Helen

I’m mortified.

I was trying to blend in. I was already nervous and uncomfortable and then Alex, who before a few weeks ago I hadn’t seen in over a decade, went ape shit and now everyone is staring at me. I wish the earth would open up and swallow me.

And . . . who does he think he is? Coming to my place of work, creating a scene. Judging me!

And, sister?

Before our one and only kiss, he’d always treated me like a sister, but I’m not his sister. I’m a grown-ass woman who can show her boobs to whomever she wants . . . thank you very much.

All of this is running through my head as the bartenders around me, whom I’ve never worked a single shift with before tonight, come to my defense. Toro and Fritz, two of the security guys and my friends, are pulling a crazy-looking Alex out of the room and his eyes, his glaring pissed-off eyes, haven’t looked away from me. The look he gives me sends a shiver down my spine.

“Who’s that? Are you okay?” Kevin asks.

I’m startled out of my trance. “Uh, yeah. Yes. I’m fine.”

“Seems really pissed,” Linda adds.

He does. Why is he so mad? “He’s an old friend.”

“He’s about to get his ass in the back of a black and white, doll,” Kevin says. “You sure he’s not more than a friend?”

“I haven’t seen him in years.” I swallow hard, looking at the group that has formed around me, watching the chaos. I’m still holding his jacket, which I fist close to my chest. I can’t believe this just happened.

Iggy appears out of nowhere and signals me to the back. Damn it.

“Day one and already problems with boyfriends? Maybe this isn’t—”

“No!” I protest and shove Alex’s jacket into Iggy’s hands. “He’s not my boyfriend. That was not my fault. I’m doing my job. I’m fine.”

“Seems pretty pissed for someone who’s no one.”

I shrug. Because he is no one. He may as well be a stranger.

“I apologize about that scene, but that was not my fault. I barely know him. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” And before I’m fired, I duck around Iggy, who’s looking at me suspiciously, to go tend to the bar.

I can say one thing . . . I’m so mortified about the scene Alex caused, I forget my boobs are peeking out through my shirt.

Alex

I’m in an office, glaring up at the meathead who is still holding onto me and a new guy who just walked in. By the tailored suit and commanding presence, I assume he’s the owner. “What’s going on?”

“Let. Me. Go. What do you want? I have my checkbook . . .”

“Who the hell do you think you are? I don’t need your money.” He turns to the other man. “Have the cops been called?” 

“On their way.”

“You think, for one goddamn minute, I’m going to go leave while . . . while . . .” I can’t even say it. Little Helen Blackwood is topless at the bar. “You can bring the entire police station down here. I’m not fucking leaving. Now, let me go before I press charges myself.”

The man smirks. “You got balls. I’ll give you that. What did he do?” he asks the security guy.

“He was trying to grab Helen.”

“I was not trying to grab her. I was helping her get out of here. There’s no way she wants to work in a place like this. She’s not a fucking stripper. She’s a goddamn Blackwood!” I yell, as if that’s supposed to mean something to these people.

“I’m not going to take offense because I’ve had a nice night tonight. I’m about to go see my woman, have a good meal . . . I’ll let the police figure this one out.”

I take a deep breath. “No. Wait. Stop. Helen, she’s . . . she’s family. I was—” Something passes through his face. “Do you have sisters? What would you do if you walked into a strip club and the stripper was your sister?”

I don’t know why I keep referring to her as my sister. Yes, we grew up together. And yes, she was almost like a little sister to me, hanging around, taunting me, being a general pain in the ass—

Except, she never felt like a sister to me. Not even close. But maybe that’ll appeal to this guy. He exhales loudly. “What’s your name?”

“Alexander Archer.”

“Archer? As in the owner of Archer Technologies, which cost me a server last week.”

I try to pull myself free, but the fucker behind me just tightens his grip. “I didn’t cost you a server. I made a stripper a very wealthy woman.”

He groans. “For someone who needs my help, you do enjoy being insulting, don’t you? This isn’t a strip club.”

I close my eyes and try to calm down. “Somebody else touched that other server. A colleague. One who, I will agree, is an asshole who perhaps deserved to see the inside of a jail for a day or two, just to teach him a lesson on propriety. However, my team of lawyers made your employee a hefty offer. One that, honestly, she didn’t have to accept if it was so insulting. And one that, you should note, I didn’t have to offer. Glen would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist, and your server would be back here serving tables, naked, her life completely unchanged.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “What is it that you want? Why shouldn’t I just hand you over to the cops?”

“Because—” I panic for a moment. I need to get Helen out of here today. One more moment of her naked is one more moment I’m going to go crazy. “Because I need to talk to Helen. I have a proposition for her. You should at least give me the opportunity to discuss it with her. I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I would never . . .” I let out a loud, irritated breath. “Ask her yourself.”

He eyes me for a moment, then says to the goon behind me, “Let him go, Fritz. Give us a minute.”

Fritz. What a ridiculous name. I rub my shoulder and narrow my eyes at the ogre whose neck I’m this close to breaking. I’m not a man who takes kindly to being touched by strangers, much less threatened. If my mind hadn’t been focused on Helen, I wouldn’t have been caught off guard.

“Drink?” he asks, walking to a wet bar in the corner of what I assume is his office.

I stretch my neck side to side. “Scotch.”

He grabs a bottle of Blue Label and pours me two fingers and then the same for himself, adding an ice cube in each.

“Have a seat.”

I don’t move.

“Either you talk to me or you talk to the cops. Your choice, buddy. But first, you need to calm the hell down.”

“I’m not your buddy,” I fume, gulping down the smooth liquid before sitting.

He rolls his eyes and then takes the seat behind his desk.

He’s waiting for me to speak. But I don’t. I just want to go talk to Helen.

“If I tell you that the cops are not coming, will you save me the headache and just leave my club?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.” He slowly sips his drink. “So, again, what is it that you want?”

“Helen.”

“How about you stop barking single words and orders at me and let’s start again. I have a soft spot for my sister. So, I’m willing to listen. But don’t forget, you’re not in any position to piss me off any further.” He leans forward and extends his hand. “Matt Moreno, part owner of Duality.”

I hesitate for a moment but then, like I always do, I weigh my options. The pros and cons. I can be a pain in the ass; ultimately, I’ll find Helen and get her out of here, but not without having to call my attorney, possibly pay a ton of money, and commit a crime. The crime being—hauling Helen’s ass out of here by force. Or, I can play nice with this guy, avoid a call to my lawyer, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll help me get Helen out of here.

I reach forward and shake his hand, then lean back and cross my ankle over my knee. “Alexander Archer, and I need your help.”

“Can’t wait to hear this.”

“I don’t want Helen working at a strip club. I’m not sure why she even has to work here,” the word comes out in a repulsed tone, “but whatever the reason, I want her out of here, tonight. Now, actually.”

“I won’t repeat myself. This isn’t a strip club.”

“I saw a lot of naked bodies upstairs.”

“But you can’t touch them. They don’t do lap dances and they don’t accept dollar bills.”

“I have hundreds.”

“Not what I meant,” he says with a smirk. “They’re topless, but so are the men who work for me upstairs, and the trapeze artist and fire breathers. But that didn’t bother you.”

I glare at him.

“So, you don’t like your sister walking around topless, is that the problem?”

“That is the problem.”

“It’s not your choice. As far as I know, she’s old enough to make her own decisions. No one is forcing her to do anything.”

“She looked uncomfortable.”

“It was her first day.”

And her last.

“And it was her choice. No one forced her. To be honest, it surprised me and the other owners when she applied for the position.”

“Applied for the position?” I scoff. What the hell did they require?

“You’re really starting to fuck up my mood, buddy. I’m about through with your arrogant attitude. No wonder she didn’t want dick to do with you.”

I fist my hands on my lap and breathe in deeply.

“She’s been working with me for a while and I never thought she’d want a job upstairs,” he continues, his tone more clipped than a minute ago. Apparently, he’s protective of his employees, and I can’t help but respect the asshole a little.

“I need to talk to her,” I admit.

“Her shift’s over at two.”

“It’s eleven.”

“Well, you got some time to kill, bud. And you can’t do it here.”

“I’ll pay you. How much to get her to get dressed and come talk to me?” I know I sound desperate, but I don’t care. I am.

“I don’t need your money.”

“No, but she does.” She must. Why else would she be working here? “How much would she make tonight? Whatever it is, I’ll double it.”

He looks over my shoulder and I turn my head. I had not noticed the entire wall of screens showing live feeds of the club. I follow his eyes and see Helen. My fists clench. She looks so uncomfortable as she serves a group of men. Her shoulders are slightly bowed and she’s fidgeting with her hair. I can see her breasts, and I hate that other men can see them too. Fuck, I hate that this Matt guy is watching her right now.

“I’ll give her a thousand dollars to just come talk to me. Ten minutes, that’s all I ask.” Shit, I left my jacket with Helen, and my checkbook’s inside. “And I’ll give you a thousand just for doing me the favor.” I know I sound like I’m begging, and I hate it.

I wait thirty seconds and when he doesn’t answer, I reach for my phone because I’m done negotiating. In two minutes I’m having this place shut down and by the end of the week, I’ll buy it if that’s what it takes. I start to dial my attorney’s number, but Matt interrupts me.

“I don’t want your money. Give her the two grand. You have ten minutes, and Fritz will be right outside the door the entire time. And she has to agree to talk to you, first. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’m only doing this because she looks miserable, and Helen never looks miserable,” he says, looking at the screen one last time. “She’s one of my best employees. Customers usually love her and so does the rest of the staff. This is . . .” He points to the screen, where a frazzled Helen drops a glass. “This isn’t our Helen. Something has been going on with her and she won’t talk to us about it.”

“Our” Helen?

I groan. Who the fuck is this guy?

Well, whoever he is, he’s helping me out by getting Helen out of that damn room.

Helen

“What does a guy have to do to get you to smile?” a man who’s leaning against the bar asks. His eyes keep drifting down and I feel my entire body break out in goosebumps.

I feign a smile, but there’s no way the three men in front of me believe it’s a genuine one. I’m sure I look like I have gas. I don’t want to be here. I accidently drop a glass, and the rowdy group of men whistle when I bend down to retrieve it.

How did I get to this point in my life?

To add to the discomfort I feel, I have this inexplicable guilt at having allowed Alex to get arrested. Not that he didn’t deserve it, coming to my place of work and causing a scene. Yes, the jerk deserved it. Maybe not being arrested, but something . . .

“Hey, Helen. Matt needs to see you,” Fritz says, dispersing the douchebags around my side of the bar. I watch Linda take control in a second. She pours each of them a shot, then one for herself, and thrusting her chest out, she tips it back and the men holler as they drink up.

God, why can’t I do that?

Downstairs, I was a star. I made the most tips and never had one complaint. I was sure of myself and felt confident and never questioned my appearance. Here, I’m exposed, like an open wound, full of self-doubt. And I can’t imagine it getting any better as time goes on; I’ll never be okay with being nude. I’ll never be Linda.

“Helen?” Fritz waves his hand and I look back at him. I’m surprised to see him again so quickly. Shouldn’t he be dealing with the police and the crazy lunatic who just came waltzing back into my life? “Let’s go. Matt needs you.”

“Uh, now?”

“Right now. I already told them to cover for you.” He points to the other bartenders. Shit, Iggy must’ve told Matt to fire me.

“Okay. Let me just grab my shirt. Meet you outside the lockers.”

I walk briskly out of the bar and into the employee changing room and throw on the T-shirt I came to work in. I see Alex’s expensive silk jacket by my locker. Iggy must’ve tossed it there. I stuff it in my bag, surely ruining it in the process. Then, I meet Fritz by the staircase.

“What happened to Alex?”

“Alex?”

“The guy? The argument?”

He shrugs and leads me downstairs to the office, where I find Matt waiting outside.

“How are you doing?” Matt asks.

“Fine.”

“You sure? Were you hurt?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Good. Good.”

“Listen, Matt, I am so sorry about that. It was so humiliating. I don’t know why he was so worked up, but please, please don’t fire me. I really, really need this job. God, do I need this job, and—”

“Helen. Helen,” he stops me, softly. “It’s okay. I’m not firing you.”

“You’re not?”

He chuckles. “No. Of course not. I asked you here because that man, Alex, he wants to talk to you. He’s in my office.”

“What? No, I don’t have anything to say to him.”

“Is he dangerous?” Matt asks.

My eyes widen. “Dangerous? Alex?” I laugh. “No, he’s not dangerous.” Not physically, at least.

“Then why don’t you want to speak with him?”

“Because I haven’t seen him in years. And I’m working. This isn’t the time to reconnect. He’s weirded out by my nudity and I don’t need judgment or a lecture or—”

“He’s giving you two thousand dollars for ten minutes of your time.”

“What?!” I shriek.

“Yep.”

I cock a hip out, my hand at my waist. “Ten minutes for what, exactly?”

“To talk, he says. Fritz will be right outside the door if you need him. Unless you think he will hurt you in any way. In which case, I won’t allow—”

“Alex wouldn’t hurt me.” I know this absolutely. Even after not seeing him for so many years, he isn’t the kind of person who’d harm me, or anyone, for that matter.

Just then, Iggy walks out of the adjacent office. “I agree,” he says. “I don’t think he will. His record’s clean. Too clean, actually.”

“Oh my God, you did a background check on him?”

“Only a preliminary one,” Iggy says, matter-of-factly. “He’s not your brother.”

“No. He’s an old friend.”

“Just friends? He’s like a caged animal. Seems like more than friends,” Matt adds.

“We were very close growing up.”

“Did he have anything to do with that bruise you had on your face last week?” Iggy asks.

Oh God, how did he know? I look down at my feet. I thought I’d done such a good job at covering it up. Could this day get any worse? “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think anyone else noticed. It’s my job, you know, to see what everyone else misses.”

“Wasn’t him. I swear,” I say.

“Is Luke back?” Matt asks.

I swallow. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Did you call the cops?”

“Of course. But he wasn’t home when they went by. I don’t even know if they’re looking for him. I don’t want any problems, okay? I just need to work.”

“I don’t like this,” Iggy says.

“I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I need to talk to Alex and then I need to get back to work. So, if you don’t mind—”

I practically push my bosses out of the way and walk inside the office and close the door behind me.

“You have a lot of nerve, Alex Archer! Coming to my place of business after abandoning me for twelve years. Now you offer me money just to talk? You’d better have a good explanation!” I yell, indignantly, stomping my foot and waiting for his answer. “Because I can’t be bought so easily!”

“Is that so?” he says from across the desk, where he’s made himself very comfortable. “Because from where I’m sitting it looks like you can be bought. Rather easily, in fact. Two thousand dollars seems to be your price.”

Funny, a minute ago I thought there was no way in hell I could be angrier or more humiliated than I already was.

I was dead wrong.

“Fuck you,” I spit out.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

I’ve swallowed my pride twice tonight and done things I’d never in my wildest dreams thought I’d do.

One, stand in a roomful of people naked because I am that hard up for money.

Two, show Alex weakness by taking two thousand dollars from him, because I am that hard up for money. I sold myself out, and I feel horrible about it. But desperation makes you do stupid things.

He stands and walks around the desk and leans his ass against the front of it, crossing his arms over his chest.

His eyes are assessing and predatory and I think his expression is meant to scare me, but Alex does not scare me. But hurt me . . . yeah, that he’s done.

I force myself to shove his callous statement aside and try to focus on Alex’s lack of social skills. I’ve known him far too long. Always, he was the serious child. Book smart. Pensive. Analytical. Not exactly introverted, but more as if the mere presence of people bothered him and he preferred to be alone. And he did the right things most of the time, but rarely said the right thing.

Me, on the other hand, I talk. I blurt things out. I don’t think things through. In fact, how many times did my father tell me to think before I spoke? How many times did my mother scold me for not being proper? I cross my arms over my chest, much like he’s doing, and bite my tongue. I won’t be the one to talk. Not now. He has some explaining to do, and that proverbial slap in the face he just gave me leaves a huge lump in the back of my throat.

The silence is absolutely deafening.

After a moment, he pushes himself off the desk and takes two long steps until he’s mere inches from me. I swallow and point to my wrist, as if I have a watch. The clock is ticking. He’d better hurry up.

Jesus, he smells good. Damn him.

No, not good. Great.

Fresh and clean and expensive. Acqua di Gio.

It’s nostalgic. It’s the smell of my past. Of the silver serving plates and fine bone china. Of the thick Persian rug in my old living room. Of the silk drapes that lined my bedroom window.

I’m used to my new lifestyle. One that came about abruptly and one that I was completely unprepared for. I’d put all the finer things I had behind me and moved on, focusing on living my life one day at a time. Being grateful for the things that I did have instead of the things that I lost.

But that cologne—the one assaulting my senses—suddenly transports me back to being a lovesick teenager constantly ignored by the quiet and mysterious older guy who I dreamt about nightly, even when I was being rejected daily.

“Why are you working here?”

“Here? As in Duality? It’s where I work. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “How is it that you became a bartender?”

I must look as confused as I feel. “I got a certificate in mixology and applied—”

“Not how, Helen. Why? Why are you a bartender?”

“Listen, Alex, I have to get back to work in three minutes and you aren’t making any sense. Is this what you wanted to talk about? What I’ve been up to for twelve years? If that’s what you wanted to know, you should’ve negotiated more than ten minutes.”

“Fine. Let’s talk tomorrow. My house at ten a.m.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” I repeat, matter-of-factly.

“Why not?”

“Why would I is a better question, don’t you think? You didn’t bother to find me all these years and now you stumble into my life and think you have any say in it at all? You and your stupid family abandoned me. Whatever the hell I’m doing with my life is none of your business. Not yours, not your mother’s, and definitely not your worthless father, who abandoned my father and me when we needed you most. I think our time is up.” I turn around, not wanting to talk about this anymore. It’s angering me more and more and reopening too many old wounds.

He grabs my wrist and pulls me roughly forward. “You shouldn’t say shit you know nothing about. Your father fucked over my family. You stole all our money, and now you, what . . . blew through it, and are hard up for money?”

All the blood in my body slides down to my toes. My mouth is open, but words aren’t coming out.

I should correct him. I should set him straight. But I refuse to. “Since you seem to be the jury, the judge, and the executioner, I don’t need to add anything to the story you’re convinced happened. What I do need to know is why do you care? Why are you here? And where is my two thousand dollars?”

He takes a step forward and then another until my back is pressed against the door. His tall figure looms over me, and I have to look up to see those steel-cold eyes look down at me with loathing. “Where’s the money, Helen? How’d you spend it? Humor me and tell me. I’ll admit, I’m curious. So curious, in fact, that I’m here paying two grand for a story I shouldn’t care a thing about.”

He’s standing so close now I can feel his breath on me, and the way his chest vibrates when he speaks in that low rumble. I swallow hard. All of a sudden I find myself distracted by his presence. Seems like my stupid childhood crush hasn’t gone anywhere after all.

He continues. “So, this is work now? You showing your tits to a room full of men for money?”

He doesn’t know what I’ve been through, the sonofabitch.

I lift my hand and without hesitation slap it across his face. He closes his eyes and his nose flares. My palm stings. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”

With a twitchy jaw, he presses his body against mine. “What? My words insult you? Hypocritical, don’t you think? Especially since everyone in the room upstairs saw you naked tonight.”

I can’t take his cruelty anymore. “I don’t know what money you think I had or have, for that matter. But I don’t have any. In fact, when I was forced out of my home, my city, and abandoned by everyone I knew, I was homeless for over a year.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I shrug. “I don’t care whether you believe me or not. But I was. I lived in a tent, then a car. There were days I didn’t eat, weeks I didn’t bathe, months I sat all alone wondering what the hell to do. I was eighteen and all alone. Completely. Do you know what it feels like to be all alone?” I demand, a finger jabbing into his chest. I don’t give him a chance to answer. “Of course you don’t. You were sitting on your little Archer throne, throwing stones and making up stories in your egotistical head. So, if you came back to show me how great your life turned out, then fine. I’m not above taking your money right now because I need it. I think I’ve answered all your questions. So, if you don’t mind . . .” I push him away from me, trying to swallow down the huge lump in the back of my throat. Rehashing that part of my life is hard. Rehashing it with someone who I want to hate, and makes feel as horrible as I do now, is worse.

There’s a knock from the other side of the door. “Time’s up!” Matt yells.

“You abandoned me,” I whisper. My voice breaks, and I hear a small intake of breath at the proverbial last blow.

We’re staring at each other, and the electricity between us is palpable. The emotions are thick. Hate, resentment, guilt, sadness. Nothing positive can come from having us in the same room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone be speechless. Not like this. He had no idea what had happened to me; it’s obvious by the way he’s gawking. I shouldn’t hold him responsible for something he didn’t know.

But he should have known. He should have called. He could have come looking for me. And that’s the crux of my anger with Alex and why I’m done listening.

“Leave the money with Matt,” I say, my voice cracking. “Oh. And this is yours. God forbid you leave it with the likes of someone like me. I’m sure you’d spend the next decade thinking I stole it from you.” I reach into my bag and toss his jacket at him, then open the door and bolt out as fast as I can, leaving Alex and my boss standing by the door looking confused as ever.