The Upside of Being Let Down (new adult romance - 1)

From USA Today / NY Times bestselling author, Karolyn
James, writing as London Casey

www.KarolynJames.wordpress.com

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The Upside of Being
Let Down

The fact that AJ's
sister is a stripper has
 
been
the bane of AJ's
 
existence
for as long as she can remember. Every guy that has showed interest only wanted
 
to get closer
 
to her sister. After being
kicked out of college,
 
and
subsequently
 
out
of
 
her
apartment, AJ heads to the strip club for some sisterly advice.
 
Instead,
 
she lands in the apartment
of a cute stranger who seems way too eager to help.

Bryan is a regular
guy looking for the simplicity
 
in
life.
 
A strip
club is definitely not his idea of simplicity, but he is pleasantly
 
surprised at who he
 
finds
 
not
 
prancing around on stage.
 
In the middle of a strip
club his eyes are glued to
 
a
 
woman that is fully
 
dressed
 
and thus begins a
rollercoaster romance
 
that
he never saw coming.

When
 
a risky dare is set in
motion, an earth shattering truth is unraveled and AJ no longer knows who she
can trust.
 
Can
 
Bryan prove that he loves
AJ and help save her bond with her sister before it's too late?

(1)

My sister
’
s a stripper.

There, I said it.

It was just something I had to deal
with, something that had become part of my life for a long time. It sometimes
made life interesting, but mostly it made it hell.

I never liked the name Winnie, I
thought it was too prissy. It sounded too good and it didn
’
t match my sister at all. Then
again, I was given the name Aubrey, which I
’
m
still not sure about. I
’
m
sure there are plenty of nice, beautiful girls named Aubrey, and that
’
s why I had no choice but to
change my name.

If Winnie could change hers, so
could I.

She, considering her chosen
profession, went with subtle, pretty and something that spoke her true colors...
Winnie became
Wicked
.

Yes,
Wicked.

My sister, the stripper, was named
Wicked.

At first, it had been kind of
shocking. The idea of my sister taking her clothes off, getting paid for it seemed
weird and wrong. But once I was old enough to check on Winnie and hang out with
her at work, I started to understand what it was all about.

Everything was fake.

Everything was a big show.

It was like a high, a brief high at
that, unless, of course, you had the funds to keep that high alive.

I chose a better name, at least in
my opinion. For the sake of society, and myself, I went with AJ.

So, yes, my name
’
s AJ.

I had just gotten kicked out of
school and needed to talk to Wicked. She was my go-to girl for anything in life
and not just because she was my sister. She really was a good friend, someone
who would take a second and listen to me. My parents wouldn
’
t, but that
’
s a whole other issue. My
roommate wouldn
’
t listen,
but our relationship was based on splitting the rent, the utilities, and any
leftover Chinese containers in the fridge - no matter who bought the food
first.

I hated my roommate.

Almost as much as I hated college,
which was why I was sitting in my car on a cool evening, surfing the radio. I
got four second snippets of songs, commercials, some static, talk shows about
religion and politics, and every few channels, dead air.

I finally chose one of the dead air
channels, because it felt right.

I was like a dead channel.

I was there. I existed. But... there
was nothing.

That was me.

Nothing.

I was Wicked
’
s little sister.

I was the stepping stone used to
get closer to Wicked.

I was the girl who had found a way
into college... and had gotten kicked out of college.

Whoops.

Not that I really cared. I mean,
seriously, what the hell would I do with an English degree? I spoke the
language. I wrote the language. And something just started to click inside me,
something tearing me away from my life but yet bringing me closer to it.

Sounds messed up, right?

Yeah.

That
’
s
sort of my life.

I knew getting kicked out of school
wasn
’
t a good thing, but
that didn
’
t mean I couldn
’
t get back in. After all, I didn
’
t kill someone, I just never
showed up. I had no interest in school and I stopped finding a way to pay for
it.

Now I had to tell Wicked about it.

I had to tell her to be honest. I
had to tell her because I needed advice. I had to tell her because if I didn
’
t and she found out, she
’
d be really mad at me. At the
end of the day, no matter what I did or who Wicked took her clothes off for, I
loved her to death. We weren
’
t
exactly as close as I wished, but I blamed that mostly on myself... and horny
guys who thought it was hot that I had a sister who stripped.

And it wasn
’
t just that Wicked was a stripper.

She was
the
stripper.

We were both Italian, but her skin
was a little darker than mine. I joked that our father must have been really
giving it to our mother the night he made Wicked. Kind of gross, I know.

The dead air station started to
freak me out a little, especially since I got in the back corner of the parking
lot where the lighting was bad and I hadn
’
t
seen another human or moving car in minutes. It gave me the feeling the end of
the world had come. Imagine that. Then I wouldn
’
t
have to go inside and talk to Wicked.

I sighed and took the keys out of
the ignition.

“
Shit,
”
I whispered.

I had to face the music.

Actually, I literally had to face
the music. Going into the strip club was like crossing the threshold of a
fantasy. The drunk men. The money. The women they thought they controlled. In reality,
the women controlled them. What an amazing concept to take your shirt off, get
money for it, and then tell someone not to touch.

Hey, maybe this whole
getting-kicked-out-of-school thing would pay off in another form. I could do
what Wicked did. My name would be Used. That
’
s
sexy, right? Used, the stripper sister of Wicked. Or maybe I could be Nasty.
Then Wicked and I could be the Wicked Nasty sisters.

Yeah. Right.

I shivered just thinking about it. I
walked across the parking lot. I could have moved my car closer but I needed
the walk. I needed to clear my mind.

But that didn
’
t happen.

My mind couldn
’
t be cleared.

And once I got to the entrance of
the strip club there was no chance of it being cleared then. I opened the door
and stepped inside. The overwhelming sounds and thuds of bass from the music
attacked me first. Before I could get through the second set of doors, I had to
show my ID to prove I was old enough to go inside. A few of the bouncers
recognized me and gave me flirty eyes and a smiling nod, as if they thought I
was easy enough to use to get to Wicked.

This guy didn
’
t.

He looked at my ID, looked at me,
and then looked my ID again.

“
You
look young,
”
he said.

“
Thanks,
I guess,
”
I said.

“
Is
this fake?
”

“
That
’
s your job to figure out,
”
I said.

I stood my ground, staring up at
the massive guy. He could have thrown me out, which wouldn
’
t have surprised me. That was
kind of how my entire day had been going. If he had thrown me out I would have
snuck in through the back or just started calling Wicked until she had a break
to answer her phone.

“
Looks
good to me,
”
the bouncer
said and let me in.

I won one battle so far.

The club wasn
’
t as packed as I
’
d seen it before, but a lot of
people were enjoying themselves. The music playing, women dancing on stage, men
- and women - enjoying the dancing. I walked towards the stage, my eyes open
and peeled, waiting to see Wicked. I bumped into someone and apologized. The
guy looked at me and laughed. I wasn
’
t
sure why he laughed. He kept walking and so did I. It rubbed me the wrong way
and almost instantly put me in a bad mood.

When I didn
’
t see Wicked on stage, I walked towards the side
area that led backstage. I got to the door just as it opened and two women
walked out. They were blonde, one I think wore a wig. They were topless and
something told me nobody would give a damn about the wig, but to each their own
I guess.

I didn
’
t know them because I didn
’
t really know any other strippers. I didn
’
t come to the strip club to
socialize or make friends. I didn
’
t
judge anyone, I just didn
’
t
like to socialize or make friends in general. Naked or clothed, it didn
’
t matter.

I assumed their names were probably
Sparkle or Sunshine or Wreck Me or Sin.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

“
Is
Wicked back there?
”
I
asked.

Their arms were interlocked and
they looked annoyed and tired.

“
Who
are you?
”
one of them
asked.

“
I
’
m her sister. AJ.
”

“
Isn
’
t AJ a guy
’
s name?
”
the other asked.

I looked at the curves of the
woman, the way her hair was greasy and littered with glitter. How her face
looked drawn, worn out, a face that spent too many nights drinking and smoking.
The comments came to me faster than I cared for, but I managed to hold them all
off.

I played nice.

And that alone should have allowed
me back in college.

“
Is
she back there?
”
I asked
again.
“
I really need to
talk to her.
”

“
Are
you in trouble?
”
the other
stripper asked. She was a little nicer.

I put my hands out and blocked the
sight of their breasts. There was nothing wrong with it, it just feeling
strange to be so close to two topless women.

“
I
’
m not in trouble,
”
I said.
“
But I kind of need her.
”

“
Everyone
needs Wicked,
”
the bitchy
stripper said.

The two giggled and walked away. I
turned and stared, wondering how they walked with such a small piece of string
stuck between their butt cheeks.

I walked to the other side of the
stage to a bar close to the stage. Of course, the bartender was a topless
woman. There was one open seat. I sat, ordered a cherry soda, and sipped it.

Wicked was going to be so surprised
to see her little sister waiting.

I should have brought some ones.

(2)

I didn
’
t even take two sips of my soda before I felt
someone looking at me. I turned my head to the right and a decent looking guy
stared at me. His hand gripped a beer and he had a messy stack of money near
the other side of the bar.

“
Be
careful,
”
I said, pointing
to the money.
“
You don
’
t want all your money to fall.
”

I layered it with sarcasm
considering there couldn
’
t
be more than ten dollars there.

The man slid towards me, trying to
be cool.
“
Maybe that
’
s the point. I like it when they
bend over.
”

My mouth opened, but I had nothing.

Was that a pick up line?

If so, I must have missed something
in life then. Weren
’
t guys
supposed to do something stupid or just flat out ask?

“
That
’
s good to know,
”
I said.

“
What
about you?
”
he asked.

“
I
’
m here for the strippers,
”
I said.
“
Sorry.
”

His eyes lit up and I sipped more
of my drink. I meant that as more of a way to scare the guy away but
considering where I was and the raunchy fantasies probably running through
everyone
’
s minds, that only
added fuel to the fire.

“
Well...
if that
’
s the case...
”

I winced and begged for a break.

I won another battle a second later
when music started to play again, really loud. Everyone focused on the stage
and there she was.

Wicked.

My sister.

The stripper.

She strutted onto the stage, one
foot in front of the other, wearing tall black heels. I think there was more
stuff on her shoes than the rest of her outfit she wore. She wore a black thong
and a ripped up tight shirt, her breasts pushing against it. I turned my head,
not wanting to see my sister like that. The crazy part was that Wicked was
seriously beautiful. She was a gorgeous woman. Her features were striking, her
hair black as midnight, her face perfected like an angel. And her eyes were
always striking and bold.

When you added the tattoos and
piercings, Wicked was just addicting. Although, I never understood the appeal
of tattoos and piercings but again, who am I to judge? A lot of people asked me
if I had any tattoos and piercings because most assumed I would walk in my
sister
’
s footsteps. I
usually made up something gross and chased them away. Chasing people away was
my social trait. The scary part was when I chased myself away.

Wicked walked the stage, commanding
it.

She touched the top of her shirt,
flirting with every person at the bar, touching the shirt, teasing to rip it
off her body. When she saw me, I sipped on my soda and waved. I saw the look on
her face for a second and she spun around, showing everyone her backside. I
looked up and down the bar at all the people desperate to give her money. I had
to hand it to Wicked. When I sat like I did, completely taking myself out of
the context of being family and all that garbage, it was impressive. She was...
an artist.

She turned back around and tore the
shirt off her chest.

For the rest of the song, she
casually made her way along the bar, doing what she had to do, collecting
money. She smiled. She winked. She showed her teeth in seductive play. She
touched, she loved, and to be honest, she looked like she really enjoyed
herself. And if she could find something like that to fall in love with, then I
would be a liar if I didn
’
t
say jealousy didn
’
t soar
through me.

When she got near me, I sipped the
rest of my soda and pushed it towards her.

“
Do
you do refills?
”
I asked.

Wicked smiled and shook her head.
“
Aubrey...
”

“
Careful
with the name,
”
I said.
“
Or else...
”

“
AJ,
”
Wicked corrected herself.

I smiled.
“
Thanks, sister.
”

“
What
are you doing here? I
’
m
working.
”

We had a small window of
opportunity to talk.
“
Listen,
I need to talk to you. Some advice, okay?
”

“
I
’
m working,
”
Wicked said.
“
Is it bad?
”

Was it bad?

Was it bad getting kicked out
college?

Would I be ruined for the rest of
my life?

Would I look back at this moment
and realize my entire life went off course?

Probably not.

“
I
just wanted to tell you something,
”
I said.
“
But you
’
re busy. I
’
ll call you.
”

“
Don
’
t get into trouble,
”
Wicked said. She looked to
someone next to me and batted her eyes.
“
That
’
s my little sister. She
’
s always looking for trouble.
She wants to be just like me.
”

I sighed and shook my head.

Great.

Now everyone would be looking at
me, wondering what kind of trouble I wanted.

Thanks, sister.

Wicked was gone and when the song
ended, she left for good. People ordered more drinks, I got a refill on my
soda, and life continued forward. To my left, the guy sitting there got up and
left. The open seat lasted no more than a minute before someone else sat down.

I didn
’
t mean to look at him the way I did and it didn
’
t help when I froze.

Sexy.

That was the first thing that came
to mind.

Like... killer sexy.

He had messy hair that stopped just
above his eyes. And his eyes were piercing blue color that threatened to take
my breath away if I stared for another ten seconds. I looked forward and tried
to be cool. I needed to just get up and go, but I wanted to wait for Wicked
again. I really had nowhere else to go. Going home would be my last resort. The
plan was to outlast Angela, my roommate, so I could get in and sleep without
hearing the backlash of how I got kicked out of college. Not that I blamed for
the scolding she was probably desperate to give me. Part of my financial aid paid
my half of the rent for the apartment. That was all gone too.

Whoops.

But she knew I was a mess when we
got the apartment, on a whim eight months ago. It made sense at the time. We
both wanted out of the dorms. She hated her life there and I just hated
everything. I had money. She had money. We didn
’
t
butt heads and we made a promise to make it last a year.

I
’
d
find a way to pay the rent, so after Angela yelled and worried, I
’
d calm her down.

The sexy guy next to me stared at
me.

I didn
’
t need to look at him to know it.

I could feel it.

“
See
something?
”
I asked.

“
Maybe,
”
he said.
“
I
’
m
Bryan.
”

“
Wow,
that was fast. Is that your thing?
”

“
Do
you like it fast?
”

I rolled my eyes.
“
Come on. We
’
re in a strip club. You have to
have better pickup lines than that.
”

“
Yeah,
good point.
”
Bryan stared
ahead and tapped his lips.
“
This
is hard. All I can think of are useless pickup lines. I mean, I guess I could
tell you how much prettier you are than all the women on stage... but...
”

“
But?
”
I asked.
“
Not very flattering, huh?
”

“
Not
quite,
”
Bryan said.

“
So,
do you come to strip clubs often?
”
I asked.
“
Is that how you
get off a little? Can
’
t man
up out in the real world and find a girl?
”

Bryan looked at me with a stone
like face.

Damn, he was sexy.

“
What
are you doing here?
”
he
asked.

Years of experience taught me that
when talking to a hot guy, the last thing you want to do is give it away that
your sister is a stripper. The attention always went to Wicked and I then
became a stepping stone.

“
Do
you like it?
”
I asked. I
leaned towards Bryan.
“
Do
you like looking at these topless women? Giving them money?
”

“
Maybe
I do,
”
Bryan said.
“
Does that bother you?
”

“
No,
not really. You
’
re just
another pervert I guess.
”

“
Can
I buy you a drink?
”

“
No.
You can give me money so I can buy myself a drink. And then you can crawl back
to where you came from.
”

“
What
if I came here to see you?
”

“
What
if I told you you were a fucking liar?
”
I smiled.

“
I...
uh...
”

“
Your
table behind you is staring. I guess I could kiss your cheek and make you look
cool, right? Then you could tell them how you picked up a chick at a strip
club. That I
’
m some wild
girl, right?
”

“
Whoa,
”
Bryan said.
“
You
’
re mind is too far ahead here.
”

“
Is
that so?
”
I asked.

“
Yeah.
”

“
Still
want to buy me that drink?
”
I asked.

Music started to play again,
getting louder by the second. The club swelled with sexual energy, and if I had
to admit it, my own body felt good as I looked at the sexy guy talking to me.

But I had no real interest in it
all.

I needed to tell Wicked about
college.

Then I needed to get a plan
together.

If I had a plan, Wicked would help
me out. If I had a plan, it looked like I cared enough to... well, care.

The last thing I needed was someone
distracting me.

“
Hello?
Bryan?
”

“
Ah,
that
’
s better,
”
Bryan said.

“
What
is?
”

“
The
way you said it. My name. I like that.
”

“
You
’
re gross,
”
I said.

“
I
guess. After all, I
’
m in a
strip club, right?
”

He got a drink, paid for it, and
left the tip. I noticed that as he took the drink, he thanked the topless woman
and stared at her eyes the entire time. She had large, perfect breasts and he
looked into her eyes.

“
Don
’
t get too drunk,
”
I warned.

“
Me?
Nope. Just a soda.
”

Bryan stood and turned. I grabbed
at the back of his shirt and missed. I leaned more and slipped my fingers into
one of the back pockets of his jeans. I tugged and Bryan stopped. He looked
back at me.

“
AJ,
”
I said.

“
AJ?
”

“
That
’
s my name. AJ.
”

“
My
one friend from grade school was named AJ. Never met a girl named AJ though.
”

I gritted my teeth and felt like an
idiot. I had to stop focusing on Bryan
’
s
eyes and the way his jaw appeared to be cut from steel and covered with a
little scruff.

“
You
’
re a pervert,
”
I said.
“
Have a good night.
”

“
I
always do,
”
Bryan said.

I couldn
’
t tell if he was being serious or teasing me, but
the worst part of it was that I hated myself for how it bothered me. The only
good that came from talking to Bryan was that it killed some more time.
However, I had another hour or so to kill before Winnie would get off. Maybe if
I played my cards right I could throw some tears into the mix and just stay at
her place for the night. That depended on her roommate, some goody-two-shoes
woman who had herself wrapped up in some wild relationship with a rich guy. I
heard Wicked talking about once or twice.

Not even two minutes later, as I
ordered my third cherry soda of the night, I felt an elbow touch me. I rolled
my eyes and asked,
“
Back
for more...?
”