybe after this, me and you can take a ride to booty town.”

“I don’t think your fiancée would appreciate that.”

“She’ll never find out.”

I mentally took back what I mentioned earlier. This guy’s future wife wasn’t lucky, not by a long shot. I bet my left eyetooth their marriage wouldn’t last more than two years. It never does when your husband can’t keep his dick in his pants. Without saying anything, I swept the tray off the table. Fifteen minutes down, six more hours to go. Sidling up to the bar, Billy glanced up from his order and eyed the empty tray.

“Damn girl. That didn’t take long. Same thing?”

Linda appeared, as I was about to respond. Her stick-straight bob hit her chin in a hairstyle very few could pull off. A pinstripe suit hugged her curve-free body while smoky eye makeup highlighted her blue eyes.

“You’re wanted in the VIP room,” she said.

“Which one?”

“Vegas.”

“Is there anything in particular they are requesting?” I wondered.

“A chilled bottle of Krug Brut Vintage and a round of vodka.” She glanced at Billy. “You got that?”

“Got it, Boss.”

Her severe stare turned my stomach into knots. “Don’t fuck this up. They are important clients. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” I croaked.

Linda turned on her heels and walked in the direction of her office. Once my tray was refilled, I took a calming breath.

“You got this,” Billy encouraged.

“I hope so.”

The Vegas room was in the back of the gentleman’s club through a discreet entrance. Red tinted lights illuminated my path. The words, ‘knock for pleasure,’ were written on the door. I turned the knob with trepid anticipation. Smoke hung in the air like a veil, burning my lungs and eyes. What the hell were they smoking in here? On the other side of the room, one of Rogue’s premier dancers was contorting her body around a pole. Nipple tassels swung in rhythm with her movements. I glided toward the red pleather booth where a large crowd was situated. Men and woman of varying ages dressed in shades of black, cream, and brown looked up at my arrival. Their sophisticated auras were a shock against the tackiness of the room. They regarded me with disdain as if I was no better than a used heroin needle. How lovely. On the bright side, they won’t ask me to do body shots in fear of catching cooties.

“Did somebody order some shots?” I oozed enough peppiness in my tone to kill a pack of cheerleaders. “Or how bout some champagne?”

Nothing. I was met with blank stares. Linda told me not to fuck this up and guess what? I was. It wasn’t my fault that these customers were snobby and frigid. They needed to lighten up or go to a different venue.

“I did. I ordered the round of shots,” a voice said behind me.

My back went rigid. Even after spending less than two minutes together, I would recognize that voice anywhere. Regardless, I wished to the cruel gods above to prove otherwise.

A girl from the crowd spoke. “Why did you do that, Andrew? It’s probably shitty vodka.”

Andrew. There were a million and one Andrews in this world but only one had a voice that promised sex. His gaze could be felt on the underside of my legs, roaming to the small apex of my back. Warmth spread between my thighs.

“So? Vodka is meant to get you drunk. Who the fuck cares if it is expensive or not?” Andrew said, irate.

The girl rolled her eyes while a smirk played out on her lips. “You’re such a white trash boy at heart. I love it.”

Ignoring her backhanded compliment, his presence grew closer until I grew dizzy with his scent. “Let me help you.” Andrew’s lips brushed my ear as he came around. “This tray must be heavy.”

“It’s fine,” I lied.

When our gazes locked, recognition sparked in his eyes followed by bewilderment. Bewilderment was understandable. This morning I was a barista in need of saving and thoroughly clothed. What wasn’t understandable was the disapproval radiating from every pore of his body. Fuck Andrew and the mighty horse he rode on. Half the population couldn’t afford to do passion projects. Some of us needed to actually make a living.

I slammed the tray onto to the table. “Enjoy.”

With as much dignity as I could muster, my five-inch heels carried me out of the VIP room. I blinked away tears because Andrew wasn’t worth them. He did exactly what I feared he would do. Look upon me like his friends did. Weird how Andrew didn’t give a shit what I did for living when he was admiring my backside.

“I’m going to take a break,” I said to Billy.

“Ok be back in twenty.”

The brick wall scratched my skin as I slid into a crouching position. The alleyway behind the gentleman club was our break room. It wasn’t the cleanest environment. Broken beer bottles littered the ground along with the occasional used condom. That said fresh air felt amazing after being cooped up in that windowless box. I slipped a piece of razzle-berry gum into my mouth. It was the only thing stopping me from wanting a cigarette. I’d quit two years ago but when something upset me, I craved hard for that sweet buzz. What Andrew thought wasn’t going to be my downfall. I’d met the guy twelve hours ago, why did I care so much? Yes, being a shot girl didn’t garner respect like a doctor would. However, the girls who were employed at Rogue weren’t working there because it was their dream job. They were working there because life knocked them into a hole and they were trying to claw their way out. Honey, aka Quincy, had a one-year old daughter with special needs. Her husband walked out on them as soon as he realized his daughter wasn’t “normal.” Honey turned to stripping to pay for her daughter’s care. Candy’s, aka Carly’s, mother drained her college account and ran off with a man named Bobby Joe. Working the night shift at Rogue allowed Candy to take classes at the local community college. She had a year left until she could apply for nursing programs. These women were incredible human beings. How dare anyone snubs their noses at them or me?

“Can you get me a cup of tea, Jives?” I mocked in a British accent. “Just a dash of cream and two sugars.”

“I can’t get you tea but I can get you a bottle of water.”

A startled gasp left my lips as I scrambled to my feet. Andrew stepped out of the shadows and into the warm glow of a streetlight.

My pulse raced. “What are you doing out here?”

“I want to apologize.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t an question.”

Eyes narrowed, I marched to where he stood and it was only then it dawned on me how tall he was. Andrew was a giant compared to my five-foot stature. I poked his rock hard chest.

“I don’t take apologies from self-important assholes.”

He cradled my finger against his t-shirt and grinned. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Fuck you.” Reeling my foot back, I kicked him in the shin, hard. He dropped my finger and cursed. “I’m not cute. You’re an asshole and there is nothing else left to say.”

Andrew clutched his leg, obviously in pain. I should have felt bad but I couldn’t muster an ounce of remorse. As I was about to turn the knob to go back into the club, he yelled my name. The desperation in his voice made me turn around.

“What time do you get off?” Andrew asked.

“Two a.m.”

“Awesome. I’ll see you then.”

Andrew hobbled off down the alleyway, leaving me dumbfounded. It was an emotion I was beginning to associate with Andrew. He was truly an enigma.

“One for the road?” Billy handed me a shot glass filled with amber liquid.

“Thanks.”

After the day I had, one shot would barely take off the edge. In the past eighteen hours or so, men had groped, mauled and generally treated me like scum. I was seriously considering becoming a lesbian for real this time. The shot didn’t taste like whiskey. It tasted like ginger ale.

When I glanced at Billy for an explanation, he gave me a fatherly smile. “You really thought I was going to let you drink and drive?”

“Your son is turning you into a softy.”

“And I’m a better man because of it.”

I wished my mom had the same outlook when she had me. Instead she often used the word “leech” to describe my relationship to her, which was ironic. She was the biggest leech in the entire universe; sucking men’s wallets dry since 1989. I belted my trench coat and pulled my hair into a ponytail.

Billy took away the shot glass, replacing it with a can of mace. “I would offer you a ride if my house wasn’t on the opposite side of town but since it is, use this if need be.”

I wasn’t an idiot. My teenage years had been predominantly spent on the streets. Hence, why I kept a Taser named Bo stashed in my jacket pocket 24/7. Bo kept my virginity in tact until I was nineteen and saved me from countless other hairy situations. Still, it was nice somebody had my back.

“Aw. What every girl wants.” I grabbed the can of mace and added it to my collection. “It’s prettier than flowers.”

“Go home, wiseass, and get some sleep.”

Laughing, I waved goodbye. I’d sold my car to pay off my mom’s funeral cost so my legs were my only mode of transportation. To save myself a round of blisters, I changed into a pair of flats. Cold air caressed the top of my bare feet as I stepped outside.

“Why can’t it be summer again?” I mumbled.

A black SUV screeched to a halt alongside the curb. Grabbing the Taser in my pocket, I watched on high alert. Second later, the passenger door opened and opera music cut through the silent night. Andrew’s Italian loafers came into view. He had changed into a casual business shirt with the first button popped open. Grey slacks that matched his eyes hugged his toned thighs. The bastard looked as if he belonged in the pages of a J.Crew magazine.

My hands went to my hips. “Are you serious? Really? I kicked you in the shin and called you an asshole, Andrew. How much clearer can I get?”

“I may be an asshole but I am a gentleman as well.”

“Those two don’t go hand in hand.”

“They do.”

A bone-chilling breeze snaked into my thin coat and I shivered. Noticing, Andrew draped his cashmere jacket over my shoulders, adding another layer of warmth. His generosity didn’t prove anything.

“I’m here to drive you home,” Andrew stated. “I don’t like the idea of you walking alone at two a.m.”

Having two concerned males in my life was a first. “I’m surprised you care. Considering I am underneath your caliber.”

“Those people are not my friends. They are elite members of the art world I have to rub elbows with. Don’t pay them any mind.”

“Don’t slough off the blame entirely on them. You are just as snobby. Maybe even more so because you try to hide it.”

Andrew huffed. “I’m nothing like them.”

“When you saw me in that VIP room, you practically threw up with disappointment.”

He invaded my personal bubble, stealing the air from my lungs. He grabbed the lapels of the coat and tugged me against his body. “You were mistaken. That wasn’t disappointment you saw. It was a desire to protect you from those lecherous men.”

“I’m not one of your projects, Andrew. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was five years old. I don’t need protection.”

His gaze softened. “You’re right, you don’t, but it must be exhausting to always be on guard.”

On guard? Please, that was putting it mildly. I had an impenetrable barbed wire fence wrapped around my heart. The only person that had gotten through was Monica and it took her five years. Nonetheless, my untrusting nature was a second skin. Andrew wasn’t going to change that.

“Like I said, I’m not one of your projects. This is who I am and if you don’t like it, you can get back into your car and drive home to your McMansion.”

Regret soured on the tip of my tongue as Andrew released his clutch on the cashmere coat. An elusive expression flashed over his face. I wished I were somebody different. Somebody who wasn’t hardened by the circumstances handed to me, because then, maybe Andrew and I would have had a fighting chance.

“First of all, I don’t have a McMansion,” Andrew began. “Secondly, your feisty stubbornness is what I find most attractive about you; and thirdly, I don’t want to change a hair on your head. I just want to get to know you. Capisci?”

The earnestness shining in his eyes propelled my chin to dip forward. “Yes.”

“Good.” Andrew set his hand on my lower back and led me to the SUV. “Now let me take you home.”

My apartment building was situated next to a vacant lot where weeds grew as tall as trees and became a homeless camp once darkness descended. A faded orange awning over the front door clung to its rusty hooks.

Andrew peered out of the window. “Is this where you live?”

“Is that fear I hear in your voice?”

Straightening his shoulders, he unlocked the car door and hopped out. Following his lead, I exited the car and stood on the sidewalk next to him. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, unsure on how to end this night. A handshake would be too proper, a kiss on the cheek would be too intimate, and a fist bump would be downright awkward. What was left?

“I’ll walk you to your apartment,” Andrew said.

Punching in the code, the front door buzzed opened. The hallway flickered with two burned out bulbs and a third on its last leg. Shadows danced on the walls.

Compelled to defend the dire state of my building, I spoke. “My landlord left town.”

“When?”

“Two months ago.” Last year’s Christmas lights hung from my door. I smiled at Andrew. “This is it.”

He went in for a hug while I stuck out my hand. We laughed awkwardly while another attempt proved to be just as unsuccessful.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you at your art show.” Inserting my key into the lock, the knob turned easily. As if it was already unlocked. Fear froze in my veins. “What the hell?”

“What’s wrong?”

Occasionally, Monica paid me a visit while I worked to raid my fridge but unless she got off early, it couldn’t have been her that left my door unlocked. The rational part of me screamed to call the police. My gut told me otherwise. I went with my gut and locked eyes with Andrew.

“You said you played a lot of hand to hand combat games?”

Andrew’s left eyebrow quirked. “Yeah. What’s going on?”

I beckoned him to come away from the door. I didn’t want whoever was in my apartment to hear our plan. The element of surprise was crucial.

“My apartment is unlocked and it wasn’t me who left it that way.” Before he could react, I plunged on. “I’m going to check it out. Will you play backup?”

“I’m taller than you and stronger. You can play backup.” I opened my mouth to protest when he cut me off with a stern look. “Don’t fight me on this, Haven.”

“Whatever. Take this pepper spray.”

His fingers closed around the can. “Ready?”

“Let’s do this.”

Andrew swiped me behind him as we entered my pitch-black apartment. The neon glow from the sign of the Sex Shop across the street was our only source of light. My pulse thrummed in my ears. Steadily but quietly we made our way into my living room. Andrew came to a jerking halt and I nearly ran into him.

“Whomever the fuck you are, you better have a good excuse,” he boomed while lifting the pepper spray in front of him.

Sneaking a peek, I could see a young Asian girl had her hands lifted in the air. Her bleach blonde hair with faded pink highlights was teased at the roots. An off the shoulder sweatshirt hid the cigarette burns on her back given to her by her father. I knew this because at night when we couldn’t sleep, we would compare scars to see who was more broken. She would always win. Nobody was more broken than her. I winced at the sight of her sunken in cheekbones and hollow eyes. When we’d last seen each other six months ago she seemed to be getting her life in order. What happened?

I touched Andrew’s arm. “It’s fine. She’s my sister.”

He glanced between us, confused at how I had an Asian sister when I was as white as a bed sheet. Everybody was until I clarified.

“Stepsister. Her dad was my mom’s second husband.”

“Second and third husband,” Sumiko corrected.

“Right.”

Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose and lowered the pepper spray. “I’m beyond words right now.”

“It’s better that way. My family history is messed up and lengthy,” I responded. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Sumiko waited until he was out of earshot to speak but once she did, I wished she’d never stopped by. “Your mom owes Big Ted Money. ”

“My mom’s dead.”

“Duh! Really nice of you to attend her funeral by the way.”

Sinking into the couch cushions, I propped my feet on the coffee table. “I’m not in the mood for a guilt trip.”

Sumiko searched my face and whatever she saw made her drop the subject. Thank Jesus. While she understood messed up family dynamics better than anyone, there was this thing called honor Sumiko had I didn’t. She sat next to me and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

“Big Ted says your mom owes him twelve hundred dollars. Supposedly, she went on a bender,” Sumiko said.

“You can tell Big Ted to shove it up his ass. That bender is what killed her.”

“You don’t understand, Haven. He said he would kill you—and me,” she added quietly.

Big Ted, my mom’s drug dealer, specialized in empty threats so it was hard to take Sumiko seriously.

“That’s not going to happen. Big Ted is a giant gangsta teddy bear that doesn’t know how to work a gun, let alone shoot one. Besides, since when are you his messenger?”

Sumiko’s silence spoke volumes. She wasn’t worried about him killing her; she was worried about him cutting off her supply. My throat went dry as revulsion rolled.

She avoided my gaze as I gripped her upper arm. “You were clean for the past three years! Why?”

Sumiko stood and in the red neon glow, I noticed her dry cracked lips. They were the lips of a crack addict. This was bad, really bad. Sumiko had popped pills like candy when we were teenagers but her father sent her to rehab. Yes, the same father that abused her. Their relationship was a complicated web of lies and manipulation. When Sumiko left rehab, she’d wiped the slate clean.

I buried my head into my hands. “You were doing so well.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am.”

Another family member lost to the abuse of drugs. There were countless opportunities during my childhood to fall to the same fate. However, I never wanted to end up like my mother. A life revolving around drugs wasn’t a life at all. The front door slammed shut. Lifting my face, Sumiko was no longer in my living room. An awful gut wrenching sense of mistrust propelled me to my feet. In the past, the feeling would be unjustified. While Sumiko and I weren’t blood sisters, a deep bond had formed in the years we were family. Unfortunately family didn’t mean anything when crack was concerned. Entering my bedroom, everything appeared exactly how I left it until I reached my bed. The sheets were un-tucked at the corners. With trepidation, I lifted my mattress and stuck my hand underneath. Nothing.

“No, no,” I cried. “No, please no!”

Panic coursed through my veins as I did another sweep. My five hundred dollars was gone. Tears wet my cheeks. I flung a framed picture of Sumiko and I against the wall. Glass exploded in the air, littering the ground. The metallic smell of blood scented the air as I sunk to my knees. Sumiko not only stole my money, she stole my dream.