Trashy (11 page)

“That’s not your last first with me, sweetheart,” he murmured and brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face.

I hoped not. I truly did. It scared me how much I wanted more firsts with Adam. I hadn’t wanted anything or anyone so much since I met Craig all those years ago.

A little jolt of panic zinged around inside me with the thought. But then I felt my hand tucked inside Adam’s, safe as he led me through the crowd toward the table the hostess escorted us to. And yeah, maybe I noticed the hostess note the way he caressed my lower back, gently motioning for me to slide into the booth before he moved to sit across from me.

Adam wasn’t Craig.

I couldn’t even define what was between us, but even still, he made me feel like I was the only woman in the room.

To any other girl, a guy acting like they were proud to have you on their arm was probably nothing new.

But for me…

For me it was everything.

Adam

It was physically painful to sit across the table from her and resist the urge to touch her. I felt like I was back in high school all over again, just discovering the world of women.

And shit, I wanted to discover Roxie. I wanted to know every last detail about her, right down to the little sounds she made when I entered her.

Thoughts like that would only make it harder to sit here. I grabbed up my southern sweet iced tea and took a drink, telling myself to calm the fuck down. My hormones might be on overdrive, but sex wasn’t the only thing I wanted from her.

Right now, I really wanted to know why the hell she looked so tired and where her mind would wander every so often. It was starting to worry me. I wanted to demand she tell me everything, but demanding anything from her would be a mistake.

Roxie didn’t like pushy. She didn’t like pressure; that much was obvious. I knew it was likely because that douche bag of an ex did a number on her.

If she didn’t tell me, I was going to have to call Harlow. The circles under her eyes were unacceptable.

“You ready for tonight?” I asked, putting my tea back on the table.

She was swirling her straw around the soda she ordered. “I hope so,” she replied.

“I’ll be there tonight. I can introduce you around make sure everyone knows you’re the boss.”

She smiled. “How’s the new club coming?”

“Good. Almost done. As soon as I have you trained, I’m going to start spending a lot of time over there.”

Was that disappointment that flashed behind her eyes? I snatched her hand up off the table and rubbed my thumb across the back of her fingers. “Don’t worry,
Rox. I’ll still have time for you.”

She glanced up from the soda. “You mean in case I have any questions about work?”

I shook my head slowly. “I think you know what I mean.”

The sound of a ringing phone interrupted whatever her response would have been. It was close and a little low, so I figured it had to be hers and it was in her bag.

She stiffened but otherwise made no move to answer.

I was glad because I wanted her all to myself.

The waitress came and delivered my sizzling tray of steak fajitas with all the fixins and a burger and fries for Roxie.

I liked a girl who ate. Most women ordered salad because they were always on a damn diet. I tried to tell ‘
em real men liked curves, but all the stick-thin models being broadcast all over TV made them think different.

It was a damn shame.

I watched in amusement as Roxie poured a huge amount of ketchup beside her fries, dunked one in, and took a bite. She made a little sigh of appreciation that had my loins tightening.

“You
gonna have some fries with that ketchup?” I teased.

She popped the rest of the fry in her mouth. “You cannot eat fries without ketchup. Lots of it.”

“If that’s the way you like it, baby.”

A change came over her, not really a visible one, but something shifted in the air. I looked up from the massive fajita I was assembling and saw her swallow thickly. “What is it?” I asked, automatically scanning the area around us for someone who appeared threatening.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Huh?” I asked, surprised I was the one who caused the change.

“Baby,” she said, clearing her throat. “I don’t like it.”

She didn’t like being called baby? What the fuck did that asshole do to her?

I tilted my head to the side. “How about sweetheart?”

She smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “I like that one.”

“Sweetheart it is.”

She went back to drowning her fries in ketchup, and I devoured my first fajita. Her phone started ringing again.

“Maybe you should get that,” I said around a bite of steak.

She pulled her bag into her lap. It was so damn big it looked like a suitcase.

“What the hell do you need that giant sack for?” I asked.

She gave me a look that would wilt the weak. Good thing I wasn’t weak. “It’s not a sack, and it’s for essentials.”

“Essentials?” I echoed, wondering what the fuck she thought of as essential.

The phone continued to ring as she searched around the endless bag of “essentials,” looking for it. The tone cut off and she paused in searching.

Then it started ringing again.

“Maybe it’s an emergency,” I said.

Roxie pulled out a handful of crap and laid it on the table and continued to search out her phone. When she found it, she said, “Ah-ha!” like it was some sort of major victory.

I thought it was cute as hell.

Her face paled slightly when she looked at the screen. Then she hit a button, silenced the ring, and dropped it back into the sack. “I don’t recognize the number,” she said.

She was lying.

A bad feeling wormed its way into my gut.

“Roxie,” I intoned.

She pretended she was busy scooping up the items on the table to put back. As she did, a torn piece of paper fluttered toward my plate.

It was a note that read,
Call me
.

Two words never incited so much jealousy.

I snatched it up before she could. I had no idea who it was from, but instantly, I didn’t like them. “You have an admirer?”

“No,” she said, reaching for the paper.

That bad feeling reared up again, and I knew. “Is he bothering you again?”

“Adam…”

“Is he the reason you don’t want me to call you baby?” I pressed.

“Does it matter?” she whispered.

“I think it does,” I replied.

The scrap of paper fell between us on our table. It might as well have been the Grand Canyon. Just like that, she pulled away. So far away she was nearly unreachable.

“You know you’re safe with me, right?” I said, leaning across the table.

Roxie snatched up the paper and crumpled it into a ball before dropping it back in her sack.

“And I don’t mean that in a totally romantic comedy type of way.”

That earned me a smile.

“You are safe with me that way too,” I added. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” I knew she was listening even though she kept her eyes away from mine. So I continued. “I’m talking about the kind of safety where you can tell me anything. The kind of safety where nothing you say will ever change the way I see you.”

“How do you see me, Adam?” she asked. Damn if that vulnerable piece of her wasn’t visible in her eyes.

“I see you as completely lovable, every last part of you.”

“I have scars you can’t see.” I noted the small catch in her voice.

“We all do, sweetheart,” I said, laying my hand palm up on the table between us. I wiggled my fingers, inviting her.

She wavered.

“Your scars are beautiful, Rox, just like the rest of you. Your scars mean you were stronger than whatever—
whoever
—tried to hurt you.”

She
slid her hand into mine.

Victory.

I gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling back. “Eat your ketchup,” I ordered and snagged a strip of steak off my plate and dunked it in her red stuff before shoving it in my mouth.

I winced. “That’s basically a crime against good meat,” I said as I chewed.

She laughed and started to eat.

“So how did you end up a business man?” she asked.

I rolled with the topic change because I knew trying to talk about the note and her ex wouldn’t go so well. Besides, it was a conversation we needed to have in private.

“You mean how the hell did I end up owning a strip club?” I rephrased the question.

“Yeah.” Roxie grinned.

“It sort of just happened.” I shrugged, thinking about where my life was supposed to go.

She tilted her head and waited for me to continue. I worked on making up the rest of my fajitas as I talked.

“I used to play football.”

“Like in high school?” she asked.

I nodded. “I started in sixth grade. Played all through high school. It was my entire life.”

I still remembered the rush I got every time I ran out onto the field, the crowd was roaring from the stands.

“Were you any good?”

“Was I any good?” I scoffed. “I was the fucking bomb.”

“Were you now?” she asked, amused.

“I wanted to go pro, be in the NFL.”

“I had no idea,” she said, picking up her soda to sip at it.

I shrugged. “I don’t talk about it much.”

“So what happened?”

“I got a full ride to LSU. Got tapped by them before I even graduated high school. The plan was to go to college, make a name for myself on the field, and get drafted before I even completed my degree.”

“You went to LSU?” she asked.

“For almost two years,” I said, abandoning my plate and thinking back to the moment that changed my life forever. Most people can’t pinpoint the exact time nothing would ever be the same again. But I could. “I got injured, tore my ACL, had to have some surgeries. My dream of the NFL went down the drain the second I heard that tendon snap.”

“Adam,” Roxie said, her voice full of empathy.

“I lost my scholarship. My first wife… It was a dark period in my life,” I said, not wanting to relive those first few weeks when I realized I wouldn’t be playing football again.

“You were married in college?” she asked.

I nodded. “Married my high school sweetheart. I was the quarterback; she was the head cheerleader. She came to LSU with me and we got married. Turns out she didn’t really love me. She only loved the future NFL pro. When she realized that wasn’t going to be in my future, she decided she wasn’t going to be either.”

“What a bitch,” Roxie said.

I grinned. “So I left college, took a bunch of business classes, and moved here. I bought the Mad Hatter not too long after, and here I am.”

“It must have been a lot of work to make the club as successful as it is today,” Roxie said, giving me a smile.

I shoved the rest of the last fajita into my mouth and regarded her as I chewed. After I swallowed, I said, “I don’t shy away from hard work. If I want something, I won’t stop until it’s mine.”

And I want you.

By the fine blush that spread across her cheeks, I knew she caught my double meaning.

At least she couldn’t say I didn’t warn her.

Roxie

He wouldn’t stop calling.

He was getting more persistent. I knew by the way Adam looked at me he was suspicious.

Why wouldn’t Craig just go away? He made me feel claustrophobic, like I couldn’t breathe, like I could barely move.

All I wanted was for him to let me go so I could fully move on. It seemed like every time I took two steps forward, he’d pull me back one. I felt like a hamster on a wheel, running and running but never getting anywhere.

I was tired.

It was hard to sit across from Adam and fully enjoy spending time with him, because my inner thoughts kept thinking about my past and how it was bleeding into my present and threatening my future.

After we finished lunch, we parted ways, Adam going home to change out of his jeans and T-shirt and me coming home to change as well. Harlow still wasn’t home when I got here. She must have been getting ready for work at Cam’s today.

Being in this empty apartment was slightly unnerving. All I could think about was last night and how Craig followed me.

Don’t let him take away your home.
I willed myself.

I would not let Craig make me scared to be here.

I had a little time before I needed to be back at the club, so I plugged in a large-barrel curling iron to let it heat while I got dressed. For my first night as acting manager of the Mad Hatter, I put on a fitted black skirt that was short enough to look sexy, but not short enough to be unprofessional. Maybe this skirt wouldn’t have been appropriate if I worked at a bank, but I didn’t. I worked at a strip club, and even as manager, I wanted to look good.

Over the skirt, I added a fitted white tank top and a black lace T-shirt. I put on my black heels and then went in the bathroom to apply some makeup and attack my hair. Getting my dark, straight strands to hold a curl was challenging, sometimes impossible. Harlow taught me a trick though to help, and I pulled out a can of setting spray. As I sectioned off lengths of hair, I
spritzed it with the spray and then wound my hair around the heated barrel. After holding it in place for long seconds, I slid it out to reveal and perfect spiral. I sprayed it with even more spray and then let it cool as I went to work repeating the process over and over until all my strands were curled.

When I was done and all the curls were cooled and the hairspray was dry, I flipped my head upside down and loosened the coils with my fingertips. Amazingly, I achieved the effect I was going for. Large, loose, shiny curls fell over my shoulders and back. I really hoped the style held tonight.

I wanted to look pretty. For Adam.

After giving my hair yet another squirt of hairspray, I added some deep-pink lipstick, smiling a little remembering how Adam had looked with it smeared on his mouth.

Before heading for the door, I grabbed a cropped, lightweight red jacket that looked like leather but wasn’t and slid it on. My hair took longer than I thought it would, so I rushed toward the door, not wanting to be late.

I flung open the door to rush outside but stopped short when I nearly collided with something standing in the doorway of the apartment.

I gasped loudly as my heart leapt into my throat. My hand gripped the wooden doorframe to keep myself from tumbling over with the force of my halt.

It was Craig.

He looked at me through dark lashes. “Hey, baby.”

My stomach tightened and this sick feeling came over me. I did not want to see him right now.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “And what the hell have you been following me around for?”

He acted like he didn’t notice my bitchy tone. But I knew it was an act. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

The corners of his eyes tightened. “I just
wanna talk, Roxie. I came by last night. I asked you to call me.”

I snorted. “You didn’t come by,” I snapped. “You were creeping around like some weirdo.”

He sighed and pushed past me into the apartment. I thought about taking off my shoe and giving him a good whack with the heel. I didn’t want him here. “Please go.” I didn’t shut the door. I left it open and kept myself rooted right beside it.

Craig turned. His hands were casually draped in his jeans and he rolled his hips forward as he walked closer. Damn him for looking so good. Damn me for noticing.

“I miss you, baby,” he said, his voice low as he stopped just in front of me. “You look real good.”

It wasn’t going to work. Not this time. I wasn’t going to fall for this. He might be my first love, the keeper of a lot of my firsts, but he wasn’t going to be my only.

“It’s over, Craig. We aren’t getting back together. Stop calling me. Stop following me. You aren’t welcome here.”

“Roxie.” The way he spoke my name was almost like an admonishment, like we both knew that what I just told him was a lie. Like we both knew when he turned up the charm, I’d come rushing back into our old patterns.

I lifted my chin and stared at him. I looked him straight in the eyes, not wavering at all. I wanted him to see it. I wanted him to know this time was different.

He must have seen what I intended.

Unfortunately, it pissed him off.

His baby blues went flat and hard. At his sides, his hands fisted. “It’s him, isn’t it?” he intoned.

“What?” I asked, standing my ground even though I wanted to take a step back.

“Are you fucking him?” Craig growled, angry. He was a possessive guy, and it wasn’t really in a protective sort of way. It was a selfish, controlling kind of possession he harbored.

“No,” I said, recoiling. I knew he was talking about Adam. Adam was the only other man I’d ever really looked at since high school.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” he snapped and shoved me against the door. Because it was open, the force of my body pushed it back and it banged against the wall.

“I’m not!” I insisted. He was pinning me against the wood, his hand on my throat. I felt his fingers wrapped around me and I knew I was only one hard squeeze away from not being able to breathe.

My body wanted to tense up. My heart was beating so hard it hurt. Panic pushed through my blood vessels, wanting to take over my entire body.

But I couldn’t let it.

Showing him I was scared only made it worse.

If he was going to hit me, if he was going to threaten me this way, then I would act like I didn’t care. I wouldn’t bow down to him. Not ever.

“I saw you,” he growled, shoving his face right up to mine. The putrid scent of lingering liquor on his breath made my stomach churn. God, I hated that smell.

It was the scent of anger, abuse. If Craig had been drinking before he came here, then this wasn’t going to end well. It wouldn’t matter what I said. Talking him down was almost impossible when he was drunk.

I never knew alcohol could make a person mean. Even though I worked in a bar, I was now severely uncomfortable with drunk men. They were unpredictable. It brought out the truth in them… It brought out their dark sides.

It was always something I could keep hidden, the way my body reacted around a drunk man. At the club, it was always under control. Adam wouldn’t put up with any kind of disrespect, and everyone knew it and the bouncers enforced it.

But I wasn’t at the Mad Hatter. There was no bouncer to make sure Craig behaved.

“What the hell were you at the club so early for today?” he accused. “All alone in that building with him. With the boss. How long have you been doing him?”

I shook my head.

He pulled me away from the door and then slammed me back into it. My shoulders took the brunt of the hit and my back stung.

“I’m not sleeping with Adam!” I insisted. “He’s my boss. He gave me a promotion.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“A promotion, huh? You’re a little slut. Blowing the boss for more cash. You’re nothing but trash.”

Anger lit through me. How dare he talk to me like this! “Get your hands off me,” I growled, looking right into his eyes.

His hand tightened around my throat, threatening to crush my windpipe. “Come on, fucker,” I taunted. “Do it.”

His eyes flared. Instead of doing what I challenged, he yanked me away from the door again. My feet skidded across the floor as I tried to gain some traction. His hand left my throat and he gripped me by the shoulders. His fingers cut into my arms even through my clothes, and I winced.

“You’re mine. We aren’t done. No one else is allowed to touch you,” he hollered. He began to shake me, like he could somehow talk some sense into me.

“Stop it.” I gasped as my head rolled on my shoulders with the force of his shoves.

“I swear to God, if I see you with him again, I will fucking kill him.”

Fear like none other slammed in to me. The thought of him hurting Adam made me physically sick, and I gagged. How dare he threaten Adam! It was sad, but I’d grown accustomed to his threats against me, but threatening someone else because of me… this was new.

He continued to shake me. My teeth rattled. I reached out to steady myself, taking fistfuls of his T-shirt. “Stop,” I stuttered, grasping him.

Craig gave me one last shove, and I heard a snap. I stumbled back when he let go of me, and I glanced down at my hand. The gold chain he always wore around his neck was dangling from my palm. It had been caught in the shirt when I grabbed it and his shove made the chain break.

Horror filled me.
Oh no.

I looked up at Craig. His eyes were wide and angry. His nostrils flared as he looked at his broken possession. Then he tore his gaze away from it and pinned me with a hot stare.

“It was an accident,” I swore. “You shoved me.”

Craig gave an angry shout and snatched the chain out of my palm. “You’re going to pay for this.” He snarled and grabbed me by the front of my shirt.

“I can get it fixed,” I vowed, hating the way I rushed to make it right. This was his fault, but my bravado was gone. I was scared now. He was pissed.

He dragged me across the room and threw me on the couch. My back hit the front and bowed around it. Pain exploded, but I didn’t have time to think about it because he picked me up and tossed me onto the cushions and straddled my hips. The slap he delivered across my face stung and made my eyes water. I turned my head, letting my hair cover my face and eye as I stared at the plain-colored couch cushions as the ache radiated across my cheekbone.

“You think you can go out with him and me not know!” he roared. “You think you can straddle the back of his bike and press yourself against him and me not know! You’re trying to make a fool out of me!” he snapped. “I won’t have it.”

He grabbed my chin, squeezing and forcing my head around so I had to stare up into his angry face.

How can someone so good-looking be so ugly?

I didn’t say anything even though I wanted to yell. There was a difference between bravery and stupidity. He was sitting on me, pinning me down. Whatever I said right now would only make it worse.

“Do you understand me?” he said, chest heaving.

I nodded as his fingers dug into my jaw.

He got up abruptly. His weight leaving me was such a relief. I scrambled up to my feet, pushing my hair out of my face and glaring at him.

He threw the chain at me. It hit me in the stomach and fell at my feet. “I want that fixed. Today.”

“I want you out of my life.” My voice was deadly calm, utterly serious. I couldn’t do this anymore. I wouldn’t.

His eyes narrowed. He stalked toward me. My body prepared itself for another blow. “You want him that bad?”

“This has nothing to do with Adam,” I ground out.

“Don’t you fucking say his name to me!” he roared. I winced and my ears rang. Surely, the neighbors could hear him… Why wasn’t anyone helping?

“You make me sick,” he said, his voice quieter. “I thought you were better than that.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about. How could he imply that any attraction I might feel toward Adam was wrong? Adam was ten times the man he would ever be.

He heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll let you go.”

My eyes snapped up to his. I wanted so desperately to believe what I just heard.

He chuckled. “The desperation in your eyes is not a good look,” he spat.

“What do you want?” I asked. I didn’t care if I sounded desperate. I was.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, his voice finally back in control. “Do it and you won’t have to see me again.”

I clung to this sudden ribbon of hope, even though I knew it was probably a lie.

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and withdrew a business card and extended it to me. I took it but didn’t look away from him. I wanted to be aware of what he was doing at all times.

“In two days, be at that address. The time is on there. Come dressed like the trash you are and be ready to perform.”

Perform?

A sinking, sick feeling settled in my gut.
Oh no…