The good thing about living with so many people, is that someone is always around. As I approach the door to Beyond from one direction, I see Bruno and Cooper approaching from the other, both wearing the hats I knitted them. Bruno quickly relieves me of my cargo and Coop holds the door for me like the gentleman he is. Thanking them both, I try not to laugh as they peer into the box and try to guess what I’ll be making for dinner.

“Shepherd’s pie.”

“Sicilian pasta.”

“Minestrone.”

“Irish stew.”

“Stuffed peppers with chicken and spinach salad.”

“Shitake, ginger and tofu stir-fry?”

“Cassoulet?”

They look to me for confirmation and I smile. When these guys first joined the crew, their menu cards were fairly simplistic. In fact, I seem to recall Coop reading out shitake as ‘shit take’ mushrooms when he saw it on my list, which had reminded me of my brother doing the same.

“This isn’t all for the same dish, but those are all good guesses. Tonight however, I will be making a green salad and baby potatoes to accompany the salmon en croute.”

Coop looks to Bruno for help. “Which is...?”

“Undoubtedly delicious if Kat’s cooking it,” Bruno says with a shrug as he looks to me. “You okay, Kat? You look a little flushed.”

Holding the back of my hand to my face as I hang my coat and scarf onto my hook at the top of the stairs, I shrug. “Just pink from walking in the cold, I’d say.” Taking off my boots, I put them on the rack below the coats and put on the slippers I’d traded them for before I left this morning. Taking the groceries from Bruno so he can discard his winter garb too, I give him a smile of thanks.

Setting the groceries on the kitchen counter, I continue through the kitchen and down the hall a short way to my room.

“Hey Lex,” I say on my way past her room.

Lowering her book, Alexa rolls off the bed. “Hey Kat. Thanks for the hat and the cookies. I didn’t get them till this morning, but Damon and I already ate them all. I really wish you weren’t a domestic goddess sometimes. If we didn’t get so much exercise, it would be a serious issue.”

Chuckling a little, I shake my head. “Glad you enjoyed them, Lex. I’m just going to change before I get started in the kitchen.”

“Cool. Remind me when it comes time to eat, that I only need one helping,” she says, leaning against her door frame. “I hate dancing on a too-full stomach and it always seems to happen on the nights you cook.” Narrowing her eyes, she studies my face. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. Why?” I ask, touching my cheeks again. “Bruno said the same thing. Are my cheeks wind-burned or something? They do feel a bit warm.”

Regarding me a moment longer, she chews the inside of her cheek in thought. “You’re on dinner.”

It’s neither a question nor a reminder, simply a statement of fact.

“I know.”

“You’ve been to Green’s.”

My cheeks start heating from within. “Yeah. Of course.”

Alexa attempts to suppress a smile. “And?”

“And the salon,” I reply flippantly. “Just a regular, average day in the life of Katarina James. Nothing to write home about,” I add with a shrug as I move to the next door along. “Tim’s picking me up tomorrow at noon,” I call over my shoulder, changing the subject as I start pulling off my ‘salon clothes’.

Alexa comes to stand in my doorway. “What did you do there?”

“Where?” I ask, pulling off my shirt and bra and tossing them in the hamper before shrugging into a semi-supportive tank top. Rubbing at the thin red grooves left by my bra, I re-adjust my top. It’s hard to get the right chest support without leaving marks, and a professional stripper shouldn’t have unsightly red stripes that remind men they’re not perfect.

Perfect. Nobody is perfect. Especially here at Beyond the Horny Buffalo.

A classy adult entertainment establishment with a ‘look, but don’t touch’ policy, Beyond is more than some tasteless strip joint. All of us are trained dancers, and all of us are working through real issues surrounding our sexuality. I may not be scarred, or have a history of abuse, like some of the other dancers, and though I can definitely be socially awkward, I’m not crippled by it like Coop can be, but I have my own tales of woe, and I need this job for much more than the money it brings in for my family.

Alexa clears her throat. “Are you ignoring me, or are you thinking about what you did at Green’s with a certain bearded hottie?”

“Hottie?”

“I presume you think he’s hot,” she says with a shrug as her face becomes thoughtful. “You’re right. Hottie doesn’t suit him at all. Beefcake? Ox. Tiger? Too stripy. Panther? Lion-heart. What is the best animal descriptor of a strapping, virile, red-blooded, yet sensitive hunk of man? Bear?”

My cheeks flame impossibly redder and I turn away to find my yoga pants, trading them for the leggings and skirt I wore to work at the salon. “Are you done?” I ask as I flip my thick braid over my shoulder and pull on a loose t-shirt.

“Only if you tell me what happened at Green’s.”

“I made some orders. And delivered cookies and hats. Kimber’s matched her eyes perfectly. I also ate a banana, spilled a basket of apples and... the rest is a secret.”

Snorting, Alexa folds her arms over her chest. “A juicy secret?”

“There was no juice!” I snap. “I got to see out the back, but I’m sworn to secrecy about what was out there. It was pretty amazing though. A total shock. I thought it would just be boxes or something. It’s actually a huge space.” Innocent words flow from my mouth, streaming behind me as I head back to the kitchen.

Alexa leans against the counter as I open the full length freezer. “How amazing? On a scale of one to ten. One being a yawn, and ten being... eye-bulging.”

Sighing, I shrug as I set several packs of pre-rolled pastry on the counter. “I don’t know. Ten? It was pretty incredible.”

“It was, or Lennox was?” she presses.

Not looking up, I start pulling vegetables from the box on the counter. “Both I guess, considering he’s responsible for it.”

“Kat, seriously. Can you be any more annoying? Just tell me how far your panties dropped from the following choices. A) Not at all; B) to your knees; C) to the floor; or D) so far through the floor that they were burned up by liquid hot magma.”

Laughing, I look at her and shake my head. “Like literally, or figuratively speaking? Because they literally stayed on my ass.”

“And figuratively?” she asks leaning in and resting on the kitchen island as I chop veggies for a big pot of soup.

“They may have dropped to the floor, but I hoisted them up quick-smart,” I inform her in a flat tone. “There will be no panty-dropping for me except maybe on stage.”

Sighing, Alexa leans back against the counter again. “Will you just forgive yourself for whatever it is already? You deserve some goodness too, you know.”

“And maybe good people like the Greens deserve better,” I reply, tossing diced celery into the pot and starting on carrots.

“Better than Saint Katarina?”

My eyes flick to hers in warning. “You don’t know everything, Lex. Just leave it be.”

“I know you’re an amazing big sister, to more than just your siblings. Your heart is filled with love and you take care of everybody - sometimes to the detriment of yourself. In the time we’ve known each other, you have never once been involved with a man. At first I thought it was because you were hung up on losing the boy next door, but since it has become clear that you are completely hot for Lennox Green, and he for you, I can’t understand why you keep depriving yourself.”

“You don’t have to understand my choices, only that they are my choices.” Softening a little, I shake my head. “I love you Lex, but would you mind please giving me some space? I’ve got a lot to do before dinner.”

Sighing, Alexa moves in front of me. Staring up at me a moment, she wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me in for a hug. Upon releasing me, she leaves without another word.

***

I DON’T HAVE A GREAT night in the club. Well, the audience probably didn’t notice, but I wasn’t feeling myself when I hit the stage. I should have practiced more, but my brain was all stupefied from kissing Lennox Green and I did some things I hadn’t planned, and wouldn’t normally do. I know what men want. Normally I dance for them, playing to their desires, but today I indulged in some of my own. It does happen sometimes, and while it feels awesome at the time, I tend to feel unsettled afterward, as if I’ve done something wrong.

As soon as debrief is over - where Ireeni did her best to convince me I was the hottest she’d ever seen me, I leave the living room for the kitchen, throwing myself back into cooking. The kitchen is as much an outlet for me to express myself as dancing on the stage downstairs.

Pulling out pie dishes, I line them with pastry and fill them with the apples and rhubarb I’d stewed earlier. Nina Pryzbylewski, my boss/great friend, comes to stand on the other side of the island as I top the pies with different designs. I don’t look up, because it’s unusual for Prez not to retire upstairs after debrief, and therefore I know she’s going to say something about not expecting so much of myself or some variation along the same line. I feel like everyone’s put in their two cents today.

“I’ve got early appointments tomorrow,” she says, pressing down a hump of pastry on the edge of one of the pies. “So I probably won’t see you until the new year.” Looking up, I note her concerned expression. “I hope you have a great holiday, and enjoy the time with your family, Kat. I hope they spoil you rotten.”

Snorting, I dust my floury hands on my apron. “Probably they’ll be glad when I stop bossing them around and leave again.”

Smiling lightly, Prez moves around to give me a hug. “Maybe think about taking an actual holiday some time. One where you can just be you. I worry about you burning out. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.”

“I tell that to Tim all the time. He’s got the toughest job. I get to be selfish on stage,” I add with a tight smile of my own. “Did you not see me tonight?”

Prez chuckles and fans her face. “Oh, I saw you, hot stuff. That’s why I thought I’d mention it. You’re always telling me it’s been too long since I went on a date - maybe take your own advice.”

“In Franklinville?” I say with a laugh. “I’m too much of a city slicker for that crowd now.”

“Maybe when you get back then,” she says with a nod. Her face lights with the spark of a new thought and she holds up a finger as she opens her satchel; the one that holds tonight’s take. Pulling out the large bundle of envelopes, she quickly sorts through them, piling the ones with my name onto the counter. “I know you’ll need this before you go. Regular pay will go in a bit strangely over the break due to bank holidays, but I hope it won’t be too disruptive.” The stack gets higher and Prez gives a low whistle. “A lot through the slots for Angel tonight. Proof that you certainly moved the crowd, Kat.”

Once finished, she puts the rest back in her satchel and nudges the pile of cash-filled envelopes toward me. “Have a good holiday, and remember what I said,” she says with a smile. “Even if you just book into a hotel down the road for a week.”

“We’ll see,” I reply, not even considering the idea. A week in a hotel could pay for the twins’ camp come summer. “You have a nice break too. Maybe take your own advice.”

“Mmm,” she says with a smile. “Maybe I will. Night, Kat.”

“Night Nina. And thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always,” she says with a wink before leaving for her tiny apartment upstairs.

Gathering the envelopes, I put them into the front pocket of my apron and finish the pies. Popping them in the oven, I whip up a double batch of oatmeal cookies to leave here in the Beyond giant cookie tin. Taking stock of the Tupperware tower I have for taking home, I move to the stove and test the soup. Adding more salt, I turn the heat off and check the oven timer before heading to my room.

Setting the envelopes on my bed, I change into my pajamas before the count up. People tend to be more generous around the holidays, and it looks as though I’ve tapped that generosity. I make a decent living from my stripping, but I don’t often get this many tips.

My stack of bills gets healthier as I work through the envelopes, but the next one I pick up feels different. People - not always men - sometimes slip in a business card or note, hoping you’ll give them a call.

The envelope in my hands feels firm right to the edges. Opening it up, I pull out a Christmas card. That’s a first.

On the front is a shooting star, streaked with red and gold, and the words Happy Holidays curving beneath its tail. The message inside is small, and when I see who wrote it, it doesn’t surprise me in the least.

Maybe next year.

Lennox.

Maybe next year, what? He’ll kiss me again? Wouldn’t that be nice? A guaranteed mistletoe kiss from a man that makes me all kinds of hot and bothered. It’ll be the highlight of my year. He’s definitely the reason I unleashed on stage tonight.

Not necessarily a bad thing, I note as I finish opening my tips. Over four hundred bucks. For one set. Not bad at all.

Making a record in my ledger, I tuck the notes into my purse, wondering how many of them might have come from Lennox. It’s then that I’m struck by a more ominous thought. He was there tonight, watching me dance out my sexual frustration. My face grows hot even though I’m alone. What must he think of me?

Groaning, I flop back on my bed. Pulling his card out from under me, I flip it open and study his scant words. Sighing, I set it on my side table.

“Not next year either,” I mutter, burying my face in my pillow. Not ever.