She glared at me. “What’s your problem? You don’t like girls, or something?”
I ran a hand through my hair, fighting to draw in air. “It’s not you, it’s not—” I needed to go. I was sweating and shaking and I felt nauseated. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, practically running toward the door. I flung it open and stumbled into the hall. Anthony looked up as I approached, his brow furrowing. I looked away. He didn’t say anything, just leaned back as I passed him.
As I was heading toward the outside door, Crystal appeared to my right, still in her waitressing uniform, holding a tray of drinks, having obviously come from the bar. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes growing wide as she took me in. The shame in her expression was little comfort to me in that moment. She turned her head and looked at the floor.
I looked away, passing by her, pushing the door open, and bursting out into the parking lot.
Air.
Space.
Freedom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Well, now you’re in a fix, worst of your life. Are you going to make it better? Or make it worse?
Gambit, the Duke of Thieves
CRYSTAL
I hadn’t thought it was possible to hate myself any more than I already did. But seeing Gabriel fleeing the Platinum Pearl with a look of horror on his face proved me wrong. I’d done that to him. I’d set him up to face his worst nightmare. After he’d already suffered so greatly. I was cruel and selfish—a worthless bitch. If anyone deserved to be hurt, it was me.
It was just … it was just that he wouldn’t stop coming back, wouldn’t stop badgering me. Stop trying to justify it to yourself. Just stop. The real truth was that his unrelenting presence made me hope for things I’d given up on long ago, and the reminder of my own forgotten dreams had hurt in a way nothing had hurt in a very long time. The groping, the leering, being used, the dismissals, none of that hurt like Gabriel Dalton asking me to have coffee with him. Why? It was like he was dangling this delicious morsel of food in front of me—but directly out of reach—and I was hungry. God, I was starving. And he’d caused me to dwell on that, and it felt like a slow torture, the final crumbling of the very last intact piece of my heart. I knew that sort of hunger. I’d repressed it for so many years. Now I wanted things I could never, ever have. And I was tired, God, I was so tired of this empty life I led.
I sat at the top of my steps waiting for Kayla to arrive. My car was still in the shop but finally being worked on now that I’d paid my past-due bill. Thankfully, the part needed to fix it this time wasn’t too expensive. Still two hundred and fifty dollars I didn’t have, but I’d be able to come up with it if I was late with the rent next month. The vision of a notice stuck to a front door moved through my mind, my stomach clenching with the memory.
What am I gonna do now? Oh, Lord God, what am I gonna do now?
Bleakness fell over me as if the memory were a heavy, wet blanket. I attempted to shrug it off, but couldn’t manage it. Not today, not with Gabriel’s tormented expression sitting in the front of my mind.
My apartment was at the top of a three-story set of outdoor steps. What had once been a single-family home had been separated into three apartments, the set of rickety wooden steps to mine on the back side of the building. I gazed down at the concrete area below, the small parking lot that had once perhaps been a grassy area where children played. There were several small puddles from the rain that had fallen the night before, and another memory came to me. Mrs. Hollyfield holding my hand as I laughed and jumped from one puddle to another, splashing her with dirty water.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to block out the onslaught of emotion. God, why were all these memories, all these words suddenly running through my mind? I’d pushed them all away for so long and now, for some inexplicable reason, it was like they’d all shown up at my door at the very same time demanding to be let in, demanding I look at them when I really didn’t want to.
Still, the memory of the rain puddles persisted. I swore I could feel the cold water as it leaked through the holes in the bottoms of my secondhand rain boots, sense the distant rush of joy as Mrs. Hollyfield scolded me through her laughter and then pulled me into the comforting softness of her side and kissed the top of my head. I remembered gasping at the rainbows floating at the tops of the puddles as if they were magical, and Mrs. Hollyfield had agreed and told me there was magic everywhere if you were just willing to see it. I’d learned later that those rainbows were really nothing more than dirty oil floating on the surface of the water. And I’d felt deceived. What had seemed magical was really nothing more than grime. There was a metaphor somewhere in there about the direction my life had gone, but I was too weary to try to figure it out.
Sitting there, I felt the sadness that still lived inside me at the long-ago loss of Mrs. Hollyfield. I wondered how different my life might have been if she hadn’t died. But she had. Because that’s what people did. They died, they left without so much as a goodbye—eventually they all went away. If you got attached, if you hoped for love, it was your own stupid fault and you deserved the consequences.
Kayla’s car pulling into the lot snapped me out of my grim thoughts, and I stood, descending the steps.
“Hey there,” I said, sliding into the passenger seat of Kayla’s junky white Chevy. Her car was in even worse shape than mine, which was a true feat. I rested my elbow on the ledge of the open window as the car sputtered its way out of the parking lot.
“Thank God it’s cooler,” Kayla said, the cross breeze from the open windows streaming in as the car picked up speed. I just nodded.
After a few minutes of silence, Kayla asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just need a break. Thankfully this is my last shift before I have a couple of days off. Just … I don’t know, burnt out.”
Kayla sighed. “Aren’t we all?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
We arrived at the Platinum Pearl and both went to our dressing room to change and get made up. I felt like I was partially numb, merely going through the motions, which wasn’t exactly new. But I also felt both shaken somehow and especially tired.
“Hey, Crystal,” Rita said, walking into our dressing room a few minutes after Kayla had left. I hated nights like this where the three of us who shared the room were all working. I felt like there was nowhere I could be by myself, even for a minute or two. Some nights those minutes were the difference between keeping a smile plastered to my face and being the bitch Rodney had accused me of being.
“Hey, Rita.” I went back to applying powder over the foundation I’d just spread over my face.
“Think my boyfriend will be back tonight to give me another try?” Rita smirked.
Anger flashed through my system, but I kept my expression placid. Plus, the anger wasn’t really directed at Rita. It was directed at myself. “Doubt it.”
“What’s wrong with him anyway? Man that good-looking doesn’t like girls? A shame, isn’t it?”
“Who said he doesn’t like girls?”
“He acted like he was scared to death that I’d even touched him. Started breathing all crazy. I couldn’t tell at first if he was scared or turned on.” Sick shame moved through me slowly. I pretended concentration, attaching my false eyelashes, leaning toward the mirror and focusing intently on what I was doing. But my hands had started to shake, and I threw the lashes down. Useless. The lash strip lay on the table in front of me, looking like a sad, dead spider.
“I guess he just didn’t like you,” I tossed at her nonchalantly.
Rita glanced over at me as she pulled on a pair of bikini bottoms. She turned around and inspected her ass in the mirror. I looked away as she began adjusting her G-string. She spanked her firm, unblemished backside and laughed. “Nope. That can’t be it.” She laughed again. “But I’m willing to give him another chance to work up the nerve to enjoy my assets. Man that fine deserves at least one more. So tall and hard all over. Nice big … hands and feet. Mmm.” She
winked, and I found myself wanting to literally kick her out of the room.
“Enough, Rita,” I said, and my voice sounded overly hostile. Or perhaps it conveyed exactly what I was feeling.
Rita looked at me sharply. “What?” she whined. “You gave him to me.”
“I didn’t give him to you,” I snapped, picking up the lash strip again. “He’s not mine to give.”
“Hmm,” she said, looking at me thoughtfully as I again attempted to apply the lash strip, having more success this time. “You seem upset, Crystal. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter. That man just annoys me. I’m glad he won’t be back.”
She gave me a fake sounding laugh. “Okay. Whatever you say. If you don’t want him, someone else will scoop him up quickly enough.”
Yes. Yes, that was true. And it was what I wanted. And it was what he needed, whether he was too stupid to realize it or not. I felt slightly better as I finished attaching the second lash strip, standing to get dressed.
Rita sat down on the couch and started buckling her heels. “He looks familiar, too,” she said. “I think he might have gone to school with my older sister. I think she dated him in middle school.”
No, he was locked in a basement when he should have been in middle school. The thought made my throat feel tight, but I nodded to Rita, murmuring a noncommittal response. “Do you see my white heel?” I asked after a moment, looking around. I wanted to get off this topic. I didn’t want to talk about Gabriel Dalton anymore. I didn’t want to think about Gabriel Dalton anymore.
“Yeah, it’s over there by the door.”
“Thanks.” I picked up my shoe and we started talking about the music we were using that night, and five minutes after that, she headed out the door for her first dance. I used the fifteen minutes I had before I performed to try to get my head on straight. I tried to move my thoughts somewhere other than Gabriel, other than the shame I still felt, other than shy smiles and then the final look of shocked betrayal. But it didn’t work. It didn’t even come close.
* * *
I only had about an hour left before my shift was over when I approached a table of three young, college-aged-looking guys of the variety I supposed most women would find attractive. They obviously worked out and made sure the world noticed with their tight T-shirts, short sleeves rolled up to showcase as much bicep as possible. I threw a round of cocktail napkins on the table. “What can I get you, boys?”
“You,” the brown-haired guy with the extremely square jaw said, ogling me. Go to hell.
“Same here,” the blond with the short beard agreed, staring at my breasts. “I’ll have a large serving.” His eyes were glassy, and he’d obviously already been overserved.
I smirked. “Well now, there’s plenty of me to go around, boys. Come back three nights from now and I’ll carve out some time for a personal dance just for the both of you.” I winked.
The third guy—the one with spiky black hair who was leaning back negligently in his chair—laughed, tipping himself forward. “I’ll get in on that action.” He shot me what I’m sure he imagined was a charming smile.
“What if we don’t want to wait? What if we want you tonight?” the brunet interrupted, reaching out and giving my ass a hard squeeze. I gritted my teeth. God, this is tiresome.
“I’m sorry, the club is closing in an hour, sugar, but there’s time for another round of drinks. What’ll you have?” I glanced around at them, trying to keep the irritation from my voice.
“Guess we’ll just have to take what we want,” the blond said, pulling me onto his lap and palming my breast. “You like that, baby?” he whispered, planting his face against my neck, his beard scratchy, and his moist breath hot against my skin. “I can tell you do.”
I let out a surprised squeak and struggled to get up. Where the hell is Anthony? The man held me down. I felt his erection under my ass as he thrust upward, grinding it into me. Grinding. Pulling. Reaching. Taking. Like every other man before him. And like all the men to come … except Gabriel Dalton. Why the simple honesty of his smile came to my mind—his hesitant touch, the respectful tone in his voice—I had no idea. This was the regular game. I knew the game. Yet, the contrast between Gabriel and this man inspired some sort of immediate, almost irrational rage within me.
I glanced around at the laughing, leering men, the guy whose lap I was sitting on taking every liberty he wanted. Hatred overcame me suddenly and swiftly—loathing that felt limitless and unending—and I raised my hand and slapped his face so hard, his head jerked backward. He let go of me and I leapt to my feet, stumbling away, shocked by my own behavior. I’d never hit anyone in my life. His friends started laughing like fiends, pointing at the man I’d slapped.
“You fucking bitch,” he grated between clenched teeth, his hand moving to his cheek.
“What’s going on here, gentlemen?”Anthony. I spun toward him.
“Where were you?” I asked, an edge of panic obvious in my voice.
“Taking a piss. Sorry, girl.” He turned back to the men. “Out,” he said. “Don’t make me drag you.”
The blond-haired guy pointed at me, his eyes glittering with humiliation. “That two-bit whore slapped me!”
“That’s it,” Anthony said, picking the guy up by the collar of his T-shirt.
“Okay, okay,” the brunet said, standing and weaving slightly. “We were leaving anyway. Calm the fuck down.”
I spun away from the whole scene, making my way to the back, where I threw my tray down and stood against a counter for a few minutes, catching my breath and attempting to rein in my shaky rage.
“You all right, Crys?” Janet asked, coming up behind me and patting me on the shoulder. “Those guys are real assholes.”
I laughed shortly. “Yeah, I am, and yeah, they are.”
“Let it slide off your back, babe. Just another night. Same ol’, same ol’.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Janet.” I drew in a deep breath, feeling so exhausted I contemplated sliding down to the floor right there. That pinched feeling around my heart was back, and I just wanted to go home.
“Oh, hey,” Janet said, turning back to me. “I almost forgot since I was off yesterday, but this was left for you on one of the tables night before last. I was going to throw it away to save you the trouble, but I remember him and he was real cute.” She smiled, winked, and handed me a folded-up napkin.
Smiling weakly at Janet, I took it, and as she walked away, I opened it up to see Gabriel’s name and what I assumed was his cell number. An ache shot to my heart, a strange longing filled with an equal amount of remorse, and I balled it up and stuck it in the small pocket in my server’s apron where I kept money to provide change.
By the time I went back out onto the floor, the guys who had been harassing me were gone, back home to their girlfriends, no doubt. Janet was right. Same ol’, same ol’.
I finished up the last half hour serving a few more drinks to men who were thankfully well behaved. When I was done, I cashed out, hesitating when I pulled the folded-up napkin from my pocket. I balled it up and held it in my fist, intending to throw it away, and went to find Kayla, who had just finished onstage. “You ready?” I grabbed my sweatshirt and pulled it on over my serving outfit. I didn’t even want to bother to change clothes tonight. I’d take a long hot shower and attempt to wash away the despair currently sticking to my skin along with the greasy fingerprints of the jerks who had manhandled me.
Kayla was undressing and turned my way. “Yeah. Just give me five. I heard what happened on the floor. You okay?”
“Yeah.” I waved my hand through the air as if it’d been nothing. And in reality, it was. That type of thing had happened a hundred times before and would likely happen a hundred times again. “I’m fine. I’ll meet you at the front door.”
“Okay. I’ll grab Anthony on my way there.”
I nodded, closing the dressing room door behind me. I grabbed my purse from my locker and headed toward t
he front. I heard a commotion coming from the floor and glanced in to see Anthony breaking up another fight, this time between two girls. Jesus Effing Christ. Would this night never end?
It was policy that security walk us girls to our cars, and under normal circumstances, I’d have waited for Anthony to finish settling the situation he was dealing with. But tonight … deep weariness washed through me, and I turned back toward the front door, pushing out into the summer night air. It smelled like asphalt and rain, and I headed toward Kayla’s car. I couldn’t be inside the Platinum Pearl for one more ungodly second.
“Hey, bitch.”
My heart stuttered and I whirled toward the voice. The man I’d slapped earlier stepped out of the darkness of the trees that grew along the back of the parking lot, his friends behind him, both looking nervous but excited and still drunk. I sucked in a breath, alarm making me feel suddenly weak. I glanced at Kayla’s car and then back at the door. Kayla’s car was closer, but I didn’t have the keys. Oh, shit.
“Not so brave now, are you?”
I turned, facing him fully. I squeezed my fists together at my sides, feeling the small piece of balled-up napkin. As I stood there looking at the man who’d spoken, it felt like the final piece of my will dissolved into nothing, evaporating into the night air of the Platinum Pearl parking lot. I didn’t care what he did to me. God, I just didn’t care. I squeezed the napkin in my grip more tightly. Those kind angel eyes flashed through my mind again, bringing shame, but also peace. I deserved whatever these guys were about to dish out. I deserved it. But before I endured it, I was going to let them know what I really thought of them. I smiled. It felt serene. At my expression, a flicker of confusion crossed over the face of the leader of their little group. “You know what I think of you?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.”
“No, I know you don’t care. I do know that. I just wonder if you know. If you can even imagine.”
He laughed, a taunting sound. “The only thing I care about is you apologizing to me by sucking my dick.”