Stripped (18 page)

He pauses, and then says, "I need to know if these two are fired, boss. If you let them go, we have scheduling issues." Bruce lingers, waiting for an answer. I glance at Jon over my shoulder, not able to meet his eyes.

Jon is sitting on top of his desk, legs dangling off the side, leaning over with his head in his hands. He doesn't look up. "Keep both of them, but no more warnings. If it happens again, with any of the girls, they're fired. Start to make a backup list of on-call dancers. Work them into the schedule so we have extra staff when we're shorthanded or someone calls in sick."

Bruce nods and leaves without another word. I find myself staring at Jon, wondering who he really is. I so much want the boy I knew to still be inside of him, but he was going to fuck Gretchen. Tucking my chin, I hurry past him. Maybe he is the boy I knew and maybe that's why I should stay away from him. Jon has no idea how badly he hurt me, or why I told the reporters who he was that summer in Mississippi. He doesn't know, and I'll never tell him.

As I reach for the door, he says, "I'm sorry."

I glance back at him. "For what?"

"I shouldn't have taken that from you. It wasn't—" He looks up at me from under thick lashes. "I know how you felt about things and I shouldn't have taken that kiss. I'm sorry, Cassie. It won't happen again."

I want to tell him, but I can't. He still hates me for what I did. I force a smile and look away. "Much more was taken from me than that. Besides, I gave it to you." I duck out the door before I can say more.

CHAPTER 29

JONATHAN

I avoid the club for the next few days because I can't stand the thought of seeing her there. My plan got fucked up the moment I made it. I didn't think about guys hanging on Cassie and saying they wanted to bend her over and have a good time. I didn't think about how I'd have to stand there and smile, like a fucking jackass, while they said these things about all the women working there. So, I've been going in during the day when Cassie doesn't work and going over things with Bruce. It's funny how fast the guy has my back. I doubled his salary, so maybe his reaction was predictable, but thank God for small wonders. I need something predictable right now.

"Why'd you buy a strip club?" Trystan is hanging upside down off the side of a club chair. His hair stands on end, sweeping against the dark carpet as he eyes the empty stage. It's early, and as soon as he heard what I did, Trystan came over to smack me in the head. "It looks better upside down, man."

I throw a phone book at him. It lands on his lap with a thud. Trystan shoots me a look and rights himself in the chair. "Seriously, Jon—this place is a fucking hole, your mother is going to kill you, and I can't hang out here. It'll totally ruin my reputation."

"What reputation?"

"That women come to me. Guys that dick around in strip clubs don't have women hanging off of them. Come on, Jon, what's this about? Did that asswipe get to you the other night? You didn't have to buy the club to get his ass fired. You know that right?"

I'm sitting at a nasty old desk, looking through an endless mountain of paper. The previous owner didn't believe in filing cabinets. I've been ignoring Trystan, not looking up, until he makes me by smacking the papers out of my hands. "What the hell is wrong with you? I need to go through this stuff and I don't have much time."

Trystan slams his hands on my desk and leans in. "Why?" A necklace slips out from the neck of his shirt. It's a silver band—a ring—dangling, spinning on its chain.

"Because I have other things to do and I can't be here—"

"Why?"

"Because!"

Trystan straightens and tucks the ring away so it can't be seen. He slips his hands into his pockets and turns, pacing the floor. A huge smile spreads across his face like he understands. "Oh, because. Yeah, that's a great explanation for acting like a crazy bastard." While he speaks, Trystan's index finger taps his chin, and his eyes flash like he knows damn well why I bought this place. The smirk falls off his mouth. Leaning against the wall, he folds his arms over his chest, and doesn't look at me. Long strands of dark hair block his face when he asks, "So, who is she?"

I stare at him. There's no point in denying it, he already knows something's up. I'm acting like a goddamn idiot, but I can't admit it. "No one, all right?"

"No one wouldn't make you act like this. You've been—shall we say, tense—since Peter's party, and I think I know why. That girl, the one he handed to you, the one you ran off with—she's the one that messed you up, isn't she?"

"Fuck, no. She's the one who patched me up." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Trystan is silent for a little bit. When he speaks he points out something I'd never thought about before. "You know why we're friends, right? Why we get along so well?" I glance at him, but Trystan's gaze doesn't meet mine. Instead he pushes off the wall and runs his hands through his hair. "There's no hiding what I lived through. The papers plastered it everywhere. Since then, I've found a few people who lived through their own hell, and it was always inflicted by someone else. You might not have said it, but there's something about people like us, Jon. We gravitate toward one another and try to protect each other."

I don't look at him. I know Trystan's been through the shitter and what his dad did to him. I don't disagree with him, although I have no idea what the hell he sees in me. I sound like a girl. I blink hard and look up at him. "You're like a brother to me, Trystan. You don't have to—"

"No, I think I do. You don't seem to realize what this girl means to you. She's seriously the one who put you back together?"

I nod and watch him as he sits on the edge of my desk. "Yeah, she was totally wrong for me." I smile, thinking about Cassie sitting at her Aunt's house and the way she smiled and danced around the place late at night when we were both too tired to sleep. "And yet..." I shrug, because there are no words—because she was and is the right woman for me. She always has been, which makes it hurt even more.

"You love her?"

The words hang there like a noose, waiting for me. It's always been waiting for me, and buying this place was like building the scaffolds so I can go hang myself. Rubbing my hands over my face, I say, "Trystan, she stabbed me in the back. It doesn't matter how I feel about her because I can never trust again, not after that."

"Then, why'd you buy this place?"

"To save her from a little agony. Her life was hard before. I can't imagine what it's turned into for her to step out onto that stage every night. Maybe she meant to hurt me, but I can't leave her here like this. I want to make sure she's safe, and see what kind of asshole she married that will let her walk in here every night." Grabbing a stack of papers, I slam them down on the desk and stand abruptly. I walk over to the window and look out into the dusty parking lot. This place is a dump and the thought of her being here is too much, but she's not mine to save. Cassie married someone else.

"Damn." Trystan pulls up one leg onto the desk and watches me for a second. I glance over my shoulder at him. "You're in love with the girl who got away—after she stabbed you in the back—who's married and works at a strip club. You're totally fucked. No wonder you've been acting like a madman." Trystan laughs, but it's not cruel. It's the laugher of the screwed.

"Yeah, no wonder."

CHAPTER 30

CASSIE

His kiss lingers long after it's gone. I'd always wondered what it would feel like to have Jon kiss me. God, I was so stupid when I met him. It's a wonder we got along at all. I think back and smile. Then I glance around at the basement apartment and dark paneling and I feel sick.

Grabbing a sweater, I shout to Beth, "I'm going for a walk."

"You're gonna get shot!"

"I'm fine. I'll be back in time for work. Don't leave without me." I'm out the door before she can reply or offer to come with me. I walk around to the side gate and when I look up I see the guy who gave me his inhaler.

Kam nods at me once, his dark eyes following me as I walk down the street. The park isn't too far from here. I suck in the cool air and let it fill my lungs until it feels like they're going to burst. Pulling my sweater tighter around me, I make my way into the little park and over to the swings. There's no one here right now. It's a bit too cool and damp to bring the toddlers out, and the older kids are still in school.

After wiping off the damp swing with my sleeve, I sit down. My head hangs between my shoulders as I study the way my shoes make lines in the clumpy sand. I wish I was able to fix my life, but wishing has never fixed anything. I can't divorce Mark without money, and it takes a lot more than I have. When I told my mom what happened, she didn't help me. She told me that I made this mess and I need to clean it up. As if I signed up to have a guy beat the shit out of me. Toby, my perfect older brother, agreed with her, and Dad's dead. There was no one to defend me, no one to offer me solace, or a place to rest my head when Mark tried to take it off my shoulders.

Things weren't bad at first. In the beginning, Mark was perfect. He didn't push me to do anything I didn't want to do. We'd stay up late and talk for hours, confessing our secrets. He made me happy. Mark didn't tell me that I was strange for wanting to wait to be with him until we were married. He held my hand and seemed content. Then came the wedding ring and when the honeymoon arrived, I was alone with him and Mark was a different man. The kind, patient person I fell in love with disappeared and I was left with someone else.

The first time we were together, I was so nervous that I couldn't do what he wanted. It was too much, too fast. I tried, but it hurt. I thought he'd let me stop, or slow down a little, but he didn't. His hand hit my face so hard that it left a mark. The next day when he was smiling at me over breakfast, I was too ashamed to tell anyone. I thought it was my fault.

Months passed and I was trapped. One time I tried to run away, but he found me. Mark showed up at work and got me fired. When I found out how much money I needed for a divorce, I didn't know what to do. Mark handled all the money. He didn't let me touch it, so I had nothing. He used my credit to buy things, he used my money, he used my body—he used me. It took me forever to figure out that he didn't love me.

I've never been so wrong about someone in my entire life, except maybe Jon. I never gave him a chance back then, and I regret it now. Seeing him again, tasting his lips like that, makes me realize how much I messed up. If I could take back what I did to him, I would.

A twig snaps, forcing my gaze to lift. I glance around for the source of the noise but there isn't anyone around. The park is empty, like it was before, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, so I smooth it with my hand and glance around. Leaves rustle in the breeze, before a gray bunny hops out from behind a trash can.

I smile to myself for being paranoid. I always think every out of place sound is Mark sneaking up on me, even though I haven't seen him in a while. I'd like to feel safe again, someday. Pushing off the swing, I head back.

Beth is already dressed in a soft track suit with her bag over her shoulder. She's standing at the kitchen counter, stuffing a sandwich into her mouth as fast as possible. "Hurry up," she sputters, spewing crumbs everywhere.

"Why? It's still early."

"New boss wants us there now. We're late."

"The new boss. Right."

____

On the ride to work, I'm too quiet and Beth notices. She glances over at me. "So, are you ever going to tell me what went down between you two?"

"There's not much to tell."

"Liar. Just spill it. You'll feel better and facing him won't suck so much."

"Confession has never worked like that for me. It's always turned around and bitten me on the ass."

"Well, then you're doing it wrong." Beth blares the horn at someone and then bobs and weaves through traffic like she's possessed.

Gripping the door handle, I push myself back into the seat. "You might want to slow down a little."

"We're late."

"Fine, I'll tell you. Just slow down."

Beth gives me a wicked grin and then we both laugh as she resumes a normal driving speed. "So spill. Did you do it with him? Scorned lovers, right?"

Smiling, I shake my head and look at my fingernails. "No, it wasn't like that. We were friends, really good friends. The scar on my neck," I point to it, dragging my finger along the mark, "I got it when I was with Jon. There was a bombing and he saved me. His back is as cut up as my neck. If he didn't throw himself on top of me, I would have died. Someone else did. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time." I don't look up at her. My lashes remain lowered, my gaze locked on my fingers.

"So, then what's up with you two?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

"Cass..."

I don't want to tell her. It sounds horrible, and saying it out loud makes it worse. But I find the words and tell my story. "Fine, I do know. He hates me. I sold him out. At the end of the summer we spent together, a reporter wanted to know some things about the Ferros and had noticed me hanging around Jon all summer. I talked to him. He ran a story, and Jon never spoke to me again." Pressing my lips into a thin line, I try not to think about it. I was so naïve.

"What'd you tell the reporter?"

"Does it matter? It was enough to ruin whatever relationship we had." I sigh and lean my head against the window, watching the cars zip by.

"I'm sorry, but I can't believe you acted maliciously. You're too fucking nice to everyone. Did the guy trick you or something?" I wish he did, but it's not the truth. I shake my head and don't offer anything else. "Come on Cassie, there's gotta be—"

"There is no reason. Jon trusted me and I stabbed him in the back, okay? End of story. So now you know. Leave it alone." My throat tightens as the memories come flooding back. I can see the reporter, almost hear his voice. Confidence was strewn across my face as I answered him, certain that I was doing the right thing. Then I see the look on Jon's face when he found out, the blank stare that screams he can't believe I'd ever do something like that to him. But, I did. His uncle tossed my ass off their property before I could say anything. They never found out what happened, or why I did it.