"YOU can trust me."
Harry's words echo in my ears all the way to work.
"…trust me."
The word trust in particular bounces around my head like a pinball.
I've become accustomed to relying on myself, on my ability to be self-sufficient, which up until now has worked out just fine. Only now, there's this guy—this stranger—that's throwing me for a loop. He's thoughtful, and kind, and though his exterior screams stay away he's gentle and sweet, and completely compelling. But at the same time; he's a stranger. I've known him for mere weeks and I just left my son with him in my apartment and oh my God what have I done?!
I contemplate asking the taxi to turn around at least three times, but can't seem to get the words out of my mouth. By the time I get to work my chest is tight and my stomach is clenched so hard I feel like I might vomit.
"You're early."
Leah is covered in a light sheen of sweat, and her dark skin shines under the fluorescent lighting of the dressing room. She flops into a seat, puffing as she tosses a handful of notes onto her dressing table. Since she's been working at one of Nick's other clubs for a few weeks, I've not seen her around for a while. She's loud, a bit rude, and a lot fierce, and I hadn't realized how much I missed her until now.
"Hello to you, too."
I shove my bag into my locker, but pull my phone from the side pocket. "Is Nick around?"
"Nah," she says, reapplying powder to her face. "Tania is though."
I glance back to see a thin strip of light visible beneath Nick's office door. I'd been hoping to catch him early, maybe wrangle my way out of half of my shift so that I can get back to Cody. It's not unlike him not to be here, it's just that it's the first night I've actually wished he was.
I turn back to Leah, glancing down at the darkened screen on my phone. "Jon in tonight?"
She smiles, sorting her tips into small piles: one for her, one for Nick, one for the bouncers, and, most likely, one for Jon.
"He's out front."
Leah's only problem is her boyfriend, our in-house DJ. Jon's a part time player with a full time drug habit, and Leah is just the latest in a string of short term girlfriends. She's strong, independent and will happily break balls if she needs to, but when it comes to Jon she simply will not be told. She's completely blinded by her love for him. It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion and there's nothing I can do but watch it happen and hope it doesn't completely destroy her.
I press the home button on my phone, hoping to see a message or a phone call but there's nothing.
It's been forty-five minutes, I tell myself. They're fine. Cody is fine.
The side door swings shut with a loud bang, and both Leah and I turn to watch Tia, a ring-in from the Vegas club, saunter into the dressing rooms. She's tall, blonde, a deep shade of sun bed-infused brown, and has the biggest breasts I've ever seen. If I didn't know her I'd think she was a total air-head. But I do. And she's not. She's sweet and intelligent, and has a boy about Cody's age. I guess that's just the stigma that comes along with being a stripper. Women think we're whores and men think we're easy, when really we're just regular women with families and lives and mortgages and loans and bills to pay like everyone else.
"Evening, ladies," she says, dropping her bag at her feet before swooping in for a hug.
Her arrival softens the tight feeling in my stomach a little, and as she follows me into the change room I let our simple conversation take my mind off of Cody. For one moment we're just two girls gossiping about makeup and clothes, doing our hair and getting dressed up. It's moments like this that make me realize how much I've missed having another girl to talk to.
Tia laces a bright red corset up, pushing her chest up so high her boobs are practically tucked beneath her chin.
"So. Who is he?"
My head swivels around so quickly I'm surprised it doesn't fall right off. "Who's who?"
She gestures to the phone in my hands. "You've checked that, like, eight times in the last five minutes."
I can feel the blush creeping up my chest. I toss the phone back into my locker and cover it with my jeans. Out of sight, out of mind.
"You're crazy," I reply, adjusting my stockings and trying to look distracted.
Tia looks at me knowingly, with a wry smile that says she can see right through me. "Uh-huh."
Closing the locker, I slip my shoes on. While it's nice to gossip like two regular girls, I don't want to be the topic of said change room gossip; especially not here where I try so hard to keep my private life private.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Tia's laughter follows me out of the change room.
"Still no Nick?" I ask Leah, who's now sitting with her long legs on the dressing table, flipping through a magazine. I'm sure she's probably supposed to be out on the floor, I don't know—working, but it's well-known that she and Nick don't see eye-to-eye, and without him around she mostly does as she pleases.
"You got a girl boner for Nick tonight, Scar?"
I wrinkle my nose. "No. I just need to talk to him."
She sighs. "I'm sure he'll drag his vile ass in at some point."
I adore Leah, I do. But as much I love her, I really hope I'm not around when Nick decides he's had enough of her attitude.
At almost nine o'clock the club is still relatively quiet. Some of the tables are half full, and there are a few guys at the bar hanging around, but it's too early in the night for private dances, and judging by the glasses of cheap beer in their hands half of them wouldn't be worth my time anyway.
I can feel eyes on me as I walk toward the bar, feel the warmth of the lust-filled gazes. Tonight, Rose is dark seduction in black lace and thigh-high stockings, with dark eyes, lips the color of blood, and short blond hair that skims my jaw. Tonight, she's bold and seductive and she's everything they want. Everything they need, even if just for ten minutes.
Even with Rose sitting delicately in place, hiding the real me from the assessing eyes, I'm still dying for something to calm my mind for a moment. Something to help take the edge of the worry that sits bunched up in my muscles and in the pit of my stomach.
"Hey, Jon."
Jon pushes the headphones off his ears, letting them rest on his shoulders. "Hey!" he says, flashing me a sparkly smile. "What's up, beautiful?"
His eyes are dark and shiny, and there are two perfectly-placed dimples in each of his cheeks. I can see why Leah is attracted to him, but if he didn't ask us all for "a loan" every other shift, and if I didn't see him constantly snorting lines off of the nearest flat surface, I'd like him a whole lot more.
"Gimme something I can sweat to, okay?" I yell over the music.
The dimples in his cheeks deepen, and his eyes are so chemical-bright they're dazzling. "Right on! I have the perfect thing!" He turns back to the turntables, and I slip back behind the stage.
I stretch a little, just enough to warm up my shoulders, but I'm really just eager to get onto the stage and get moving. And it turns out Jon does have the perfect song. It begins and it's like the whole world slips away, the whole place empties and it's just me, the stage, and the music. I pour everything I have into the dance, and by the time my three and a half minutes are up I'm panting so hard I can feel my heart beating in my mouth. The insides of my legs smart from the pole, and I think I accidentally ripped the clasp off of my halter top as it came off, but when James finds me out the back with a wad of tips in his hand and a huge smile on his face, it's all totally worth it.
"You killed it!" he says, giving me a high five. "I swear, I thought this one guy was going to blow his load all over the place."
I laugh as he hands me the balled-up material of my top and a fistful of notes. I give him a few back for his cut, slipping an extra couple of bucks in there for retrieving my top. The clasp is an easy fix, especially since I don't have money to burn buying endless outfits.
James pulls the curtain aside a little and pops his head out before closing it again quickly. "Whoops, looks like the boss is in the house; I'd better get back to work." He holds a hand out and I take it, keeping my balance as I wrestle with my heel. "Make sure you give me some warning next time," he jokes. "Can't have you starting any riots up in here."
Smiling, I roll my eyes at his lame attempts at flattery. James is a total cheese ball but takes his work seriously. Heaven help the man who pushes his luck on his watch.
"I'll make sure to let you know."
"I don't pay you two to talk," snaps Nick as he strides past, the smell of his cologne wafting after him.
James and I scurry off in opposite directions, out of Nick's sight. I think briefly about turning and following him into his office to speak to him about leaving early, but when I hear something behind his door smash against the wall I think better of it. Instead, I creep past Katie and Tia and check my phone, making sure I haven't missed a phone call or a message.
I haven't.
The phone hits the bottom of my locker with a thump as I toss it back with more force than is really necessary. Now I can't decide if I'm nervous because Harry hasn't called me like he said he would, or if I'm nervous because I feel bad about leaving him alone with Cody.
I mean, I don't even know how old he is, or where he's from. Or if he really does fix cars. Something about the cuts and bruises on his face doesn't scream nine-to-five mechanic to me.
But he did offer to fix my truck, so what's to say he's not?
Hell, I don't even know if he has a girlfriend or not.
The thought makes my chest squeeze and my stomach ache, and I can't help but think about our little moment in the kitchen earlier. Was it all in my head? I'd been so sure that something had passed between us, but now, with some distance between us, I'm second-guessing it. Was I seeing something that wasn't there? He's never mentioned a girlfriend, but then it's not like Harry is a particularly chatty guy.
Oh, God. What if he does? Here I am having all sorts of… lusty… thoughts about a guy who has a girlfriend.
A girlfriend!
"Hey, handsome," I sing, winking as Mr. Married lets me slide onto his lap.
I try my best to get my head back into work but I can't stop imagining what she looks like. Is she pretty? Of course she is; someone as handsome as Harry wouldn't be wanting for pretty girls. Does she have tattoos like he does? I look down at my skin, where the only marks I can see are the faint white lines on the lower part of my stomach. Not really the kind of marks men look for on a woman.
"What does your daddy think of you doing this?" whispers Mr. Married, all the while staring down at my chest.
I smile, swaying my body to the music. "I don't have a daddy," I whisper back, leaving off the he's dead part.
"And what about your mom?" he presses, still looking at my chest. "What does she think of you being here?"
Clenching my teeth, I slide off his lap and pop my leg up beside him, smiling as he slips a note into my garter belt. "I don't know, honey," I say, leaning in a little closer. "How does your wife feel about you being here?"
He blanches, and I push off the seat, leaving him to deal with his self-righteous bullshit. Asshole.
Still, thoughts of Harry's kind of girl swarm my thoughts. Does she make him smile? Does she get to see the smile that crinkles the side of his eyes? The one that makes his whole face light up? The one I'm so desperate to see?
I can't take it anymore.
Seconds later I'm back in the locker room with my phone out, dialing his number before my brain has a chance to catch up. Thankfully, he answers on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Um, hi, it's Scarlet?" I want to slap myself for the timid sound to my voice.
"Hey."
There's a pause, and the even in silence it suddenly feels like the space between us isn't quite so wide. I can hear the sound of the TV in the background, and something about it feels immediately comforting, and I can practically feel the stress leeching out from my skin and evaporating into the air around me.
"Everything going okay?"
"Yeah. Everything's fine. We're watching TV."
I glace at the clock. It's past nine thirty, way past Cody's bedtime. He's going to be one grumpy little guy in the morning.
"He's here if you want to speak to him."
"He is?" I glance around before tucking myself into a quiet corner. "Can you put him on?"
There's some rustling, and then the sweetest sound in the whole world.
"Momma?"
His voice makes me smile. "Hey, baby. What are you still doing up?"
"Harry's letting me watch Cars."
"Again?"
"He hasn't seened it, Momma!"
"Are you being a good boy? Did you brush your teeth?"
Cody sighs exasperatedly, which turns into a yawn. "Yes."
"Don't forget to go to the bathroom before you go to bed, okay?"
"Yeah, Momma. Okay gotta go."
"Can you put—"
He hangs the phone up and I stare dumbly at the screen.
Did my four year-old just hang up on me?
Talk about attitude.
I think about calling back since Harry and I kind of got cut off, but I don't really need to, and I probably should get back to work. However, as I replay the conversation in my head I realize that I don't want to be here all night. Any night but tonight - tonight, something inside of me screams to be at home.
The click-clacking of my heels echoes through the hallway outside of Nick's office. His door is open, and I find Tania inside, draped across his leather sofa like a streak of blonde and red. There are dozens of tiny bags on the table, into which I watch him slide half a dozen or so pills before sealing them up. There has to be at least a thousand of the pills sitting on his desk. While Nick has never made a secret of his drug dealings, he's also never been so brazen about it.
"What do you want?" he asks impatiently.
"Oh." I swallow thickly. Moments like this are like a bucket of cold water. A scream in my ear that says what are you doing here? "Um - any chance I could leave early tonight?"
"No."
I step forward, trying to look confident, determined, feeling anything but. "I'd really like to get home to Cody. My babysitter pulled out at the last minute, and I—"
"You left your son at home alone?"
Anger, thick and instantaneous, races through me and I feel my cheeks flush. "What kind of mother do you think I am?" I snap, crossing my arms over my chest to stop from reaching across his desk to throttle him. "He's with a neighbor."
"So let the neighbor look after him," he says, barely paying attention. "You can finish the shift like everyone else."
I glance at Tania, who gives me a sympathetic look in return. She sits up a little, the red dress riding high on her thigh. "You know, the girls will be fine without her tonight. You can let her go."
Nick looks up. "Who runs this place, you or me?" he snaps, glaring at Tania. "I'm trying to run a fucking business here."
"I know," she says in a placating voice. "I'm just saying that the club is slow tonight, if you wanted to let her leave we would be okay. That's all."
Nick sighs so loudly it turns into an all-out groan. You'd think I'd just asked him to solve world hunger. He leaves me hanging for a long minute, his eyes glued to the camera feed and the pile of pills in front of him. After what feels like an eternity, he nods his head. "Fine. Finish up at one."
I fight the urge to sigh with relief. "Thank you, Nick."
I'm reaching for the office door when he calls out to me.
"You owe me," he says, his dark eyes fixed on mine.
A lead weight sinks to the bottom of my stomach. Owing Nick a favor, being in his debt, is not a safe place to be in.
"Okay."
By the time I'm standing at the kerb at one o'clock, trying my best to hail a cab, I've convinced myself that Harry has kidnapped my son to sell on the black market. Or that there's been a fire in the apartment building. Or an earthquake localized entirely to the west side of the city.
What was I thinking leaving him with a stranger?
Idiot.
You idiot.
The cab ride home seems to take forever even though it's Sunday night and the roads are almost clear. I practically toss the cash at the driver before sprinting for the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach our floor.
Standing outside my door, I take a minute to catch my breath. My hands are shaking as I slip the key into the lock. The apartment is dark except for the light from the TV, and Harry is on the couch, his face lit up as he flicks idly through the channels. The sound of the door closing gets his attention and he drops the remote onto the couch as he rises.
"Hey," I say tentatively, dumping my bag just inside the door.
He reaches over and turns on the little lamp beside the couch, a little circle of light pooling at his feet and casting the room in a warm yellow glow. "Hey."
Everything seems to be exactly the way I left it, bar the two clean cups on the side of the sink. It feels like every muscle in my body relaxes, and my shoulders sag with the relief.
"Long night?" Harry asks.
I toe my shoes off. "Weird night."
Nodding, Harry's fingers scrub through his hair, leaving it a shambles. He swallows, his expression bordering on nervous. It's such a strange state to see him in since he always seems so calm and collected.
"Is everything okay?"
"I—Yeah…"
He rubs a hand across the back of his neck before gesturing with his head to follow. I'm momentarily confused, and then startled when he moves toward the door to my bedroom. Harry is walking into my bedroom.
What on earth?
Holding my breath, I tentatively follow him to where he stands in the doorway. There's a small yellow light glowing in the corner, which I find strange until I spot Cody. He's sprawled face down on my bed, his head in one corner, his feet angled toward the other, snoring quietly.
"He wouldn't sleep in his own bed," whispers Harry, looking at me cautiously. "I didn't – I mean, he just got in. I didn't touch anything."
He's nervous about being in my bedroom. He's nervous and for some reason I find it unashamedly attractive.
I smile, imagining calm Harry dealing the ruthless stubborn streak that Cody has. I can't really complain about it, since he gets it from me, but I know how frustrating it can be at times.
"It's fine," I say. "I don't mind sharing my bed."
My mouth snaps shut.
I did not just say that.
"Not that I share it often." My cheeks flame and I'm eternally grateful that it's dark in the hallway. "I mean—he's no trouble—it's fine. It's…" I squeeze my eyes shut tightly. "It's fine."
Way to go, Scarlet!
"How was the movie?" I ask, resting my shoulder against the door frame.
Shrugging, Harry tucks his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. "I'm more of a Transformers guy myself."
I smile. "Well, between The Avengers and dinosaurs and Cars I don't think I can handle another of Cody's obsessions. Let's keep the Transformers thing to ourselves, okay?"
Harry's mouth lifts just a little, and he looks down, nodding. "Okay."
I tuck my hair behind my ear, trying not to think about what just half of one of his smiles does to me. "Thank you for tonight, Harry."
He leans back against the opposite side of the doorway, his hands still in his pockets. "Cody's cool. I don't mind."
"Yeah, well, I'm sure you had better things to do."
Harry is quiet for a moment, the both of us watching Cody sleep soundly.
"Do you need someone to look after him again tomorrow night?"
"Are you offering?" I ask, trying not to sound as surprised as I am. When he nods, I can't help but ask the question that's tumbling around inside my head. "Why? Why are you doing this?"
Harry doesn't answer right away. He just looks at me with those green eyes than pin me down, hold me in place with their intensity.
I flatten my hand over my bangs, trying to look anywhere but at him. "I have to know that you're not doing this because you feel sorry for me."
His brow creases. "Why would I feel sorry for you?"
"Come on," I say, rolling my eyes. "Broke single mother and a stripper to boot? I know what people think about me."
"Yeah, well maybe I'm not people."
He's standing so close that I can smell him, and good God if he doesn't smell warm and masculine; the kind of comforting scent you want to bury your face into. When I find myself leaning in just a little closer, I suddenly realize that if I can smell him he can definitely smell me. Unlike Harry, I do not smell great. I smell like cheap perfume and cheaper women. Like hairspray and body bronzer. I take a little step back, inhaling a lungful of non-Harry scented air to clear my head.
"Just… I'm not a charity case, okay?"
Harry crosses his arms over his chest. "And I'm not an asshole."
Something akin to shame washes over me. I sigh. "No, you're not. I know that. I'm just not used to people doing nice things for me for no reason."
Sighing quietly, Harry scrubs his fingers through the hair on his cheek. "I…" He looks up at me. "I don't want anything from you, Scarlet."
His eyes shine in what little light Cody's nightlight puts out, a steely gaze directed at me that makes me want to laugh and smile and giggle and crawl under the bed and hide all at the same time.
"Although, like I said, I'll take payment in the form of lasagna if you're offering."