“You’re going to be okay to work tonight, right?” Savannah asks as we walk into the club.
Nodding, I head straight for the time clock and punch in, Savannah right behind me. “Yeah. I need everything to get back to normal, you know?”
I can’t sit around and feel sorry for myself any longer. I need to forget what happened with Greg the creep, and I definitely need to forget about Rhett and my plans to ruin him and his family.
Yeah, I was selfish taking that one last night with him, but I thought it might get Rhett out of my system.
Instead, I think it made everything worse. He’s all I can think about. I’m fucking obsessed.
It sucks.
I also couldn’t stand the thought of going back to my house in the crappy neighborhood and staying there alone. Rhett could find me there, too, and that’s the last thing I want. Savannah’s letting me stay at her place, thank goodness. She said I could stay as long as I wanted, which was a huge mistake. At the rate I’m going, I’ll never leave, but I’m grateful for her friendship.
I went back to school, trying my best to catch up on my assignments, and begging my professors to let me retake a couple of tests I missed. I thought I would give up on the college dream, but what else am I going to do? I already spent all my money on my education, so I need to see this semester through. What I’ll do after the semester ends, though, I’m not sure.
I’ll worry about that later.
Don is glad to see me back at work, I can tell just by the look on his face, and I let him embrace me for a brief moment before I extract myself from his beefy arms.
“You’re looking good, doll,” he murmurs, his expression sincere. “I was worried you wouldn’t come back.”
“She shouldn’t come back,” Savannah says, coming to stand right beside me. “Not after what happened.”
At least Don looks contrite. “Never again. I promise we won’t let something like that happen,” he says firmly. “We’re planning on establishing more strict rules at the club. There will be a meeting about it soon.”
The moment he walks away, Savannah rolls her eyes. “Right. He’s too greedy to not take money from customers for ‘extra’ services. He’s just saying that because he feels guilty.”
I don’t respond. Honestly, I don’t want to talk about what happened to me. I’d rather forget it ever happened in the first place. Scrub it from my brain forever.
“Seriously, Jen, what are you going to do if that guy shows back up here?” Savannah asks as we walk over to our lockers. “He could, you know.” She’s referring to Greg.
“He won’t,” I say firmly, just as I swing my locker door open. Maybe if I believe what I’m saying, it won’t happen.
Yet I can’t help but have those thoughts. He could totally show up here whenever he wants, and what would I do? Scream and run? Kick him in the nuts and call him an asshole? Call the cops?
I can’t do any of that. So I have to keep believing Greg is never going to come back to City Lights again.
“He might,” Savannah says, ever the positive thinker. “I swear I’ve seen that guy around here before.”
Curiosity gets the best of me and I have to ask, despite my wish to never talk about him again. “Do you think he’s a regular?”
“Maybe? I’m not sure.” Savannah takes off her T-shirt and tosses it into the locker. “After a while, they all start to look the same, I swear.”
“I didn’t recognize him.” Though there was something about him that was oddly familiar. So maybe Greg is a regular? A semi-regular? “I didn’t realize you saw him that night.”
“Yeah. I did.” Savannah shuts her locker door, her gaze locking on mine. “I saw you taking care of his table. He was originally at one of my tables, but when I came to take their drink orders, he asked for you specifically.”
Unease slips down my spine, leaving me cold. “What do you mean? Did he request me by name?”
“Yeah.” Savannah tilts her head to the side, frowning. “Or maybe not. Now I can’t remember.”
“Try your best to remember.” How would he know who I was? And why would he request me? It makes no sense. Unless he’s some sort of crazed stalker.
“I’m not sure.” Savannah offers a helpless shrug. “Maybe he didn’t ask for you by name. Maybe he just thought you were cute. Did Don say anything?”
“No, not really.” I shake my head. Though I do remember being confused when Don told me I needed to serve that table, since that section wasn’t one I usually worked.
“So weird.” Savannah smiles weakly. “Guess that Greg guy knew he wanted you from the start.”
Her words fill me with dread. “I suppose so.”
“Girls, quit your chatting and head on out. It’s gonna be extra busy tonight. We’ve got a big group of guys celebrating a bachelor party coming in,” Don says, clapping his hands at us like we’re a pack of dogs he’s trying to get rid of. “Hurry up! Get out there!”
We head out without protest, Savannah and I going our separate ways the moment we hit the floor. I paste on my best fake smile as I push through the crowd, moving toward the bar. I grab one of the empty trays from the counter, ignoring Chuck’s sympathetic gaze. I don’t need anyone to feel bad for me tonight, even if they have good intentions.
I’ve got this.
But the thought of Greg specifically requesting me to work his table that night hangs heavy like a dark, thunderous cloud over my head as I go through the motions with my customers. I’m jumpy, nervous. Constantly glancing over my shoulder. I tell myself everything’s going to be okay, but it’s hard to focus.
Thankfully, Don was right. The club is extra busy, and the guests are incredibly loud, especially the bachelor party, which is made up of at least thirty men, maybe more. Catcalling their appreciation for every dancer on the stage, shouting their approval when they purchase the groom-to-be a lap dance. The guys aren’t very old—they actually look close to my age—and as I watch the future groom laugh while the stripper grinds on his crotch, I wonder what it’s like to know you’ve found the love of your life by the time you’re in your mid-twenties.
I can’t even wrap my head around that concept.
Thinking of love leads me to think of Rhett, which is the biggest waste of my time. I never did unblock his number so he could contact me, and I bet he’s so mad at me. Though really, why would he care? I’m just a bump in the road of his life, a girl he messed around with for a brief moment in time. He’ll never know what I intended, or how I wanted to ruin him and his family.
And that’s okay. Giving up on my revenge plot was the right thing to do. I don’t have the energy to go after my mother any longer. I feel defeated. Alone.
Adrift.
The bachelor party grows even bigger, and Don asks me to help the servers who’ve been working it the entire night, including Savannah. I find her at the bar filling another order, her hair falling out of her ponytail and her cheeks pink. She’s totally frazzled.
“Tell me how you want me to help,” I say.
She blows the wayward strands of hair out of her face, a grateful smile curling her lips. “A new group of dudes just showed up and they ordered a round of tequila shots. They’re at table nine. If you could take the shots to them while I handle the bachelor and all his buddies at their table, I’d really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” I turn to Chuck to let him know that I’m the one taking over the shots order. He loads up my tray with eight shot glasses of the most expensive tequila we’ve got, plus a small bowl of limes and a shaker of salt.
I lift the tray above my head as I wind my way between the crowded tables. The music is extra loud since there’s a girl up on the stage performing, and the lights are flashing in time to the beat. I can feel men’s eyes lingering on my bare chest as I walk past them, and my arms suddenly feel wobbly, like I might drop the entire tray at any moment. My heart starts to race and my breathing gets short.
Relax, I remind myself as I take a deep breath. You’ve done this five nights a week for months. Don’t let the bullshit get in your head and cause you to mess up.
Thankfully, the panic attack leaves me as swiftly as it arrived, and I end up at table nine, my fake smile extra big as I greet the guys waiting enthusiastically for their drinks. I can barely make out their features thanks to the flashing lights, and I mentally pray they aren’t a bunch of rude assholes.
“Who ordered tequila shots?” I ask, smiling when they all start hooting and hollering, shouting me over and over again.
With a nervous laugh, I start handing out the shot glasses, leaning over a little bit to let them get a look at my tits. I realize quick they’re young, and they’re respectful, and I can tell this might be the first visit to a strip club for some of these guys, the ones who seem nervous and can barely look at me. There’s no leering, rude older men contemplating how they might touch me sitting at this particular table tonight. I almost feel…
Comfortable.
I offer them the bowl of limes and the saltshaker and they thank me profusely, most of their gazes still locked on my chest, but they don’t bother me. For some reason, I can tell these guys are harmless.
The stripper on stage finally ends her performance to much applause, meaning it’s the end of the constant flashing lights, and I go to grab my empty tray, turning back toward the bar when I spot a familiar face in the crowd.
My heart drops into my stomach.
He sees me too. There’s confusion etched all over his handsome face, his big brown eyes going wide when they land on me. I immediately hold the tray in front of my naked torso like some sort of shield, and I swear I see him mouth my name.
Jensen?
No.
It can’t be.
It’s Rhett Montgomery. Rhett Montgomery is at City Lights.
And he’s headed in my direction.
Preorder the second book in the Damaged Hearts series – HIS WASTED HEART, coming April 26th! Preorder here:
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