Vivid Lies (5 page)

"What is going on?" I ask, my voice raspy.
 

"Found this guy sleeping outside your door," Kane says. His eyes run up my bare legs, over my thin shirt and back up to my face. "You know him?"

I nod. I'm not surprised to find Miles here. It's Kane whom I'm shocked to see.
 

"You know this guy?" Miles is looking between us, confused and angry. His eyes take the same path as Kane's did. "You should go inside."

"I did a shoot with him, and I would be inside if you two weren't arguing in the hallway like kids," I snap.
 

"I came last night in the storm," Miles says, trying to guide me back inside. "You didn't hear me knocking so I waited. And this asshole starts giving me shit for being here."

"You look like some damn creeper waiting outside their apartment."

Kane and Miles glare at each other, both looking ready to throw punches.
 

"How do you know Brooklyn? What are you doing here?" I ask Kane, leaning around Miles.
 

"Met her at Stephanie's. I live down the hall."

Of course he would be the guy Brooklyn danced for. I feel stupid that I even thought for a second that he was here for me. Now I remember why he looked so familiar when I saw him on the beach. I just about plowed him over in a rush as he got off the elevator that morning.
 

"Great, so he's seen you almost naked," Miles mumbles. "Inside please."

"I'm London," I snap, irritated at being bossed around. "He saw Brooklyn almost naked. Not me."

"I know who the fuck you are," Miles growls and I freeze to stare at him.

Miles has never raised his voice at me in all our disagreements. He is understanding, calm, and easy going. Now, he is aggravated, possessive, and losing his patience with me. The soothing blue I always saw him as was shifting to a dark green. Still beautiful but unknown, like a dark forest.
 

"Let go of her," Kane interrupts. His large frame comes closer, making me feel trapped and tiny between the two men.
 

The tension in the hallway is thick and heavy. I force a smile and put a hand on Miles's chest to calm him. It seems to work because I feel the muscles under my hand relax.

"Thank you, Kane, but I'm okay. He's a friend," I tell him, looking up into his dark eyes.
 

Kane's jaw ticks as he looks between me and Miles, trying to read us both. I can finally breathe when he takes a slow step back.

"You sure?" he asks me again, watching Miles closely.
 

"Yes. Thank you. See ya around."

I shove Miles back into my apartment, shutting Kane out in the hall. He has the decency to look slightly guilty when I glare at him.
 

"What the hell was that all about?" I hiss quietly, not wanting to wake Brooklyn.
 

"That guy was an asshole. He has no business with you."

I run my fingers through my hair and realize just how knotted it really is. My fingers get caught and I'm sure it looks like one of those cheap wigs you get for Halloween that never get untangled.
 

"He knows Brooklyn, Miles. And he's a neighbor. You didn't need to go all caveman."

"The hell I didn't," he almost shouts. "Did you see the way he looked at you?"

"No," I deadpan. "You're acting crazy."

Miles mumbles something under his breath and starts to pace. I shuffle awkwardly and watch him helplessly. The last time I saw him this worked up, it was our last night in Tennessee.
 

"Miles?"

He stops and meets my eyes immediately. I smile at the familiar warmth I see in them.
 

My heart starts to race when I see them darken.
 

My heart stops when he starts toward me.
 

My heart explodes when he grabs my face and his lips touch mine.
 

There's an assault on my senses. Underneath the shock and panic, there's comfort and excitement. His scent wraps around me and I'm reminded of all the good things about home.
 

The humid summer nights spent staring up at the stars. The whispered stories shared in the tree house. The hours of watching movies when we didn't want to go back home. Unbreakable bonds cemented in bad times and good.
 

It's all Miles. He is everything good in our life. I feel it in his warmth and taste it from his mouth.
 

His hands are framing my face as he gently tastes my lips. The pressure is light but I feel it in every cell of my body. I sink into him and he sighs into my mouth.
 

For the second time in just an hour, I feel like I'm on fire. This burn is very different though. Heat zips through my body, making my lips tingle and my head hazy.
 

I open my mouth and Miles takes his chance, deepening our kiss into something far beyond our simple friendship. The way his tongue tangles with mine isn't friendly. His hands move and fist my hair, pulling my head back. I whimper, feeling myself melt into him. I feel like I am caught in the flames and turning into a puddle as though I'm made of wax.
 

When I press harder into his body, Miles pulls away. His breathing is heavy and his eyes are so dark I can barely see the pupils. I lick my sensitive lips, looking at his that glisten from my mouth.
 

"You kissed me," I whisper, blurting the first thing that comes to my mind. My cheeks flame immediately.
 

"I did."

Miles pulls away as if he needs the distance to think or control himself.
 

"I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that," he says, still backing away.
 

Miles rubs his face roughly and I touch my lips. They feel full, like all the blood rushed to them, wanting some of the sensations he was giving me. My brain is in shock, unable to process what just happened.
 

"Don't overthink," he tells me, panicking at my stunned silence. He comes back to me and pulls me against his chest. "We don't have to change."

"I don't want to change." A fear wraps around my heart when I think about Miles no longer in my life.
 

"I won't lose you." The words are whispered in my hair.
 

"Never."

Miles kisses the top of my head and lets me go, pushing me away from him slightly for good measure.
 

"I should go," he says. "Just stay away from that guy. Please. Please tell Brooklyn to stay away."

I laugh softly. "You know damn well I can't tell her to do anything."

"Please try," he pleads. I soften at the desperation on his face.
 

"I'll try."
I won't.

Miles pulls the door open and checks the hall before looking back at me.
 

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't think. Let's just forget that happened."

Before I can respond, he's gone. I stare at the closed door with its chipped white paint covering what was once a mustard color. I feel like that door. Slapping a fresh coat of paint over it doesn't change what's underneath.
 

I wonder how everything got flipped over in just one morning.
 

Brooklyn

Jealousy can eat away at your soul. It's a sin I'm far too familiar with. Growing up, it was just another feeling. Like hunger, boredom, or happiness. I felt like I was drowning in it sometimes.
 

I would watch Miles with his mom and wonder why I couldn't have a mom, too. The kids with parents at the choir concerts or parent conferences had something I didn't. I wished I had parents who cared. Someone who cared enough to put me in dance lessons or buy London her first camera.
 

Jealousy put up a white picket fence around me, keeping those who had it all out. I hated that black feeling that rested deep inside me.
 

At some point we realized no one was going to give us the things we wished for. Wishes were called wishes for a reason. They were dreams and wants made of fairy dust. Our wants and aspirations were the things we could give to ourselves. I felt like every smile and achievement was fought for. Two little girls shouldn't have needed to fight so hard.
 

Thankfully, I was born with a teammate. I have something not many others have, and that's another to fight with me. Someone who has my back no matter what happens and would never give up on me. London is half my strength. She is half my bravery and passion even though she thinks that's all me.
 

And because I am a resourceful, I find myself in the parking garage a couple of hours before my shift. I'm in the platform heels I plan to wear tonight. There's a reason they are called stripper heels. I just wish I knew that little tip before I took the stage the other night. Lesson learned.
 

I make sure no one is around as I walk over to the pole I found the other night. It's not in the most glamorous location, next to the dumpster, but it's all I've got right now. As I approach, I notice there's something different.
 

I run my hand over the fresh, smooth paint. It's no longer chipping away and rough to hold. The smell of spray paint lingers faintly in the damp garage.
 

Kane must have painted the pole since he was the only one who knew that I used it.

I don't spend too much time evaluating his motives. I use the little time I have to make sure I can pull off my dance tonight. I throw my body around the pole and glide easily, without the pain this time. I make it through my planned routine three times before I need to leave.
 

I drive to the club, trying to catch the sunset along the way. I love watching the day fade into night. The night always felt like it was my time. When we were teenagers, I would climb out our window when London was asleep. I would sit by the pond or go walk around, just enjoying the alone time.
 

The club is busy when I push through the heavy doors. I weave my way through the guys waiting at the bar and into the back room. I scan the stage schedule, praying I'm still in on it after my fall the other night. I'm surprised to see I am up after Candy, and then I can work the floor giving lap dances or dance in the VIP.
 

Here, you either serve or you perform. Some girls do both, some only perform, and some only serve. The girls get to request their nights and what they will do for the night. The powers that be either approve or don't. Stage time is harder to get, as they only want the best out there.
 

I slip into my outfit, a leather vest that shows off my stomach and plenty of cleavage with matching hot shorts. In the mirror, I pull my hair up into a high ponytail and put on red lipstick. I see Candy brush by me quickly and I know it's her turn.
 

I stare at my reflection and breathe through my nerves. My green eyes are wide and full of fear, but I tell myself I've got this. I imagine London's voice reminding me how much I practiced and how hard I worked. London is the voice in my head usually. It calms me enough that I force myself to the stage just in time to catch the end of Candy's routine.

"Good luck," she says as she steps past me, her discarded clothes in her arms.

The lights go dark and I'm announced as Brooke. I don't even mind it this time. It feels better going up there as someone else and not Brooklyn. I take my place with the pole in my hands while I wait for the music to begin.

When the first few beats come, I look up into the faceless crowd and pretend I know what I'm doing. I move like I there's no possible way I will fail. I take my time, showing off my legs and teasing them. I bend backwards and twirl around the pole, loving the way the men cheer me on.
 

When the vest hits the floor, I feel invincible. I possess a body strength I didn't know I had as I hold myself upside down on the pole. A fire rips through my veins with the rush. I rip the buttons open on the shorts and they join the money littering the stage floor. More bills get tucked into my thong as I tease the men and few women up in front.
 

I perform the dance without a single mistake and I'm panting by the time my set ends. I gather my clothes and money without looking back at all the people who saw me mostly naked. The cool air of the hallway to the dressing room feels amazing on my skin. Feeling high, I get dressed again and touch up my makeup before heading back out.

I feel his eyes on me the moment I clear the curtain and step onto the floor. My eyes are still adjusting to the dim light, but I know Kane is here somewhere. My body heats and my blood rushes faster, my excitement reaching a new high. This is reason why I do this. The rush and the power.
 

At the bar, I grab a shot and watch the crowd. Another girl is on stage and she's killing it. My eyes wander over to the table Kane sat at the night I met him.
 

He's there. Watching me with a dark look on his face.