Dominick
After the longest week of my life, I stopped at the gym on my way home from work to forget about Tanushree, but that didn't work. I mean, it hadn't worked for the last six days, so I didn't know why I thought today would be any different.
She was inked on my skin like a new tattoo, and there was nothing I could do about it now. I'd always be reminded of the girl I'd had but couldn't keep.
With a towel slung around my shoulders and gym bag in hand, I kicked open the door to the club, ready to take a shower and collapse on my bed with a book before the show tonight.
But, when I walked inside the club, I locked eyes with the girl I'd been dreaming about all week.
Tanushree.
She was just standing there, bright as could be, like a spotlight shining on a dark stage.
Dumbfounded, I stared at her. Afraid that if I blinked or breathed or opened my mouth, the light would shut off, and she'd disappear.
I convinced myself that she looked happy to see me. Her dark eyes twinkled with excitement, and my fucking heart was about to explode out of my chest. Either this was a dream, or maybe–just maybe–she didn't hate me after what happened at my office.
This was my opportunity to find out.
I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other, but the closer I got to where she stood by the stage, the more her smile started to fade and the light around her dimmed. Maybe she was nervous. Hell, I was so nervous I didn't know what to say. I lengthened my strides, needing to get to her before she disappeared.
Someone called out my name, and that's when I realized the club wasn't dark and that Tan was surrounded by people–including the guys that danced at the bar and Mimi's friends.
For seven, the place was packed.
One of Mimi's girls tapped Tan on the shoulder, and she turned away from me, breaking eye contact and severing the connection between us. I was forced to stare at her back and the way her black crop top showed inches of smooth, golden brown skin. Her black joggers sat low on her hips.
I liked seeing her like this. Comfortable. Her long hair loose and flowing past her shoulders.
She was perfect, and every inch of her body called my name. Maybe it was wrong or scary, but I wanted to feel that connection again. The way her eyes made me feel like she saw past the tough front I put on for everyone else. Like she saw me.
I dropped my gym bag on the stage beside her and one of Mimi's girls, and their conversation abruptly ended. Tan didn't move. She held so still I didn't think she was breathing.
If someone needed to give her mouth-to-mouth, I was the man for the job.
"Can I speak to you?" I asked in a thick voice that I almost didn't recognize. I had no clue what I was doing or what I was going to say, but I knew I needed to say something. "Alone?"
"I'll give you two a minute." Mimi's friend backed away, leaving us standing beside the stage.
Slowly, Tan turned to face me, and fuck, my breath caught in my throat.
Maybe she wasn't fresh ink. Maybe she was the tattoo gun. Slowly injecting pain and pleasure beneath my skin with every breath. Leaving behind colors I'd never seen before. Call me a masochist, but I wanted more.
"Is this about choreography?" Tan asked, sounding annoyed.
My brain scrambled to process the question. What did choreography have to do with anything? She was here. That had to mean she wanted to see me. Right?
"No. I–"
"Than no," Tan said. She turned around and started walking away.
Wait, what? She didn't want to talk to me? Then why else was she here? Reluctantly, my gaze traveled around the club, taking in the clipboards and the unfamiliar faces speckled in with familiar ones.
I got a hand around her elbow and spun her around before she could get too far.
"I know I'm not the smartest guy, but can you help me understand what's going on?"
Tan pressed her lips together and shrugged. "There's nothing to say. What happened between us is in the past. I'm just here to help your grandma."
The pieces started to fall into place, and it struck me that she hadn't come to see me. She was here because of Mimi. Which meant Mimi had been making decisions about the club...without me.
I released her arm. "How are you helping my grandma?" I asked, needing to hear what I was already suspicious of.
Excitement flashed in her eyes again, lighting her up from the inside out. So beautiful. So, so beautiful.
"I'm the new choreographer."
I didn't have time to stop the next words from coming out of my mouth. "You've got to be kidding me."
As quickly as the flash of happiness in Tan's eyes came, it disappeared again. Replaced by a coldness that seemed to be engineered just for me. God, how stupid could I be to actually think this girl had come here for me? Why the hell would she do that? I was bad for her.
"I'm not joking, Dominick. I'm the new choreographer."
I dragged a hand through my hair. If she was the new choreographer, I wouldn't survive seeing her every day, knowing how badly I'd fucked up. That coldness in her eyes wasn't fake at all. She was angry at me for how I treated her last week, and that anger had frozen over into resentment.
I could read most people like a book, which my therapist said was a response to all the trauma I'd been through. Nice to know I got a consolation prize for having to live through eight years of hell. Even now, I searched every little facial expression or tone for warnings and started mentally preparing for the worst.
The smallest shift in energy would have me shutting down.
So instead of trying to explain myself and admitting how I felt about her, I matched her coldness because that felt safe, even though that wasn't what I wanted to do. Not at all. I wanted to tell her that I'd acted like a selfish dick the day she came to my office, but I couldn't. The words were stuck in my throat.
I hated myself for being like this, but this was my reality. If I tried to explain how I felt, and she rejected me, I wouldn't be able to handle it. And rejection was a guarantee.
This was exactly why I didn't do emotions.
"We don't need your help."
Tan narrowed her eyes, and damn, I felt so guilty for doing this to her. But keeping her away was best for us both. "Well, Blanche says you do. Which is why she hired me."
I couldn't tell Tan that I was afraid of changing one damn thing about this place, hell, I couldn't even tell my grandmother that, so instead, I sputtered out the first excuse that came to mind.
"Why should you be in charge of choreography? You don't know the first thing about strip routines."
"Wanna make a bet?"
I opened my mouth to tell her I'd love to make a bet with her when some guy I'd never seen came bounding over to us and draped an arm around her shoulders.
Every muscle in my body tensed, and I chewed on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from saying or doing something that would get me arrested.
I immediately hated his easy way of taking up space. Including her space.
I jabbed a finger in his direction. "Who the hell is this?"
Tan sighed. "Romeo, this is Lucas. Lucas meet Romeo."
I didn't want to know his name. I wanted to know who he was to her. But I guess it was nice to know the name of the man I was about to throw out of my club.
"What's up, bro?" Lucas held his hand up for a high five like I was actually going to slap it. I glared back at him while cracking my knuckles. This did nothing to deflate his stupid grin. "I love the stage name, by the way. Romeo has a great ring to it. I've got to come up with one for myself. I'm caught between," he waved a hand in the air, "The Melon Felon and Uptown Funk."
Wow.
"Uptown Funk?" I repeated the words, hoping he'd hear how stupid that sounded. But no, he seemed to be immune to stupid.
Tan was smiling one of her fake grins, and I hated that I could tell when she was putting on a show and when she wasn't.
"He's the new dancer Blanche asked me to hire."
Oh no. That wasn't going to happen. I might not have any right to push his arm off her shoulder the way I wanted to, but this idiot wasn't going to get anywhere Rhonda and the girls. "I hire the dancers."
Tan crossed her arms. "Not anymore."
"I don't need one of your uptown pretty boys on my stage." They had been living rent-free in my head for the past week. Having one of her fuck boys here in my club was a no-go. "This isn't the Oiled Olive."
Blondie, with the diamond stud earrings, grinned in a way I was sure I never had, with a face full of dimples. "Did you hear that? He thinks I'm pretty."
That was his takeaway? Jesus. I was going to prison tonight.
"You are very pretty," Tan said reassuringly, patting him on the cheek, which turned the post-workout shake sitting in my gut to stone. "Now get on stage." Without turning her attention back to me, she added, "You too, Romeo. We're going over blocking for the opening number."
I watched her watching him, knowing damn well this was the kind of guy she deserved to be with. Warm. Sunny. Just like her. He probably had a fuck pad in her part of town and took her out to dinner after making her scream.
As much as I hated to admit it, that's what she needed. I was not. She had every right to be happy. I wanted her to be happy. I just couldn't watch this all unfold in front of me.
I snatched my gym bag off the stage. "Sorry, but I don't take orders from ballerinas, twinkle toes."
With one last look at Tan, I stormed across the club, ignoring other people when they called my name, and headed straight for Mimi, who was talking animatedly with a dark-haired guy I hadn't met before.
Who were all these people? They couldn't all be choreographers. The closer I got, I was able to catch pieces of their conversation, and I was annoyed to hear it was about interior design. She was holding a tablet with a mock rendering of the club on it.
"This is truly beautiful!" Mimi exclaimed. "I love your vision for my boudoir!"
Vision? What the hell was there to change? She was already trying to change the dance routines. Now she wanted to change the club? This was the first male strip club in the city. It was an original. Didn't that mean anything to anybody?
I tapped my grandma on the shoulder. "Pardon, Mimi. But can we talk?"
Dressed in one of her favorite floor-length pink dresses with a feather boa wrapped around her thin shoulders, Mimi gave me an exaggerated frown. "What is it, mon chou chou? You look so...grumpy."
Some people might think my grandma was eccentric, but this was what she liked. All my life, she'd told me that the dresses made her feel beautiful.
What she never understood was that I thought she was a beautiful person without the gowns. It was her energy and love that made her special. Just like her club.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "The club doesn't need decor updates or new routines. It's fine the way it is."
"Dominick, I'm not going to argue with you," Mimi said. She sighed and softened her tone. "This is for the best."
Everything in my life felt like it had been flipped on its head. Ten minutes ago, I was beating myself up for treating a girl I liked so poorly. Now, that girl was here, and she had a guy hanging all over her, and Mimi was planning a remodel.
I stepped off to the side, away from the designer, and waved my grandma over. She whispered an apology on my behalf, then joined me.
"Please make this quick. I'm in the middle of a very important meeting."
I knew I wasn't going to be able to talk my grandma out of all this without good reason. And there was one glaring reason why we couldn't carry out her plan. "Where are you getting the money to hire a–a choreographer and an interior designer?"
Mimi leveled a look at me. "Haven't I taught you that it's impolite to ask a woman where she gets her money?"
A good lesson, but not really relevant right now. "This isn't a couple hundred dollars. This is a couple hundred thousand."
"Don't worry so much," Mimi said with a wave of her hand. "Otherwise, your forehead is going to look like Betty's. Poor thing's worried herself into a raisin. Don't be a Betty."
"If I'm not going to worry, then who is?" I asked. "Clearly, one of us needs to be worried."
"Instead of worrying, have hope. Trust that good things will come." Mimi wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me in for a hug. Sighing deeply. It had been a long time since I was small enough for her to lift me up, but that never stopped her from trying, and she grunted with exertion before giving up. "It will be alright."
None of this was alright. Why was no one listening to me? Why did anything need to change? The club was perfect the way it was.
Sure, the ceiling may leak. And yeah, the sound system was glitchy. And okay, so the seats smelled like old cheese. But this place was home. My home. The only place I ever felt comfortable to be myself. The only place I was truly accepted. And if it didn't look and smell the same as it always had, then the memories would disappear, along with the things that made this place unique.
"Go learn Tanushree's dances," Mimi said with a firm but kind smile as she released me from her grip. "Show her the performer you truly are," she added, shaking her pink feather boa in the air. "You are my grandson, and you have a gift for making women feel more than sexy. You make them feel seen." She winked and threw an arm around my shoulders. Dropping her voice, she added, "Besides, you were very taken by this young woman. I thought you'd be more comfortable working with someone you like."
Comfortable? Around Tan? That was impossible. When she was around, I was in agony. Knowing that something so beautiful and perfect could exist in this world and realizing it wasn't meant for you.
"I don't like her. And I'm not learning her dances."