Stripped From You: (Stripped Duet #1) Page 20

  “And I have a connection with you she’ll never have!”

  “She changed for you. Not me, you. She made a choice, and it was you.” God that stings like a son of a bitch.

  “She would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.” He tries to argue.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “She loves you, Ryan. It’s just different than the way she loves me. You’re not fucked-up. You’ve always been the stable one.”

  “I’ve always been the crutch.”

  “You’ve always been the glue.”

  “I can’t be that anymore, Sean.” I look away. It feels like I just turned my back on my brother. Something I swore I would never do.

  “We know. It doesn’t mean we don’t miss you. As fucked-up as we are, we love you.”

  “Why isn’t she here telling me this? Why doesn’t she text me? Or come see me? I’ve never kept it a secret where I’ve been.”

  Sean shrugs. “She’s scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “Rejection.”

  Damn, I know the feeling. Maybe we’re not so different after all.

  “I just can’t right now, Sean.”

  “It doesn’t have to be right now, but maybe one day soon.”

  “Maybe,” I half-heartedly reply.

  Sean groans. “How about right now, we forget our fucking problems and have a little fun?”

  I size up my brother. He has that devilish look in his eyes. The one that tells me he wants to get into trouble. “What kind of fun?” I ask, because at the moment, I do want to forget all my fucking problems. I want to hang out with my brother and be just that, brothers.

  “The kind of fun involving lots of alcohol and two hot blondes.”

  “No blondes,” I dispute.

  “Okay.” He furrows his brows. He doesn’t understand. One day I’ll explain it. But not now. If I start talking about her, any hope of fun is going to fly right out the window. “Brunettes?” He thrusts his chin toward two girls eyeing us up at the end of the bar.

  “Perfect.”

  I order two drinks and send them to the girls.

  “Do you actually drop your drawers?” Sean questions as we snake our way through the crowd, closing in on the two girls who are waiting anxiously for us.

  “Yes,” I assert.

  “Well, if you feel compelled to take off your clothes tonight, can you do it behind closed doors?”

  “Only if you promise the same.” We bump fists.

  “Kara?” The bed shakes.

  I roll over to find a half-naked girl with bed head standing over me.

  “Morning,” she mutters, looking embarrassed.

  “Morning,” I reply.

  “I need to wake her up. She’s teaching a Pilates class in an hour.”

  Pilates? That explains the flexibility. I nudge Kara. Is it bad I had already forgotten her name? If her friend hadn’t reminded me, it could have been awkward.

  “I’m up,” Kara mumbles into the pillow.

  “Where’s my brother?” I ask the disheveled girl.

  “Sleeping on the couch.” She smirks, her cheeks red.

  Like him, do you? Stay away.

  I pick a pair of shorts up off the floor and slip them on as Kara’s friend walks out of the room. Shit, what’s her name again?

  I don’t want to give Kara the false impression I want her sticking around.

  “Last night was fun.” She stretches.

  “Yeah,” I mumble as I tie the string of my gym shorts.

  “We should do it again,” she hints.

  “You know where to find me.” I give her a little smile then walk out of Mac’s bedroom. I’m a total dick, I know. But a good time is about all I’m capable of right now. Judge me if you want, but you know what I’ve been through.

  In the living room, Sean is playing touchy-feely with Kara’s friend. I clear my throat as I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. They break apart, and the girl blushes, again. Timid little thing.

  Kara walks in a few seconds later with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, bare feet, and a T-shirt that definitely doesn’t belong to her.

  She pulls at the shirt and bites her lip like she’s trying to entice me. “Hope you don’t mind. I’ll return it.” “It’s cool.” I take a sip of water. “You can keep it.”

  “Oh.” She looks a little disappointed. “Thanks.” She glances over at Sean and her friend. God, what is that girl’s name?

  Tara! I remember now. We poked fun at them last night because their names rhymed. We’re twins, and our names don’t even rhyme.

  “Ready?” Kara asks. Frustration detectable in her voice.

  I’m such a scumbag.

  Tara gets up off the couch, hesitant to leave Sean. He follows, trailing behind her to the door. Kara gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, which I barely acknowledge, then walks out.

  Yup, super fucking scumbag.

  “I’ll call you,” Sean tells Tara, right before he grabs her ass so hard he nearly pulls her off the floor. He kisses her goodbye like he’s trying to rub it in her friend’s face.

  Which, knowing him, he probably is.

  When they break apart, Tara looks like she needs an oxygen mask. Her eyes are starry, and her breath is weak.

  “Okay,” she manages right before she stumbles out the door.

  Sean slams it shut behind her.

  “You really gonna call her?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Maybe, if the moment strikes.”

  “It’s not nice to lead her on.”

  “Oh, as opposed to you, who just pretends like last night never happened?”

  “I don’t give false hope.”

  “You’re never going to get your shirt back now.” Sean starts snooping through the few cabinets in the kitchen. “Got any food?”

  “It was Mac’s shirt,” I inform him smugly.

  Sean laughs, and then elatedly pulls out a box of Lucky Charms. “Sweet.”

  I pull out two bowls and some spoons. Sean pours. It’s just like when we were growing up. You know, when we actually had cereal to eat.

  Sean and I devour the entire box of Lucky Charms.

  “So,” Sean says as he chomps on his magically delicious cereal. “You’re not interested in a girlfriend, I get that, but what’s up with the no blonde zone?”

  I stop chewing. The cereal suddenly feels like rocks in my mouth. I swallow slowly, trying to push down the rage that is rapidly creeping up my throat.

  “You seriously have to ask me that?”

  Sean looks at me blankly. He genuinely has no idea. And now that I think about it, why would he? He doesn’t know Alana is blonde. He never met her. And I barely ever talked about her.

  It still aggravates me nonetheless.

  “Sean, I gave up a lot for you when I went to prison.” I hope I’m conveying how much those three and a half years have fucked with my head.

  “I know.” His two words are ice cold and calculating. This conversation could become deadly if I’m not careful.

  “Alana was more than just some girl I was dating.”

  “I know. You loved her.”

  “Love her,” I correct him callously. Saying the words aloud nearly cripples me.

  “I never asked you to take the fall for me.” he snaps. Mood swing!

  “You didn’t do anything to stop me either.” I scream.

  I’m suddenly having déjà vu. We’re reliving our last face to face conversation. The one where I threatened his life and punched him in the mouth.

  “Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy and stood up for yourself, you wouldn’t be alone or a stripper!”

  I shove him up against the wall. All thought and reason gone. “You think I’m a pussy? I did what I did for you. To save you! To save our mother so she didn’t drink herself to death when you died of an overdose in prison! You’re a fucking ungrateful son of a bitch!” I slam him again. “I lost everything, and all you can do is stand there and call
me a pussy.”

  Sean’s eyes are blistering with emotion. I know what he wants. To fight. He wants to throw a punch so hard it knocks me out. I know this because they’re reflecting my own feelings right back at me.

  “Get the fuck out!” I jostle him.

  He doesn’t move. He’s trying to provoke me.

  “Get. Out!” I grab him by the shirt and toss him out the door. Then I pick up the first thing I see, a cereal bowl, and throw it against the wall, shattering it to tiny pieces.

  “Fuck!” I storm into the bathroom and turn on a scalding hot shower, leaving the pieces of the bowl, and my heart, scattered all over the kitchen floor.

  Headliner

  Sean can get under my skin like no other.

  After our little blowout, I didn’t talk to him for weeks. I did receive a series of text messages from him poking fun at me though. How I’m not tough, he could take me, and he was showing restraint by not knocking my head off after I shoved him up against the wall. He thinks our little tiffs are funny. I fucking want to strangle him. Space is the best thing for me when it comes to my family. I never thought that would be true. Before, I thought I had to be there to monitor their every move. Pick up after them, take care of them, and on some level, depend on them. Because really, who else did I have?

  In hindsight, I realize they were destroying me. My home environment was poisonous and doing nothing but causing a toxic reaction. I understand that now. I’ll always love them. They’re my family, my genetic link, but it’s time I stop putting them first and concentrate on me.

  And yeah, maybe I do stay out all night, sleep with faceless women, and take my clothes off for a living. So what? I’m having some fun. I need the therapy. It’s either I lay on an uncomfortable leather couch and pay a hundred and fifty dollars an hour to cry about my mommy issues, or I go out and make a hundred and fifty dollars with unleashed mommies who scream and cry my name.

  Which would you choose?

  I stride into Daniel’s office to find out what’s on my schedule tonight. Sometimes I’m booked solid for private dances, sometimes I’m working a VIP party, sometimes I just work the male revue and then get a free night to do as I please. Those nights are usually my favorite.

  “What’s on the agenda?” I ask Daniel, interrupting him from whatever he’s studying on his desk.

  “Here.” He hands me a piece of paper, distracted. “You were requested in the B and B tonight. Interested?”

  “Nope.” I don’t even have to think about it. The Boyfriend Bedroom. It’s exactly what it sounds like. I’ve been in there once, and I am never going back again. It’s just not for me. I can’t “pretend” that way. Too much emotion even if it is only role play.

  “Okay,” Daniel huffs, clearly dissatisfied. “She was insistent. Said she’d pay double.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not that hard up for money.” “No, I suppose you’re not.” He grins while still studying the papers on his desk. I glance over, curious to see what has his undivided attention.

  “Vegas?” I raise my eyebrows. “Thinking of becoming a snowbird?”

  Daniel shoots me a glare. He hates it when I joke about his age. Forty-two is old, isn’t it?

  “Be careful, kid. You’ll be my age one day.” “One day,” I mock. “Really, though, what’s up with Vegas?”

  “I’m expanding.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup, and who knows? You might just be my headlining act.”

  I laugh hysterically. “Yeah, right!”

  “Why is that funny?”

  “Because. It just is. I mean, me? Vegas? Headliner? It just sounds ludicrous in the same sentence.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, kid. You’ve got charisma. And that’s exactly what I need.”

  I scoff. “I may dance on a little stage in New York City, but I’m not delusional. I don’t have any ideas of grandeur.”

  “Let me tell you something, Jack.” Daniel stands up so we are eye to eye. “Do you know why you’re so successful? Why so many women come to see you?” He pokes me in the chest.

  “Because I willingly take my pants off?”

  “No,” he groans. “It’s not that. When you perform, you make people feel it. You’re emotive; you communicate with the audience. Do you know how rare that is?”

  I shake my head.

  “I have been doing this a long time. And I don’t just mean running a strip club. I have been a dancer my whole life. I toured with the biggest names out there. Madonna, Janet Jackson, The Backstreet Boys. I know talent when I see it. And just because you haven’t trained professionally doesn’t mean you can’t exploit it.”

  “Exploit it how?”

  “With the right choreographers, we can develop your abilities. I have a vision, and it includes you.”

  “Me?” I raise my eyebrows. “Want to paint me a picture? Because now I’m all ears.” My curiosity has peaked tenfold.

  “I want to put on the ultimate male revue. I want it to be more burlesque and less hokey—”

  “You think I’m hokey?”

  “Not you, and not my show, but I’ve seen some and...” He makes a sheesh face. “I also want to put it on several times a night in the middle of a high-energy dance club.”

  “You definitely have a vision.”

  “Pyrotechnics and everything, baby.” He smiles shamelessly.

  “Sounds explosive.”

  “It will be.”

  “Well, when you’re ready to open Culture: Las Vegas Strip” — I spread my hands over my head like I’m seeing it in lights — “you let me know.”

  “Go ahead and poke fun, kid. But I fucking love that name!”

  I laugh some more. All this conversation needs is a straightjacket and a padded room, and it will be officially crazy.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” I bust his chops. “You’ll be able to get away with that hat way better in Vegas than you do here.” I rush out of the room as Daniel chucks some papers at me. “Missed! Gotta be faster than that, old man!”

  “Get to fucking work, wiseass!”

  After tonight’s show, Divan, Logan, Shayne, and I make our way into one of the VIP rooms. It’s some high-profile socialite’s birthday, and she is celebrating at Culture with fifty of her closest friends. The medium-sized room is packed with women, and we are seriously outnumbered.

  “I think we need to call in some reinforcements,” Divan mutters, noticing the male to female ratio.

  “I think you’re right,” I agree as we make our way farther inside. I am not fifteen steps in when I’m ambushed by someone jumping into my arms.

  “Whoa!” She wraps her arms and legs around me and plants a wet kiss on my cheek.

  So, remember my first private dance and it being with one of the coolest girls on the planet? Yeah, that was Demi, and she is presently glued to me right now.

  “Hey sexy,” she exclaims as she slides down my body. She’s barely five-foot-two, has this long, shiny black hair, and these crystal blue eyes that look right through you.

  “Hey yourself. What are you doing up here? I didn’t know you hung out with the paparazzo’s favorite socialite?”

  “I don’t, but one of my friends does. So, I’m a guest by association.”

  “That’s cool.” I smile as more of my co-workers inhabit the room. The flood of people has the energy soaring and the alcohol flowing. Kanye’s “Stronger” blasts through the speakers, and the beat infects me. I hop up on the glossy white table in the middle of the room and proceed to do what I get paid to do. Cause a scene.

  Women crowd around me, feeding off my vigor as Kanye raps about being faster and stronger. Of course, just spectating isn’t enough for Demi. She and one of her friends quickly join me, sandwiching me on top of the table. Demi is awesome all the way around. She’s entertaining, lively, and every time we’re together, we have way too much fun. I don’t know what it is about her, but we have this connection. It’s been evident since the first night we
met. We just click.

  Demi, Sarah — whose name I learned while dancing on the table — and I proceed to dance and drink the night away; they are above and beyond touchy-feely with me. It almost feels like they’re trying to lure me. And as many times as Demi and I have hung out, she’s never acted like this. Like she wants to do more than just dance.

  Divan and Logan have been tracking me all night. Throwing looks every chance they get, insinuating something. I must be dense, because I have no idea what they’re hinting at.

  Around two a.m., Demi and her friend have me cornered. There’s mischief sparking in both of their eyes, and maybe something more.

  “Jack?” Demi whispers in my ear. “Why did you turn me down?”

  “What are you talking about? Turn you down?”

  “You refused my request.”

  “My request?” I repeat curiously.

  “Yes.” She gets up on her tiptoes and leans in close to my ear. “I wanted you in the Boyfriend Bedroom tonight. We both did.”

  “We?” I swallow a gulp, looking between Demi and Sarah. Sarah is almost as tall as me. She has light brown hair that’s pin straight and large hazel eyes. Very pretty and very seductive.

  “Yup. But whoever I talked to said you weren’t interested,” she pouts.

  “Well, I didn’t know it was you,” I admit, a little off-kilter.

  “You know it’s me now. Is there any way you’ll change your mind?”

  “Maybe,” I toy with her. “What exactly do you want to do in the B and B?”

  “You.” She licks my neck. “And her.”

  My knees almost buckle. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that what you want, too?” I question Sarah with my heart galloping around in chest.

  “Mmm hmm.” She sucks on her bottom lip and looks at me like I’m something edible.

  “So, what do you say?” Demi runs her hand up my bare torso. “Will you be our boyfriend tonight? It’ll come with all the perks.”

  My jaw drops. I can’t believe they’re serious. And now I know why she told Daniel she’d pay double.

  I glance over to see Divan and Logan hawking me. I smile wickedly. How the hell can I say no to a proposition like this? My hormones start working double time. No pun intended.