JACK.
I roll his name around in my head.
Harry thinks this guy is the key to everything, the key to my freedom from this place.
Three days seems like three years when you're waiting for salvation. But if meeting Jack is the first step on a new path, then three days is nothing. A heartbeat.
Dread fills my veins as I look up at the neon sign.
The only reason I'm here, the only reason I dragged myself away from the safety of my apartment was to keep from arousing any suspicion. Who knows how long it will be until I can pull myself free? The only thing I can do right now is keep my head down and my eyes open.
Once I step into a pair of thigh-high stockings, it doesn't take long for the veneer to slip effortlessly into place, for Rose open her eyes once more.
She belongs in a place like this, under hazy stage lights and the veil of anonymity.
I don't.
And tonight, beneath a painted face, it's like a layer of skin has been peeled back, and beneath it I'm goddamn brand new.
I finally see that even though I love to dance, to feel wanted and desired, that Blush is no longer the glamorous, razzle-dazzle utopia I once thought it was. I see it now for what it really is: filled to the brim with this city's filth-the men who think they run this town like it's a toy to be played with. A den fuelled by power and blood money, a place where a fistful of hundreds can buy you anything you desire.
Tia smiles at me as I step off stage. "Got the whole place eating outta your palm."
I am the queen of this filthy place.
The music continues to thump around us, the air filled with the smell of seduction and money, greed and power. "Well, as long as they put the bills in my hand, I don't care what they do," I admit with a forced smile.
Tia gives me a look that says tell me about it. "Right? Like, if you could stop telling me how pretty I am and tip me, that would be great. Some of these guys are all talk and no action."
I nod, wishing myself back to the time when I was as clueless as Tia is.
"Oh, I almost forgot, you have Tyler in three," she yells over the noise around us. "Hey, did you hear about Tania?"
Tania's name snaps me out of my morose inner monologue. The last I saw of her she was watching as a handsome banker slipped one hand into my bra as the other stuffed a hundred dollar bill into my underwear.
Just her name makes my blood simmer.
"What about her?"
Tia's hands dance in the air between us. "She's disappeared."
"What? Since when?"
"A few of the guys said no one's seen her for a few days now. Not since Thursday or something."
Thursday. The same night I saw her.
"You think she left?" I ask, popping a piece of gum into my mouth.
Tia shrugs, adjusting her corset top. Her breasts bounce and jiggle. "Maybe."
Her voice says yes, but her face says no because she and I both know Tania would never leave Nick.
The music changes, and she's called onto stage. "They're all yours now," I say, gesturing to the club full of men waiting for her, salivating, panting.
Ready.
Heels dangling from my fingers, I smile down at my phone, reading the text messages from Harry throughout the night. They're far from romantic poems, but just knowing he's thinking of me is enough.
I push the door to the locker room open, and a girlish yelp startles me, snatching my attention from my phone. Stick-thin legs balance on sky-high heels, her pale, pink-tinted skin translucent beneath the locker room lighting.
"Katie?"
She crosses her arms over her chest, looking down at her feet. She doesn't say anything as I step into the room, just shuffles farther away from the lockers, her eyes averted.
"What are you doing?"
My hand drops to my side as I take in the open door of my locker and my purse lying on the floor, its contents strewn across the cold cement. Tightening her arms across her thin torso, she shrugs. With a sniff Katie lifts her head, her bloodshot eyes finding mine. I wait for an answer, but when she simply looks at me like she doesn't care, I step closer. Katie flinches, stepping back, and every ounce of anger I have at her slips away.
Because this is Katie, the girl from some tiny place down south who probably has family who miss her and some love-struck boyfriend still waiting for her to come home. The girl is twenty going on forty and has seen too much and not done enough. This city has torn all of the goodness out of her.
"It's okay," I say quietly, holding out a hand. "Was...do you need something?"
She lifts a hand to push her dark hair out of her eyes. "Was seeing if you had a tampon"-she sniffs again-"you know, that time of the month."
Katie shifts from one foot to the other as she watches me bend down to pick up my purse.
I want to say something but all I can do is stand there looking at this once beautiful young girl. This broken doll, slip of a thing, whose gaze darts around the room, whose nose is red and raw, whose once sparkling eyes are now a dull and lifeless pale blue. I want to wrap her up and slap her and shake her and feed her.
She lifts her chin, her lips set into a stubborn line.
My palm opens for her, to her.
"Thanks," she snaps, snatching the tampon out of my hand.
"Katie."
I watch, helpless, as she teeters out of the locker room, slamming the door behind her.
I don't need to open my wallet to know there's fifty dollars missing.
"They got cameras back here?" says the guy with a smirk.
Squeezing his hand, I shrug gently. "'Course they do, honey. But it's just you and me in here, I promise."
"Right." He nods, smiling, his eyes making lazy passes over my chest. "Goddamn, you're the prettiest stripper I've ever seen."
I smile over my shoulder at him, thinking that with a face like his, a hot stripper is about as lucky as he's ever going to get. As drunk as he is, he keeps his hands to himself and spends a lot of money.
"Can you..." He swallows, palming himself through his jeans.
"Can I what, sweetheart?" I ask, rolling my hips seductively.
"Can you take your shoes off?"
I laugh a little. "Oh. Sure."
My arches and calves sigh as I slip my shoes off. "Better?" I ask, lifting a bare foot onto the seat beside him.
He nods, and I continue, keeping my bare feet as close to him as I can. I figure a little barefoot action is worth a little more, right?
"Give me your shoe," he says, eyeing my stiletto on the floor.
"O-okay."
The glitter-covered shoe sits gently in his palm for a moment, his eyes moving between it and me.
"You're so fucking hot," he says, and to be honest I'm not sure who he's talking to: me or the shoe. Lost for words, I try to maintain a semi-professional manner as he drags his tongue up the heel before sucking it into his mouth, his eyes still on me.
"You don't want me to clean that for you, hun?" I ask, leaning into his lap.
He shakes his head. "I like it dirty."
This time I can't help it, I laugh just a little. "You sure do."
It's always the ones who seem so normal who come up with something completely out of left field. Freaks come in all shapes and sizes, I guess.
Between weird shoe-licker guy and everything else that's going on, my thoughts bounce from one place to another all night. Tania. Katie. Leah. Nick. Harry. Cody -a thousand thoughts spinning out of control.
"Scarlet? In here."
My heart leaps at the sound of Nick's voice. I'd been hoping to avoid him for the night, but I guess that's just not going to happen.
"Close the door."
The lights in his office are dim, but even in the low light I can tell he's not his usual calm and collected self. Tonight his hair is a mess and the collar of his shirt is open, as if he's being tugging at it violently. His jaw slides from side to side, and even though he's sitting, it's like he can't stay still, his hands moving, fingers tapping, jaw grinding.
"I need you to work another private party next week."
"No."
He slides a palm over his sweaty forehead, slipping it back into his hair. "I'm sorry?"
"I said no."
Nick's smile fades, and the muscles in his jaw still for a moment as he looks at me over his desk. It's so quiet I can hear the clock on the wall ticking.
"Okay," he says with a shrug.
I'm almost too stunned to answer. "You... don't mind?"
"I said okay, didn't I?"
A cold finger of fear slips down my spine. I open my mouth to reply, but Nick turns, rifling through papers on his desk, dismissing me.
"You got big plans tomorrow night?"
Tia tosses me back my deodorant, which I slip into my bag before zipping it up. "No. Nothing special, why?"
"You have the weekend off. I figured you and Mystery Guy must have a fun weekend planned."
I shake my head, ignoring her blatant probing. "I don't have the weekend off." Standing, I shoulder my bag. "Do I?"
Tightening her ponytail, Tia shrugs. "Check the roster, babe. I might have been wrong, but I could have sworn you weren't on there for tomorrow or Sunday night."
That cold point of fear than had slithered down my spine earlier digs its claws in, and that nasty vindictive voice in the back of my head says "you knew this would happen."
Sure enough, the roster for the following two nights has been changed, and I've been crossed off for the entire weekend. With the house share of my tips and bar takings in my hand, I knock quietly on the office door. He's in there, Petey said as much. Still, he makes me wait.
I watch as each of the girls leaves for the night, or morning as it were. Passing me, Tia rests a hand on my shoulder. "You want me to wait?" she asks, anxious eyes peering over my head at the office door.
I debate it for a moment, but shake my head anyway. It's after four in the morning, and she has a little one to get home to. Plus, even though he thinks he's hidden in shadow, Pete's waiting by the back door, waiting to give Tia a ride home.
The office door opens just as Tia and Pete disappear.
"Make it quick," says Nick, throwing his jacket on.
"You took me off the roster this weekend?"
Nick pats his pockets, his head swiveling as he searches for something. "Got some girls coming from the Vegas club."
"Yeah, but...I need to work on the weekend. You know that."
He shrugs. "I need you to work a private party."
"That's not fair."
"Life isn't fair."
I have to snort. "You're going to talk to me about life not being fair? Fuck you, Nick."
He grins, running both hands through his dark hair. "What about this new boyfriend of yours, huh?" he says. "I'm sure he could give you money. What does he think of all this, anyway?"
"How did-"
He laughs, but rather than his usual maniacal sound, it's tired, bored almost. "You forget we have cameras everywhere, sweetheart. I saw your little moment the other week. It was touching. Really."
"Leave him out of this."
"I'm simply asking what your boyfriend thinks of your line of work. If he knows what you're willing to do for money." He smirks, shaking his head and looking me up and down. "Of course he does." A laugh edges its way into his voice. "I bet you're giving him and his buddies a real good deal."
"Shut up, Nick. I swear-"
He's in my face so fast I barely have time to raise my hands in defense. He grips my throat tightly. Not tight enough to cut off the air, but tight enough that I know he could if he wanted to. "Or what? You'll quit? You'll get your boyfriend to come beat me up?" Tears well in my eyes as I try to pull his hand from my neck. "What are you going to do, Scarlet?" he spits, his voice rising. "Nothing. That's what you're gong to do. Because if you bring that shit down on me I'll knock those perfect teeth of yours down your fucking throat."
He shoves me so hard I stumble back, knocking my thigh against a table. Something clatters to the ground behind me.
Coughing a little as fresh air hits my lungs, I suck in a huge breath.
"Get your shit and get the fuck out of my office."
* * *
"Harry ?"
His eyes flicker beneath pale eyelids, and his arms tighten around me gently.
"Can you tell your friend I'll meet him?" I whisper. "Tomorrow?"
He peels one eye open. "Tomorrow?" he rasps, surprised.
I nod.
After a moment he nods. "I'll set it up."
Jack is already seated at the table when we arrive the next day, his phone in his hands, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. He looks up as we near, two dimples forming as he smiles.
"Well, well," he says, standing to greet Harry and me. "You must be Scarlet."
Straightening my shoulders back, I nod, reaching for his hand. "I am."
His grin is sly but warm, the kind you can't help but return. "You didn't tell me she was so lovely, Harry."
Harry laughs. "I think I did, actually."
Jack clasps Harry's hand tightly, the two of them embracing in that almost violent hug that only guys can do. "You look good," he says, slapping a hand on his shoulder.
The two of them share few quiet words as I sit, and I can tell by the pink tips on Harry's ears they're talking about me. Trying to hide a smile, he slides into the seat beside me. I give him a questioning look, which he erases with a kiss to the back of my hand.
Jack looks surprised at the move, his eyebrows popping up over his sunglasses for just a breath.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Scarlet," says Jack, leaning forward onto his elbows. He slips his glasses off and tosses them onto the table. "I've heard a lot about you. Well, as much as Harry can say a lot about anything, I suppose." His blue eyes sparkle in the midday sun.
It's my turn to blush. "Well," I say, pressing a cool hand to my cheek, trying to calm the flush. "I'd say the same about you, but Harry hasn't told me much."
Wrinkles appear at the corners of Jack's eyes as he laughs. "No, I'd say he hasn't."
We're quiet a moment as the waitress deposits some water and menus on the table.
Dark blonde and thick-boned, Jack is broad and muscular-imposing. There's no mistaking the undercurrent of authority that runs beneath his smiling exterior. The set of his shoulders, the arch of his brow as he looks at the menu-he's a man that's used to getting his own way. I don't imagine he's used to hearing the word "no."
We make small talk for a while; Jack asks me more about Cody, about my job. Our lunch arrives, a mountain of steak and sides and large sparkling glasses of wine. Laughing at something Jack said, Harry drapes an arm over the back of my chair, his thumb brushing against my shoulder, and this is how it could be, this could be my life, this could be us.
I could be an us-a we.
My smile is barely hidden by the wine glass against my lips.
Of course, soon enough the conversation turns to our reason for being here. Jack listens, fingers brushing idly through this beard, as I explain my situation-although from the look on his face he already knows most of it anyway.
"Nick," Jack says, stopping to take a thoughtful breath, a deep line forming between his brows. "He's an interesting guy, to say the least-a real piece of work. I should know since we grew up together. Somewhere along the line he's come to believe he's untouchable. That the rules don't apply to him anymore."
"So, he's an asshole with a superiority complex," I say.
Jack grins knowingly, thumb and forefinger toying idly with his beard. "Exactly. And to be very honest, Scarlet, there are some of us who have been waiting for a good excuse to bring him down a peg or two. Show him that there are rules, and they're to be followed."
"Yeah, well, I'm a stripper. Assholes with superiority complexes I can deal with."
Jack laughs.
"But it's when those assholes carry a gun and threaten my family that the game changes."
"I understand your concerns. I've heard enough from Harry, and I know Nick well enough to know that you're walking a thin line." He frowns. "And don't be fooled Scarlet, Nick would have you killed in a second if he thought you were in the way."
The three of us are quiet.
I take a huge gulp of my drink. It's not an easy thing to hear that you're expendable.
Jack gives me a minute, pretending to look at the menu beneath his hands.
Harry doesn't bother with pretense. With hands clasped together tightly, he rests his elbows on the table. "We're going to make sure that doesn't happen." He turns to me. "He won't touch you again."
Jack signals the waitress. "No, he won't. I can promise you that."
The waitress takes our orders, spending half the time looking at her notepad and the other half staring at Jack.
But he hardly notices, waving her off the moment she's finished writing the order. "Thank you," he says with a smile. She mumbles a quiet answer and scampers off to the kitchen.
"I know Nick makes it hard for his girls," continues Jack. "And I know that while he talks a lot of shit, he's also not afraid to get a little dirty."
He glances at Harry for a moment, and then back to me.
"Harry tells me you think Nick had something to do with a co-workers disappearance? Leah, was it?"
The pleasant wine buzz I'd been swimming in evaporates. "I think so."
Jack and Harry are quiet, Jack's thumb and forefinger capturing his bottom lip.
"Well, we did a little digging. Asked around."
My hand begins to shake so hard I have to put my glass down. Something about Jack's expression tells me he knows exactly what happened to her, and now that I'm this close to finding out, I'm not sure I want to know.
Frowning, Jack runs a finger over the white tablecloth, and it's then that I notice the eight black X's tattooed onto the back of his knuckles. Like a score. A tally.
"Part of my...job, if you could call it that, is to know when things like that happen. Nick thought he was smart using someone out of town to do his dirty work, but as usual he fucked that up."
God. Dirty work. He makes it sound like nothing. Like taking out the garbage.
"So...Leah is..."
Jack looks across the table at me sadly. "Buried out by Red Rocks. Outside Vegas."
I hadn't realized how much I'd been holding on to hope until the truth comes crashing down.
Dead.
Harry pulls me into his side, pressing his lips against my temple gently. "I'm sorry."
As nice as it is to have him close, the air around me suddenly feels stifling. My skin feels clammy and hot. I press a hand to his chest, gently pushing myself away, out of his orbit.
"Look." I stop, swallowing down two huge gulps of wine. "I'm not going to pretend to know what you do. To be honest, at this point I don't really care. But Harry seems to think you might know a way for me to get out of Blush without Nick coming after me like he did Leah. I need to know if that's true."
"It's true."
I take a moment for Jack's answer to settle in.
"I have a son. I won't do anything that puts him in danger."
"You won't."
"And there are others. Other girls."
Jack's face softens in sympathy, and my heart breaks just a little more.
"I can only do so much, Scarlet. Short of shutting the club down and starting a war that would destroy the city and put people I love in danger, we need to be smart about this. I need to talk to some people I know first, but-"
"He knows where I live, Jack. Where I work during the week. I have to assume he knows where Cody goes to preschool. If I'm going to do this, I have to know that he's not going to come after me. That I won't have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder."
Jack leans forward, elbows on he tabletop. "I'm not going to lie to you-it won't be easy. The answer might mean giving up everything you know right now. But if you'll let me, I'll do everything I can to not only get you out of Blush, but to take Nick down at the same time."
The hope that I had for an easy resolution ebbs at Jack's words. This is bigger than I'd ever expected it to be.
"Everything you've done up until now has been for Cody," says Harry quietly. "This is no different. I know you're scared, but this is for him as much as you."
"Give me some time," adds Jack. "A week or so to sort a few things out, and then I promise we'll have something for you."
A week.
One week and I can walk out of Blush and never look back. Get my life back.
My head spins, trying its best to process and keep up. With the wine and the sun and all this new information it feels like it's about to start pouring out of my ears.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"I wouldn't have asked you to come if you couldn't trust us, Scarlet," says Harry.
Jack smiles. "She's right to ask though. Smart, too. I can see why you like her, Harry." He pauses as the waitress again stops by to fill our water glasses. Her flirting with both Harry and Jack is not even close to subtle. "Essentially, I'm doing this because I'm a selfish man, Scarlet. Apart from the fact that removing Nick from the picture makes good business sense for me"-he stops to smile lightly-"I'm doing this because Harry is like family to me. And my family look after their own."
"Must be nice to have family like that."
Harry's hand tightens on my shoulder.
"It is," says Jack. "As you're about to find out."
Later that night, Cody and I sit at the kitchen table as Harry unloads takeout.
"Can I sit on your lap, Momma?" asks Cody from beside me. His fingers creep over the edge of the tabletop as he watches Harry.
"Hop up," I reply, scooting my chair back a little so he can climb into my lap.
Harry unpacks the delivery of Chinese, the smell of greasy food making my mouth water. I smile as he sneaks a spring roll into Cody's waiting hands, throwing him a wink.
"It smells amazing," I say, tipping some rice onto a plate. "Thank you. You want chopsticks, Code?"
Cody shakes his head, shoving the other half of the spring roll into his mouth.
"So..."
I smile around a forkful of food, my other hand keeping Cody still in my lap. "So?"
"What did you think?"
"Think of what, Momma?" asks Cody.
"Harry and I went for lunch today, and it was lovely. Thank you, Harry."
"Did you eat hamburgers?"
"No, no hamburgers."
"But they is Harry's most favorite."
Both Harry and I chuckle. "They are," I say. "But they didn't have hamburgers."
We're all quiet for a moment save for the sound of eating. Harry continues to watch me from across the table, patiently waiting for an answer to his question.
"So, I think I'll wait for Jack to get back to me with a plan and...go from there."
Harry's mouth twists as he tries not to smile.
"Good," he says.
I laugh. "Good."