The Art of Sin (19 page)

     “Ten years ago, the house needed a hell of a lot of repairs and I didn’t have the cash to make those repairs,” Al slowly began. “I went to a bank to take out a loan against the equity I had in the house, but I didn’t qualify. When I mentioned it to Geoff, he made a few phone calls to some bankers he knew, but said I could not get the loan without a cosigner with good credit. He volunteered to help me, but on one condition.” She tilted her head to the side with a half-smile.

     Grady wiped his hand over his face as the reality of her confession hit him. “Jesus, I can’t believe he did that to you.”

     Al dropped her eyes, while she hooked a blonde lock of hair behind her right ear. “He had been hitting on me since the moment I started working with him. He knew I would never consent to being his mistress, but he wanted me. I just didn’t realize how much.” She raised her eyes to Grady. “I was going to turn down his proposal. Then one day, an agent who always sent his clients to me called and said he was going to start boarding his people someplace else, because he was getting complaints about the conditions in my house. He also said he wasn’t the only one getting complaints. I didn’t have a choice … I needed to get ahold of some ready cash to fix up my house and keep renting my rooms. Otherwise, I was going to lose everything. When I went to Geoff and agreed to his terms, he promised he would take care of me, and make it so I could always keep my home.” She ran her hands up and down her slender arms. “I know what that makes me, Grady, but there are some things in life you would rather die than give up. My home is all I have left. I can’t lose it.”

     “So you stayed with him all these years for the house?”

     “I know it sounds silly, but after a while it turned out to be more than just about the sex, and we actually began to care for each other. He even told me he loved me and was going to leave his wife for me, but I never wanted him as a husband. I knew eventually he would run around on me, too. The gossip around his office was that I wasn’t his first mistress, and I’m pretty sure there have been others while we’ve been together. In the end, I got to keep my house, and he has given me everything I have asked for and more. A new car, clothes, a gourmet kitchen, all the things a man gives his mistress.”

     Grady pulled her into his arms and held her close, feeling like a monumental ass. “I’m sorry. For a man who has always been judged for doing what he does for a living, I didn’t even think twice about judging you. I was wrong. Forgive me.”

     She sighed against him. “There’s nothing to forgive.” She eased back from him. “You were judging me, just like I was judging you.” 

     “Do you still have the loan?”

     She nodded. “It’s a thirty year mortgage, but I’ve managed to pay down the loan by about half in ten years.”

     “How much do you owe?”

     “Fifty thousand.”

     He let her go and took a moment to think. When he looked up at her again, he said, “I can get you the money.”

     “I don’t want your money, Grady.”

     “Why not? Then you could be free of him.”

     “Don’t you see? I would just be trading Geoff for you. I would owe you then, Grady. You would be doing just what he did to me.”

     Grady held her face in his hands. “I want to help you, Allison.”

     She removed his hands. “It’s my problem. I’ll handle it.”

     “It’s our problem,” Grady corrected. “If we are going to make this work, they’re not just your problems anymore; they’re our problems.”

     “Grady, there is no we or us.” Her eyes darted about the kitchen as she tried to contain her frustration. “We’ve only known each other for a few days. You can’t just jump into my life and think you’re going to solve all of my problems and then live happily ever after with me. It takes time to get to know each other.”

     “I don’t need time. I know how I feel, and I want more with you. I don’t want to see how it goes or wait to see how things work out. It’s all or none with me.”

     “I can’t give you any more that what we have right now. I’m still not sure, Grady, can you understand that? I just need some time to—”

     The ringing of the phone from the living room next door interrupted her.

     “Who in the hell would be calling at this hour?” Grady shouted.

     Al said nothing, but walked through the arched entrance to the kitchen and into the living room. Grady quickly followed her.

     She pulled her cell phone from her black handbag and checked the caller ID. Giving Grady one apprehensive side-glance, she turned away and answered the call.

     “Yeah,” she quietly said into the phone.

     Grady instantly realized who was calling her in the middle of the night. The idea of Geoff having so much control over her infuriated him. With every passing second, he felt his grip on his anger slipping away. Unable to stand it anymore, he wrenched the phone from her hand and lifted it to his ear.

     “She’ll have to call you back,” he growled into the speaker, and then hung up the call.

     Al’s eyes ripped into him. “How dare you—?”

     “How dare I?” He was floored by her response. “After what we just did, how can you stand there and talk to that smug son of a bitch?”

     “I have to! I’ve got to keep kissing his ass to keep my house!”

     Grady went to the sofa and picked up his T-shirt. “You say you know what taking up with Geoff made you, but do you know what it makes you if you stay with him knowing how I feel?” He went to the door. “I may sell my body on that stage every night, Allison, but I have fought like hell to try and hold on to my dignity through the years. I wonder if you can say the same thing.” He yanked the door open and bounded into the hall. “When you’re ready for a real relationship, you know where I am.” He slammed the door closed.

     How can she consider staying with that … that asshole!

     Incensed, Grady trotted down the stairs to his apartment. Once inside, he banged his front door closed and went to the kitchen. Frantically searching the cabinets, he finally found the last traces of the bottle of Jim Beam, left over from his night with Doug. He reached for the bottle and eagerly downed the remaining dregs of dark liquid.

     Wiping his hand over his mouth, he could still feel that gnawing in the pit of his soul. Glancing down at the bottle, Grady thought back to his night with Doug and all the things he had told him about his relationship with Beverly. Grady had a sudden desire to vent his frustrations, and he knew of no better place than in a bar, pouring his heart out to a bartender who also happened to be a friend.    

Chapter
16

     The crowd inside Pat O’Brien’s main bar had thinned out tremendously since Grady had first arrived. Familiar tunes from the seventies, eighties, and nineties could be heard as patrons, still nursing their house specialty drinks, sat by the bar. Amazed by the popularity of the colorful beverages, Grady considered what was wrong with good, old-fashioned stand-bys like bourbon and vodka.

     “I think your bar must sell more of those big red things—”

     “Hurricanes,” Doug interjected, standing behind the bar.

     “Yeah … they drink them more than anything else in here,” Grady admonished from his bar stool. “I personally think those damn things get you drunk faster than the Jim Beam we downed the other night.”   

     Doug picked up the empty glass in front of Grady. “You want another JD on the rocks?”

     Grady nodded. “I’m not drunk yet. So keep them coming until I pass out.”

     Doug shook his head and dumped the glass in a sink behind the bar. “Whatever you two had a fight about, it’s no reason to sit in here and get drunk, Grady. You should have stayed and talked it out with her.”

     Grady snorted with contempt while Doug filled a fresh glass with ice. “Why? She won’t call it off with the other guy, and she doesn’t believe me when I say I want to make it work between us. She thinks I’ll bolt at the first itch to hit the road again. How in the hell do I convince her that I’m done with that life?”

     Doug reached behind him for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “You’ll never convince a woman, you know that. What’s the old saying? ‘Man has will, but woman has her way.’”

     “It’s Oliver Wendell Holmes, actually,” Grady corrected.

     “Whatever.” Doug shrugged. “Weren’t you married? Didn’t you pay attention then? Women are only convinced by actions, not words. You can tell her you will never leave, but until you stay and are at her side for the long haul, she’ll never believe you.” He poured the dark brown liquid in the glass until it reached the rim. “Al’s a real tough nut to crack where men are concerned … hell, where people are concerned. She keeps her emotions hidden from everyone. You two have been an item for what, two days? You’re just going to have to give her time.”

     “You’ve been with Beverly for two years, and she still has not left Matt for you. How much more time are you going to give her?”

     Doug placed the glass of Jack Daniel’s on the bar in front of Grady. “As long as it takes. I love her. You’ll put up with a lot of crap when you love someone. I’ll stand by her, be there for her, and hope the day comes when she realizes what a piece of shit Matt Harrison is.”

     Grady lifted his drink. He peered into the dark liquid, summoning the courage to tell Doug what he needed to hear before he wasted any more of his heart on a woman who could never love him. “Matt Harrison didn’t beat her up, Doug.”

     Doug reached for a bar towel and pretended to wipe up a stain. “I figured that, but I never pushed her about the truth.”

     Grady gaped at him, dumbfounded. “You know about the other guys?”

     Doug threw the towel down on the bar. “I know. I’ve always known. When we’re not together, there is some other guy she’s with. It’s usually another stripper. She’s got a thing for strippers. When those guys are finished with her, she comes back to me. She always comes back to me. That’s how I know she loves me.”

     “She just loves Matt’s money more,” Grady commented, raising his glass to his lips.

      Doug leaned against the bar, nodding. “I think she loves the life. Being married to a man who can move mountains is important to her. When you come from nothing, you don’t want to give up the only something you’ve got.” He placed his hand on his thick chest. “Me? I’m just a bartender going nowhere fast. But if I were a man like Matt Harrison, she would be with me, of that I have no doubt.”

      Eyeing Doug’s white, long-sleeved shirt and red bow tie, Grady wondered why the man had not strived for more.  

     “You could do better, Doug. Go to school and get a degree. It’s a start, and who knows, you might meet someone else. A pretty undergraduate that likes your dark, swarthy looks.”

     “Dark, swarthy looks?  Hey, I might not be blond-haired and blue-eyed, but when I danced, the ladies went for my looks more than you California-beach guys.”

     Grady took a long sip from his drink, relieved that for a moment he had not thought about Al. The burning pain in his gut returned whenever he did think of her, and he would toss back more Jack Daniel’s to try and make that pain go away.

     “Anyway, I was a terrible student,” Doug went on. “Damn near failed out of high school. The only thing I was good at was running track. I started dancing right after graduation, to pay for my car, when my parents cut me off. I’m not smart enough for college, like you or Al. You guys planned ahead and always have something to fall back on. My backup plan is right here.” He patted the bar.

     When Doug’s profile caught the light from one of the spotlights hanging above the bar, Grady saw the lines of worry etched in his friend’s brow. Doug may have always strived to appear relaxed about his future, but Grady could see that the years of uncertainty were beginning to wear the man down. Such faces haunted the minds of painters and poets, because any chance to capture the haggard look in a man’s eyes might show the world how treacherous and unyielding the weight of life could be.

     “You could always go back to dancing,” Grady proposed, tearing himself away from his contemplation.

     “I thought about it, but I’d need to get a new agent who could schmooze the club owners that Matt Harrison isn’t friends with.” Doug nodded to Grady. “You ever thought about doing that?”

     “Doing what?” Grady quizzically returned.

     “Being an agent. You’re smart, know financial stuff, and probably could work out better deals than the guys out there now. None of them have ever danced. Might be nice to actually have an agent who knows what it’s like to be a stripper.”

     “Never thought about it.” Grady briefly contemplated the glass in his hands. “I’ve read enough contracts to know what needs to be in them and what doesn’t.”

     “I think you would be better at that then being a stock broker. That isn’t you, but this could be.”

     Grady took another long sip from his glass. “I wonder what Al would say about that.” He shook his head. “Probably would hate the idea.”  

     “Did she tell you why she wouldn’t leave the plastic surgeon?” Doug probed, leaning into the bar.

     “Money.”

     Doug appeared surprised. “Really? I never figured Al to be the gold-digger type. If anything, she’s more of the kind to make it than sleep with it.”

     Grady put his drink down, baffled at how the alcohol was not easing his troubles. “She’s not with him for his money. Apparently, she owes him. He helped her get a loan to keep her house, and then he used it to keep her.”

     Doug winced. “That’s pretty cold. Who would want a woman that way?”

     “A proud peacock,” Grady mumbled.  

     Doug shook his head, grinning. “I think you and I are in the same boat, my friend. We’ve given our hearts to women who are already tied to other men. Mine is married, and yours might as well be.”

     Grady picked up his drink again and knocked back a big gulp. “Yeah, but how do we cure ourselves of this mess?”

     Doug searched the crowd gathered in the main bar. “I could see if Cathy is around.”

     Grady sank down lower on his stool. “Please tell me she’s not here.”    

     “No, you’re safe.” Doug snickered at his reaction. “She left with Randy right before you showed up. She also asked me if I knew about you and your condition … should I even go there?”

     Grady smacked his glass down on the bar. “That was Al’s idea of humiliating me. Cathy showed up at the house, and I let Al tell her I was leaving to go to Atlanta to treat my disorder.”

     Doug raised his dark eyebrows. “What disorder?”

     “Tinea cruris.”

     Doug’s dark eyes went wide. “Wait … jock itch?”

     “Yeah. Can you believe it?”

     Doug laughed so loud that many of the patrons in the bar turned his way to see what the commotion was about.

     Grady smiled at his amusement. “I couldn’t believe Cathy thought it was some deadly disease. I was damn near ready to kill Al for coming up with such a thing, but it got her to leave me alone. Otherwise, Cathy was probably going to stay camped out on my doorstep.”

     “Wish I could have been a fly on the wall for that one,” Doug chuckled. “I knew she was a bit dense, but … Jesus.”

     Grady picked up his glass and analyzed the dark liquid.

     “It won’t help, you know?” Doug berated. “I’ve been there, and all the alcohol in the world won’t erase her from your mind.”

     “What would you suggest … a gun?” Grady joked, as he put the drink back down on the bar.

     Doug picked up his half-empty glass and took it away. “No. Go back to the house and talk to her.”

     “In the morning,” Grady countered. “She needs to sleep. She’s got an early case.”

     Doug poured out Grady’s drink in the sink behind the bar. “Ten bucks says she’s awake, worrying about you.”

     “I thought you said she was a tough nut to crack where men are concerned.” Grady stood from his stool.

     “Tough, but obviously not impenetrable.” Doug scanned the nearly empty bar. “Why don’t you wait a few minutes, let me clock out, and you can give me a lift home?”

     “I walked here,” Grady clarified. “It’s too hard to find a place to park in the French Quarter. It’s easier to walk everywhere.” 

     “Then I’ll walk home with you,” Doug offered.

     “I thought you had to work until four?”

     Doug viewed the clock on the far wall by the jukebox. “It’s really slow, and they don’t need two of us to close the bar. I’ll let the other bartender know I’m leaving.”

     “All right, I’ll wait for you.” Grady sat back down on his stool.

     As Doug took off for the other end of the bar to speak with an older man dressed in an identical long-sleeved white shirt and red bow tie, Grady let his eyes wander to the smattering of customers. By the wall next to the jukebox, he spotted a couple sitting at a table, deep in conversation. He watched how the woman caressed the man’s hand, smiled into his eyes, and appeared to be everything that a woman in love should be: happy, content, and complete.

     Grady thought of Al and the way she had first looked at him when they met at the French Market. Over time, her eyes had changed from cool and distant to warm and inviting. He wondered if what he had initially seen in Al’s gray eyes had not been so much dislike for him, but distrust for what he represented; a man she desired. He knew she had been attracted to him at their initial meeting, but it was not until he had held her in his arms and made love to her that he realized just how utterly explosive that attraction had been. Never had a woman consumed him quite like Al. Even Emma, with her cold, dictatorial personality, had never compared to the burning desire he had for Al.

     Grady wiped his hands over his face and wanted to laugh out loud at his dilemma. Here was the woman he had always wanted, but she was just out of reach.

     “Ready?” Doug inquired, as he came up to his stool in front of the bar.              

     Grady stood up, pushing his concerns aside. “You sure you can just take off like this?”

     “Yeah. Management is always looking to save a buck here and there.”

     When they emerged from Pat O’Brien’s, Grady felt the rush of alcohol he had consumed finally kick in. He swayed slightly and then breathed in the crisp night air, righting himself.

     “All that JD just hit you?” Doug queried, keeping his eyes on him.

     “I’m fine,” Grady fussed.

     Doug motioned down St. Peter Street toward Royal. “Just in case, we’ll walk slow.”

     “Good idea,” Grady concurred.

     When they came to Royal Street, they turned left, heading toward Esplanade.

     Grady surveyed the empty street. “I’m lost.”

     The dark shadows beneath the balconies of the tall Creole townhouses reminded him of the creepy funhouse rides he used to go on as a child. They stepped into blackness, only to emerge on the other side into a moonlit darkness.   

     “You probably take Bourbon Street back to the house, right?”

     Grady nodded. “Only way I know.”

     “Royal is quieter than Bourbon at night, and there are far fewer noisy drunks. I prefer going this way.”

     “I think I prefer having more people around,” Grady affirmed, feeling a little vulnerable amid the empty sidewalks.

     “I like the quieter side of the French Quarter,” Doug professed. “Although, I usually have my gun with me. Just in case.”

     “Now that I know you won’t shoot Matt, I’ll give it to you when we get back.”

     “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”