Catherine
As I moved around the dining area, I swore I could feel him watching my every move. Those big brown eyes, that interested smirk—he always offered them, but never took the initiative to say anything more than a few flirtatious remarks.
I guess I wished he would just ask me out, make a move, anything. Yet all he ever did was watch, smile, and make my heart race with the anticipation that it might one day be more.
I was ready for that day.
I’d tell myself today would be that day. I will talk to him, I will flirt. Then I’d see him, whether around campus or at Porter’s, and I would freeze. I’d find some way to talk myself out of it; most times it was my self-doubt interfering.
But here I was again, and there he was.
“Red.” I turned around just in time to see a blonde girl walk toward the table where the group of guys sat. I tried not to make it too obvious but I’ll admit I was curious how he’d react.
“That was a great game against Tennessee last week. You were amazing as always.” I watched as she paused next to the table and leaned over just enough that her shirt gaped open in the front. I rolled my eyes at her over the top effort and turned back toward the table I was at, continuing to clean off the dishes.
“Thanks,” he finally said. His bland tone had me smiling, my back still to them.
“Hey Draya, is that a tattoo?” It wasn’t Red that asked, but I found myself pausing, waiting for her response.
“Yes it is, wanna see the entire thing?”
I couldn’t help myself. I turned to see what and where this tattoo was and instantly I regretted it. The blonde was practically lying across Red as she showed the guy next to him what appeared to be her tit. Well okay, not her entire tit, but it was pretty damn close.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust and looked away only to find myself staring into Red’s eyes. He was looking directly at me, his hands held away from the girl and a knowing smile on his face. I guess my distaste was written all over my face.
Unable to keep a straight face, I smiled at him before turning back to my work. Here was my chance—I could flirt, gain his attention, and be the one to take the initiative.
But instead I moved toward the back and let my doubt take over.
***
“You get paid today?” It was the first thing I was asked the moment I entered the door. Not “how was your day” or “it’s good to see you.” Not that I truly expected my stepfather to say anything nice, but it sure would be a welcome change to be home for more than five minutes before he started pushing me for money. Money I worked for but apparently wasn’t entitled to spend.
“Yeah.” I reached inside my purse, pulled out the money envelope, and held it out as I passed the end of the couch. He wasted no time taking it without so much as a “thank you for helping support your mother and me.”
“I’m a sorry loser who can’t provide for my family and without you we would fall flat on our faces.” That was what he should have been saying.
I’d pulled double shifts the last two weekends just to get a little extra. I wanted to be able to keep a little for myself without Carl noticing. The man was garbage, he was lazy, and a drunk, but my mother wasn’t much better. The only difference was she held a job, not one I would share with my friends if I actually had any friends, but it was a job.
Let me just say the only difference between my mother and a prostitute was that she performed her duties in the back room of a local strip club instead of dirty hotels and backseats.
Safely in my room, or so I thought, I was lifting my shirt over my head just as the bedroom door behind me came bursting open. I whipped around and shielded myself as Carl moved into the room. He held the money envelope in his hands, shaking it as he glared at me. “Where’s the rest of the money, Cat?”
“What?” Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to play stupid.
“You think I’m an idiot, but I know you’ve worked more hours this pay period and there should be more money. But instead it’s the same as your last check, so that tells me you’re cheating me out of my money.” Cheating him? Out of his money?
“I had to pay for gas and book fees.” That was a lie, the book fee part anyway. Because I was from such a low-income family, I’d gotten grants to help with those things. He didn’t need to know that, though.
“You’d make us both a lot more money if you took your mother up on that offer to work with her.” Stripping in front of a room full of horny disgusting men was not my idea of a career. It was disgusting. “Or you could just skip the dancing and move straight to the extra activities they offer instead. Much better tips.”
I cringed when his eyes roamed over me from my head down to my feet and then back up again.
“You got the body for it. I think you’d make a killing. I’ve seen some of the girls they got there and none of them have what you have to offer. So innocent looking, you’d make those men’s heads spin.” He licked his lower lip and left his tongue resting there for a moment too long.
Still holding my shirt to my chest, I leaned over to grab the remaining amount of money I had hidden in the front pocket of my purse. My stomach tensed as I held it out to him, suddenly feeling I’d never escape the hold he and my mother had on me.
But at this point, I just wanted him gone.
With a satisfied smile and a tip of his head he took it and left my room. As he retreated down the hall I watched him walk away, taking what little dignity I had left with him since he’d left my door wide open. For a moment I remained frozen in the center of my room staring after him, feeling with each step he stripped me a little more. I always felt inferior to him, so small and frail in his presence. I’d give anything to free myself of his hold, both financially and emotionally.
I quietly shut my door and propped my desk chair beneath the handle. Sitting back on my bed, I took in a deep breath and did what I always did. I imagined getting my own place and feeling safe for once.
Carl had never touched me, but the way he watched me was a violation in itself. I took every shift I could and stayed late in the library, studying to the point where I could barely hold my eyes open. Anything was better than being here alone with him.
My phone chirped in my purse, making me jump in surprise. I reached inside in search of it and smiled when I saw who the message was from.
Marcus: Please tell me you’ve decided to take me up on my offer? I need a wingman, or wing woman, whatever.
Since working at Pete’s I’d gotten a chance to know both Morgan and Marcus. The two of them were a package deal, I’d come to find out, and where they were, Morgan’s boyfriend Xavier wasn’t far behind.
Which also meant that I’d grown to know a few of Xavier’s frat brothers in the process. They were all like one big family. One large, crazy ass family that loved to torture and torment one another but a family nonetheless.
I didn’t know if I considered Morgan a friend but the more time we spent together the more she seemed to accept me as one of her own. What started out as just being coworkers began to bud into something more. She was hard to figure out though, private on most occasions like many of us. She was always kind and helpful, showing me the ropes around work and helping me get settled. Marcus—I don’t think that man had an unfriendly bone in his body. He’d taken me under his wing and I guess I considered him my one and only true friend. He was like the brother I never had growing up, someone I could always count on, and who never missed the opportunity to make my life a little more interesting. He loved to tease me, which was all right because I knew he meant no harm.
My problem was I never let anyone get close. I was always too embarrassed and ashamed of the life I lived. Keeping a distance made everything so much easier than having to explain the events that took place at home.
Me: Something tells me you don’t need anyone to help you shine, you do that quite well all by yourself.
I imagined that sassy little tilt of his mouth as he typed out his response.
Marcus: True, so very true. I do however think that you could use a night out and I refuse to let you talk your way out of this one. I know where you live, part of the perks of knowing Pete and him having a thing for our girl Morgan. Getting your personal information would be oh so easy. Either you come to me, or I’ll come for you.
My heart began to race at the idea of Marcus showing up here.
Me: Okay I will meet you at the party at 8.
It wouldn’t be so bad to have a night of fun, and I knew the guys would keep it entertaining for sure.
Marcus: I’ll be waiting out front, buttercup.
I smiled at his nickname for me. I’m not sure why but he had referred to me as his buttercup since the very first day I met him and it made me smile uncontrollably. It was next to impossible to remain down in the dumps when Marcus was near.