Stripped (Stripped, #1)(20)
Author: H.M. Ward

I’m not naïve anymore, I know I never had any of that stuff, but the illusion was nice while it lasted. Now, every moment is hell. If a creditor isn’t hounding me for cash, then the repo guy is chasing me, trying to get my car, which is currently hidden in Mrs. McKinzey’s garage. The sad part is that the mountain of debt isn’t even mine, it’s Mark’s. I didn’t do this, but I’m the one paying for it. I’m a college dropout, hiding in the ‘hood, biding my time, so that I can earn enough money to get a second chance at life. Assuming I can avoid Mark in the meantime.

"Cassie, you’re on stage next. Get out here!" I’m not Bruce’s favorite person after last weekend, but he doesn’t blame me. The boss found out, of course. The pictures in the paper made it clear that someone grabbed me, a Ferro, and that Bruce didn’t or couldn’t do his job. He would have been fired if I didn’t speak up, but Bruce doesn’t know that. I went to Jeff’s office alone and explained to the owner that Bruce wasn’t to blame. Jeff said I didn’t get it, and still planned on firing his ass, so I said I’d pay Bruce’s salary to give him another chance. The guy might be a thug, but he has a kid at home. I can’t be the reason why he got fired, and if I wasn’t the girl stripping that night, none of it would have happened.

The week is almost over. Maybe it was stupid, especially since Bruce has no idea who’s paying his wages this week, but I can’t be the reason someone falls apart. I already was once, and the mess I saw in Jon Ferro’s eyes last weekend made me sick. I caused it, I know I did.

Yanking my garters in place, I dust myself with some glitter and head out to the stage. My entire outfit is cotton candy pink. It matches the pink room, the one spot in the club that isn’t filled with wall to wall guys. There’s usually a handful of men in there, because they are the only ones who can afford it. I feel better about taking my clothes off since I’ll never see them again, and there aren’t as many of them. Guys like that don’t hang out at places like this. They tend to be the CEO types that had an argument with their perfect wife. They blow off steam down here, and then disappear again.

I enter the room from backstage and peer through the pale pink curtain. The entire area is champagne pink, with bits of sparkle. It looks hideous with the lights all the way up, but with flickering candlelight and a single spotlight on me, it has a serene feel. The music starts and I strut out on stage, moving my body to the music, not paying attention to who’s out there. I never look at their faces. My eyes don’t even connect with their bodies, usually gazing just above their heads. It makes it less real, like they aren’t real people and I’m not really doing this. Eye contact shatters the illusion.

Bruce has his arms folded across his chest and watches me from the back of the room. His phone is out. He looks at the screen and smiles, before tucking it away. His kid took her first steps tonight and he’s beaming, telling everyone, showing them the video of his little princess and her wobbly legs.

As I make my way to the pole, I glance around the room. There are only a couple of guys here tonight, which is weird for a weekend. They’re both sitting away from the stage, back in the corners. I plaster a smile on my face and start my dance, thinking of Jonathan and the things I wish he’d done to me when we were younger. Sweat makes my body glisten as I work, splaying my legs, and rubbing my hands over my slick body with my eyes half closed. The bra comes off, and gets tossed to the side, showing my taut n**ples. I swing on the pole, tossing my hair around, and breathing hard before stripping completely.

Then the show gets more intense. I touch places on my body that I shouldn’t touch in public, while tossing my head back and staring at the ceiling. I reach above my head with my hands and stretch, forcing my br**sts higher, and making my waist slimmer, before I push my ankles apart. My hands drift down my arms, to my head, following my long curls to my br**sts, and then to the V in my legs. I gasp and wink, followed by a wicked smile. I hold the pose until the spot turns off.

The money is made in the next part of the night, but with only two guys, damn—I’ll barely make enough money to pay Bruce. Beth is going to kill me if I don’t clear at least my share of gas money. I slip back into my outfit and head out to the floor. Music pulses through the small room. I need to concentrate on what I’m doing because it takes a lot of finesse, but my mind keeps drifting to Jon.

I shove my life away, cramming it back into the back of my head as I approach a young man sitting in one of the corners. I don’t look at his face, I never do.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey yourself," he says holding up a hundred dollar bill, which is the only kind of bill you can use in the pink room. There’s an insanely high cover charge, which goes to the boss, but I get to keep the money I make on the floor. I take it from him and slip it into my G string. I don’t look at his face as I work him over. He keeps handing me bills, so I stay and dance for him until he’s done with me.

The music cues me back to the stage, where I do another striptease, this one much raunchier than the first. By the time I’m done, the gentlemen in the corner is gone, but two more have taken his place. They wave bills at me, but I pass them and head to the man who’s been here since I stepped out on stage.

My thoughts roam to that secret place in the back of my mind where there are no emotions, just darkness and shadows. I don’t want to think about what I’m doing or how I got here. Doing that is like dumping lighter fluid over my head. One spark will burn me to a crisp in a matter of seconds. No one starts out life this way. No girl ever dreams of being a stripper when she grows up, and thinking about what I am, what I’ve become, only makes it worse. So I don’t think at all. I’m lost somewhere within my mind, where no one can touch me, where I’m safe.

"Hey, baby," I say, my eyes looking anywhere but his face.

"Hey, Cassie."

His voice jars me, slamming me back into reality with a deafening thud. Shivers course through my skin, freezing me in place as my heart explodes in my chest. "Jonathan?"

CHAPTER 27

JONATHAN

I hate sitting and watching her work the other guy. Every bit of me wants to strut over to the man and slam my fist down his throat, but I manage to wait my turn. Barely. Maybe this was a stupid idea, and I know my mother will kill me when she finds out, but I had to do it. I couldn’t let things go on this way, not for Cassie. It doesn’t matter what she did to me back then, I can’t wish this on her. Based on the look on her face the other night, she doesn’t enjoy this job at all.

Maybe showing up here wasn’t a good idea, but I can’t leave now. She’s walking over to me with a sexy smile on her face. Her body shimmers like she’s made of stardust, her h*ps swaying to the music as she walks toward me, and the old dreams of squeezing that perfect ass hit me hard. I still want her. How could I? The woman nearly ruined me, and I’m still drooling like a love struck teenager.

Cassie’s dark hair hangs in loose curls over her pale skin. That body is so overwhelmingly beautiful that I can’t look away. My palms grow hot, followed by the rest of my body. She’ll think I have no pride. She’ll slap me, and rip my heart out of my chest, again. But only if I let her, and that’s not why I’m here. As much as I’d love a lap dance from this bewitching woman, I want something else much more.

Her voice isn’t right. She doesn’t sound like herself when she speaks, but when I reply, oh God… Those startling dark eyes flash with recognition. She glares at me like she hates me, but I don’t move. The smug smile remains on my face as I lean back in my chair.

I hold up a few bills, not really thinking about how I’m going to tell her. I just need her to stay by me for a second. "Dance for me, Cass."

Her lower lip trembles ever so slightly before she reaches for the money. The expression on her face tells me this is the equivalent of kicking her in the stomach. I’m a dick. I should stop her right now, and tell her why I’m here, but I can’t resist the urge to give her a little bit of the hell that I lived through because of her. Cassie tucks the bills into her panty and steps closer. Raising my hands, palms out, I say, "Stop. From there’s fine."

The insult washes the life out of her eyes and her shoulders slump. It’s only a second, but I see it—I know what I did to her—but I can’t stop. Cassie lifts her arms above her head and starts to sway her hips. Her ass comes close to my face, but I don’t move. She dances and I let her. Every time she stops, I shove another bill at her. I must have given her over a grand by now, but I don’t care. When she reaches for the money this time, I lean in and say, "Allow me."

Cassie stiffens and nods once, then forces a hip my way. I lift the satin of her panty and tuck the bill in place before looking up into her face. Too many unspoken words pass between us. I spare her the final dance and stand. With those stripper heels on her feet, we’re eye to eye. "Why’d you do it? I would have done anything for you, Cassie, and you ruined me."

Her dark eyes fall to the floor as her breathing becomes rough, like she’s trying not to cry. But when she looks back up at me, she doesn’t offer an explanation. There are no words, no apologies rolling off her lips. If she told me why, if she said anything, I could forgive her—I could—because I so desperately need her. But Cassie doesn’t say anything.

Instead she hangs her head and tucks a dark curl behind her ear. "I have to go."

I nod, and now we’re both looking at the floor. Her toenails are painted, each one tipped with silver sparkles. "So do I."

I lose my nerve. I don’t tell her what I came in for, or what it means to her. Instead, I slip out before she remembers that I’ve been banished from this place. Bruce was supposed to carve me a new face if I tried to come in here again, but his new boss wouldn’t allow it.

As I leave the pink room, I run my hand over the back of my neck and expel the perfumed air like poison. I run into a thin girl—the one that was wrestling with Cassie the other night at the party—Beth. She looks up at me in shock, and says, "Is it true? Did you really buy this place?"

I smirk at her and nod. "Yeah, I did. Welcome to Club Ferro."

CHAPTER 28

CASSIE

"He didn’t," I say to Beth, my jaw hanging open as I look at the pile of cash in my hand. "Jon bought the club? He actually said that?"

Beth nods as she pulls off her thigh highs. "Yeah, he said it’s going to be Club Ferro. I didn’t really get a chance to talk to him, but that’s why he was here tonight. Apparently, he bought the club this afternoon and came in tonight to tour the building when it was in use and sign the papers." Beth isn’t stupid. She’s been chattering to keep my head from exploding.

I can’t work for him. I could barely deal with Jon at the party, but seeing him every day—here—oh God. It feels like someone dropped my heart down a mine shaft and I’m going to puke. A thin sheen of sweat covers my face as I lean forward in my chair in the dressing room.

Gretchen glares at me. "If you get us sick, I swear to God—"

"She’s not sick, so go suck it, evil whore," Beth snaps back.

Gretchen places her hands on her hips. She’s standing there in her cotton bra and panty set, almost dressed to leave, and glares at us. "At least I don’t live in a hole like you two lesbians."

"Go f**k yourself, Gretchen." Beth snaps back.

"Why don’t you make me, Beth?" The two of them are standing toe to toe, two seconds away from a cat fight. I glance around for Bruce, but he’s not here.