Trashy Page 2

  It wasn’t a good feeling, to know I’d done so many things wrong, to think of myself as a weak and naïve person.

  Not anymore.

  I might have made a couple wrong turns on the road of life, but I was pulling a u-ey and heading in the direction I really wanted to go.

  I had this apartment with Harlow, a place of our own. It was in a good complex, the neighbors weren’t drug addicts, and the streets weren’t full of people looking to score. Harlow was a real friend, not just someone who wanted something.

  I might still be a stripper, but the truth was I wouldn’t be able to make the kind of money I made on a nightly basis doing anything else. I wasn’t going to have to strip forever. Soon, I would have more than enough money saved for the program at the technical college I’d been researching. Soon, the only man who would see me without my clothes would be a man I would choose.

  Not that I was going to be choosing any man in the next century.

  I needed a man like I needed a third nipple.

  Which was not at all.

  I turned around, letting the full spray of the water hit my shoulders and chest. It felt good, like a gentle warm massage, and I groaned, letting the water pound away some of the soreness in my muscles.

  I’d been working some extra shifts at the club, dancing and hefting trays of drinks more often. Lately, I felt this inner sense of urgency, something inside whispering that I needed to move on, that it was time for a change.

  But before I could change, I needed enough money to pay for at least a couple semesters at school. I was getting there, and soon I would be able to quit.

  A little pang of sadness hit me as I reached for my loofah and body wash. True, I didn’t like stripping. And true, I didn’t want or need a man.

  What about Adam? the naughty voice inside me taunted.

  I might have a negative stance on getting involved with men these days, but it seemed he was the exception to that rule. However, just because I might have a small crush on him didn’t mean I had to act on it.

  Adam was the owner of the Mad Hatter, and that made him my boss. And him being my boss wasn’t the only reason he was off-limits. I had several reasons for that.

  But it wasn’t those reasons that were clouding my mind right now. No, what was clouding my thoughts was the image of his wide shoulders filling out a dress shirt. The way he spoke gruffly to everyone, trying to hide the soft spot I knew he had just beneath his ribs.

  I dragged the loofah down over my hip and across my thigh, imagining what it would be like for him to touch me there. For one long moment, I let myself wonder if his fingers would glide over my skin as readily as this soap.

  I wasn’t a virgin. And yeah, I took my clothes off for money, but locked away in my most private depths was a little piece of the girl I was in high school. The innocent girl who wanted to feel treasured. Who wanted to feel like she was someone’s entire world.

  Yeah, I knew it was just a schoolgirl’s dream.

  But it didn’t stop me from occasionally letting that part of me out and imagining what it would be like in the arms of a man who loved me more than anything.

  That man never used to have a face. He was more of a feeling, more of a dream than anything. But slowly that started to change. Slowly, the man I sometimes longed for became a little clearer in my head.

  Sometimes he looked just like Adam.

  My eyes shot open and I pulled the loofah away from my body. My skin tingled, and I abruptly turned the water to a shockingly cold temp. I was not going to think about Adam while I washed.

  Totally disgusted with myself, I shut off the water and grabbed a towel. My long, deep-brown (the richness in the color courtesy of a box) hair was stick straight no matter how I blow-dried it, so after combing it out, I blasted it with the heat until it hung down my back with the sleekness most women had to pay for with products and blow-outs.

  I ran a small flat iron over the straight cut of bangs that were just shy of falling into my eyes and pulled on my panties and a light colored cotton dress. Usually, I wore yoga pants and a T-shirt to work, but it was just too hot today.

  I put on the bare minimum of makeup (I would just add more for the stage at work), popped in my violet-colored contacts, and left the bathroom.

  Harlow was in the kitchen when I came out, tossing my duffle bag on the end of the sofa. “Hey,” I said. “How was work?”

  Harlow worked harder than most people I knew. She was determined to achieve her goals no matter how much she had to try. I really admired that about her, and she inspired me to go after what I really wanted in life too.

  Harlow shrugged. “It’s a job.” She made a face, and I laughed.

  “The snow cone cart is going to be closing up for the season soon, isn’t it?” I asked. She was a snow cone vendor at Broadway at the Beach in addition to waiting tables at the Mad Hatter. She started out stripping, but she hated it, and Adam went against his usual policy that all the girls strip and wait tables and let her stay on as a waitress.

  She nodded. “Yeah, in just a couple weeks, at the end of October.”

  October might seem late for the season, but here in Myrtle Beach, it was still warm and tourists were still vacationing.

  “Are you going to look for something else?” I asked.

  “I don’t know yet. With my class schedule, I don’t know if I will have time.”

  Yet another reason I was sticking with stripping. I made a lot of money and the hours were at night, so when I did go to college, I could do both and not have to worry about juggling. I would be sleep-deprived, but it was a small price to pay for bettering my life.

  My cell began to ring on the counter. I glanced at it dubiously, making no move to answer it.

  “That thing has rung three times since I’ve been home,” Harlow said.

  “Sorry.” I grabbed it, hit IGNORE, and switched it to vibrate.

  “Is he bothering you again, Roxie?” she asked, propping her hip against the counter and turning her full gaze on me.

  “He’s been trying.” I admitted.

  I hated talking about Craig. It made me feel like such an idiot, an idiot for letting someone like him dupe me. An idiot for not being strong enough to resist his charm.

  “But I’ve been ignoring him,” I added.

  “Have you seen him?” Harlow asked, concerned.

  “Not since that night at the club.”

  Several months ago, Craig came into the Mad Hatter, pissed at me because the cops hauled him in for questioning after I was attacked here at home and thought he was responsible. Why he was surprised I would point my finger at him was beyond me. He wasn’t nice and he certainly wasn’t above using physical force.

  ‘Course, I don’t think he was surprised. I think he was just pissed I would actually get him in trouble. Too bad it hadn’t been him. I would have loved pressing charges against him and getting him out of my life for good.

  The thought caused a funny feeling to erupt deep in my middle. I shoved it away. I knew what it was, and I hated it.

  “Do you think he’s going to start coming around?” Harlow asked, cutting off my thoughts.

  “I don’t think so.” I hedged. I knew it was only a matter of time. I’d been in this pattern with Craig before. What he didn’t know was that I was hell-bent on not repeating my past mistakes.

  “Well, at least we know he won’t be coming into the Mad Hatter.” Harlow pushed away from the counter and walked out into the living room. “Adam will kick his ass.”

  Adam was not a fan of Craig. A fact he made perfectly clear when Craig showed up at the Mad Hatter and Adam beat him up. The beatdown actually started an all-out brawl in the middle of the club.

  I hadn’t seen Craig since.

  But I knew he was there. Watching. Waiting. Stalking.

  He always was.

  It made it hard to breathe.

  “I was going to stay at Cam’s tonight,” Harlow said, stepping toward her bedroom. “But I’ll c
all him and tell him to stay here instead.”

  “No,” I said. “There’s no reason.”

  Harlow spun and gave a pointed stare at my cell. I sighed. “He just keeps calling to try and get under my skin. It isn’t working. Not this time. It’s over. For good. Nothing he can say will change my mind.”

  “I’m not worried about you going back to him, Rox,” Harlow said. “I’m worried what he’s going to do when he realizes it.”

  My stomach turned queasy, but I swallowed down the bile threatening to come up. “He isn’t going to do anything. Go to Cam’s. Enjoy him. He’s one of the good ones. There aren’t many of them left.”

  “If you change your mind, you’ll call me?” Harlow asked.

  I loved that she didn’t press. She didn’t try to mother me. I had a mother. I didn’t need another one. “I’ll call.”

  She nodded and disappeared into her room. I grabbed my duffle and headed for the door. My eyes instantly scanned the parking lot as soon as I stepped outside.

  Paranoia was sticky, just like the storm-laden air. It clung to me with persistence, never allowing me any peace. When I saw nothing out of the ordinary, I made my way to my used Mazda MX-6 and locked the door as soon as I got inside.

  He isn’t going to do anything. My own words haunted me.

  Because deep down, I knew they weren’t true.

  2

  Adam

  Dense, sun-warmed sand gave way under the pounding of my running shoes as I jogged along the beach. It was still early in the day, but it was already hot. The air was muggy, and judging by the dark clouds forming over the water, it was probably going to rain at some point today.

  If it weren’t for the heavy wind blowing off the water, I’d be kicking myself for the punishing pace I had set for myself. But I wanted to get my run in before the rain started falling. The clouds were still far offshore, so I knew I had a while, but it was as good a reason as any to push it hard.

  At least if I used this excuse, I wouldn’t have to think about the other.

  I ran every morning, had been running for so many years it was second nature to me. I was naturally athletic, even if being that way was a lot more work than it used to be. I wasn’t going to let that part of myself go. A lot of other things had come and gone in my life, including some of that athleticism, but I was going to hold on to what I could.

  My building came into view and I slowed, my body giving a sigh of relief. The familiar twinge of pain in my knee greeted me, but I ignored it. It would probably bother me the rest of the day, and I might even regret the hard workout.

  No. Scratch that.

  Regrets were for pansies. I was not a pansy. And regretting anything was a waste of time.

  After I did some pull-ups and upper body work, I took a shower and got dressed in my usual button-up dress shirt and dark-colored dress pants. Even though I owned a strip club, I still dressed nice. Strip club or not, the Mad Hatter was my business and I was going to treat it as such. Wearing jeans and T-shirts to work (even if they were comfortable) didn’t give off the impression I wanted to.

  I dealt with suppliers, delivery guys, dancers, customers, etc. on a daily basis. I wanted them all to know I was in charge. Sure, most of that was portrayed through attitude, work ethic, and drive, but I also needed to look the part.

  I grinned ruefully at myself for my thoughts. Several years ago, I never would have dreamed this would be my life.

  I glanced at the clock. It was still fairly early in the day, so I figured I’d have time to grab some coffee and food on the way into the club. I’d still make it in plenty of time for the phone call I was expecting.

  The call was of a more personal nature, and one it seemed like I’d been waiting on for a while. Today was finally the day. The day I would officially be free.

  Well, assuming there were no issues that popped up last minute.

  God, I hoped not. I was ready to just move on.

  And I knew exactly in what direction I wanted to go.

  3

  Roxie

  As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, the sky opened up and rain began pelting my car. And then my gas light came on.

  Of course I would need gas in the middle of this monsoon!

  I took my chances and drove closer to the Mad Hatter, thinking maybe I would get lucky and the rain would slow down.

  It didn’t.

  So I ended up driving the entire way in the pouring rain, biting my nails and glancing at the gas gauge like every other second. When I got to work, I was sneaking behind the bar and taking a shot. Not that Adam would likely care.

  I pulled off the main road and into the lot of the gas station, lucky enough to get a spot at one of the tanks in the center of the roof that covered the pumping area. The rain was thunderous when I climbed out of my old Mazda. After I set it to pumping, I dashed back into the car so I didn’t have to stand outside, but the humidity and loudness of the rain was almost intolerable.

  When the tank was full, I hopped out and closed the gas cap. A quick glance around told me no one was waiting for my spot so I left my car there and dashed inside to pay. Inside, the smell of coffee captivated me, totally stealing my attention and making my mouth water. Clearly, my taste buds didn’t care where the coffee came from so long as it was fresh.

  Taking a sharp turn, I yanked a paper cup out of the dispenser and poured it almost full with fresh brew. Then I dumped in about five little cups of vanilla-flavored creamer and gave it a stir. I liked a little coffee with my creamer. Once it was good and mixed I snapped on a black lid, snagged a roll of SweeTarts off a nearby rack, and got in line.

  What little sun was allowed to peak through the storm clouds had started to set as I made my way underneath the section of cover back toward my car. I didn’t make it very far before a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “Some things never change.”

  My steps faltered and nervous energy skittered along every single nerve ending in my body. Suddenly, I felt as if I’d just run a marathon, and I had to gasp for breath. Dread was also present. But underneath it all, way down beneath all the many other emotions, was a little bit of eagerness.

  I hated it.

  I hated that he could make me feel all that. Almost every last feeling he erupted in me was terrible. It hurt. Like physical pain. But then there was this inkling, this tiny little shiver of memory, of what it was like when we first met.

  It was like I couldn’t shake him.

  My fingers tightened around the cup, the heat like a lifeline to sanity. To reality. Slowly, I pivoted around to look at Craig.

  “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” I replied. He glanced at the coffee and candy in my hand and smirked.

  Yeah, I would probably always love coffee and SweeTarts, but I wouldn’t always love him.

  “How ya been?” he asked like there wasn’t all this awful history between us. Like I wasn’t going to wear the scars of our relationship forever. He talked almost like we were friends, like the last time I saw him he didn’t hurl ugly words and accusations at me. Like he didn’t threaten me. Like Adam didn’t beat his ass and then he was led away in handcuffs.

  I was once duped by that tone of voice. By the way his broad shoulders, lean waist, and baby blues would lean casually against the side of his car. I was totally blinded by the fluttery feeling I got inside my center when he smiled and his wavy dark hair fell into his eyes.

  But I knew better now.

  I knew bad things could come wrapped in pretty packages.

  I knew sometimes charm was just a mask for something darker.

  “Better now that you aren’t around,” I replied, keeping my tone almost nonchalant. The last thing on earth I wanted was for him to see—to even suspect—that he still got to me in any way, shape, or form.

  Craig was good at manipulating me.

  “I’ve missed you, baby.” He gave no indication he heard my insult. But he had. And
it was something I would pay for later if I fell into his sticky trap.

  “Surely I’m replaceable,” I said and started to turn away. I wasn’t the only woman to ever fall for his looks and charm. He’d cheated on me likely from the very beginning. I’d just been too stupid to realize it until I was in way too deep.

  I felt his fingers curl around the inside of my elbow just as a loud boom of thunder echoed overhead. The rain was still pelting the cover overhead, and when the wind blew, the sheets of rain slanted and reached for us. My flats were already soaked.

  I glanced down to where he held me gently. “Let go.”

  He did immediately. That was just another one of his ploys. He wanted me to think I was in control, that he would back off when I wanted.

  He was a good liar.

  “How long you gonna be mad at me, Roxie?” he asked, his voice dipping low. I could feel the heat off his body because he stood so close. Combined with the heat from the air, it was almost suffocating.

  “I’m not mad at you, Craig. I’m not anything at all with you.” I kept my voice even, bored.

  “You’re different,” he said, recoiling from my words.

  I lifted my eyes to his, getting ready for the way he affected me. “I’m not the same seventeen-year-old you once knew. Stop calling me. Stop following me,” I said, knowing full well that us “running into” each other was not coincidence. “We’re done.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “This time I mean it.” I walked away without a backward glance. I kept my pace steady, my strides long. If I moved quickly, it was because of the rain, not because I was trying to put distance between us.

  My insides were shaking, but I knew I handled that damn well. I was proud of myself. I should be. This time he knew I was serious. He felt the difference behind my words. I saw it in his eyes and I read it off his body. He hadn’t expected me to rebuke him this way.

  Good.

  I unlocked my car and reached for the handle, craving the solitude of the interior. Before I could pull the door open, a rough hand covered mine. He used his body to pin me against the wet metal, his front pressing into my back. He used all his weight, including the eighty pounds he outweighed me by, to keep me from sliding out from beneath him. I had to push back against him, further enhancing our closeness to keep the coffee from being squished against me and the window. I was already wet from the rain; I didn’t need to wear my coffee too.