Mason
“Good morning, gentlemen!” I hold my arms out wide, gloved hands, ready to train.
Blake jerks to a stop and glares at me. “Baywatch? How long have you been here?”
He and Jonah, who just entered the training center, stroll over to the octagon where I’ve been waiting since seven a.m. Waiting and training.
“Couple of hours.” I roll my head around, keeping my muscles loose. “Getting an early start.” I squint at Blake. “Hey, did you just wake up?”
“Fuck off.” He turns to head toward the locker room. “I’ll be right back to kick your morning-glory pansy ass.”
I cup my mouth. “Take your time!”
“Eat a dick!” He gives me the finger over his shoulder.
“Man, that guy is grumpy in the morning.” I shake my head, unable to wipe the shit-eating grin off my face.
Coming off an epic few days with Trix, I’m a damn circus clown. Our plane got in just in time for us to grab a quick dinner and head to my place. We showered together and stayed naked as long as we could, that is, until she had to head home and start her plan for making changes. I was so pumped up with excitement over where our relationship is heading I came straight to work to train.
She’s not going to strip anymore. Even thinking the words makes me fuckin’ giddy.
“Alright, Baywatch.” Jonah crosses his arms over his chest, his eyebrows dropped low as he assesses my practically dancing ass. “What gives?”
“Can’t a guy just start the week out with a smile?”
“Sure he can, but there’s always a reason and nine and a half times out of ten that reason is a woman.”
I try to hide what I’m sure looks like a ridiculously goofy smile.
“Fuck.” He shakes his head. “Trix did a number on your ass, huh?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You’re wearing it like skin, brother.”
“She’s pretty amazing.”
“Who?” Blake jogs up, wearing his training gear and slipping on his gloves. “The stripper?”
“Ex-stripper.” And that fucking grin is back. “She’s quitting.”
Blake’s eyebrows jump. “No shit? Good for you, man. Must have some kind of King Kong dick to get her to give up all that cash for you. Those girls make bank.”
My smile falls a little. “She’ll get another job. It’s no big deal.” We move to the heavy bags on the far end of the training center. “But yeah, I do have a King Kong dick, so that helps.”
Blake cringes. “Little slow on the uptake there, Baywatch.” He leans against the wall, studying me. “I’m serious though. She gives up that kind of green; you better be worth it.”
Am I worth it? Maybe not, but we’re worth it.
I’ll make damn sure we’re worth it.
He pulls an arm across his chest, stretching. “Can she afford her house, all her expenses, if she quits?”
“Um . . .” Shit, I didn’t really consider that.
“You sure pushing her to quit stripping without figuring this shit out first is the smartest thing to do?”
Adios good mood. Fucker.
“It’s her call. I didn’t ask her to quit.”
“Right.” Blake shakes his head. “I’m sure you have zero to do with her quitting.” He practically rolls his eyes.
“So, you’re saying she should just keep getting naked for dickheads like you while I just sit on the couch and wait for her to come home and wash the smell of a dozen different men’s colognes from her body, my body.”
“No, just stop thinking with your damn pride.” He smacks the side of my head.
“Ow!”
“Start using your brain, Baywatch.”
Shit. So maybe quitting tomorrow isn’t possible.
If money is the issue, she can move in with me. My chest lightens at the thought of waking up to Trix every day. Having her body warming mine every night. If things keep going the way they have, I can see making this woman my wife.
Trix
“Hold the door!” I race from my car to the back door of Zeus’s, my arms overloaded.
“Here, let me help you.” Kayla, one of the other dancers, grabs my bag and a few loose papers that slip from my grip.
“Thank you.” I blow hair from my face, spitting it from my mouth.
She props open the door with her foot while eyeballing all my crap. “You movin’ in?”
I pass her into the hallway that leads to the dressing rooms. “Oh no, definitely not.”
She follows me to my dressing table and drops my bag on the floor and papers on the table.
“Thanks, Kayla.”
“Sure thing.” She moves to her station across the room while I try to organize the mess I brought in.
“What the hell is all that stuff?” Angel perks up from her gossip magazine and glares.
“Just some outfits I thought I’d try out. Changing things up.” More like covering things up. It seems stupid, but I have a boyfriend now. First boyfriend in my entire adult life and I don’t want to mess things up.
Mason has made it abundantly clear that he hates me getting naked for a room full of men, so until my two weeks’ notice is up—which I’ve yet to give—I don’t feel as comfortable in nothing but a G-string.
Angel bends over and picks through my bag of clothes, pulling out one-piece corsets and lingerie. All of them sexy, just not showcasing as much skin.
She lifts an eyebrow and drops a satin number back into the bag. “There’s no way this shit is gonna fly, Trix. This is a titty bar, not a burlesque club. You’ll get booed off stage and then fired.”
I slam a stack of papers down on my dressing table harder than I intended. “What are you talking about?” I reach in and pull out a strappy one-piece that has cutouts across the stomach and back. “This is sexy.”
She flinches away from the offending lingerie and points. “That is a bathing suit.”
Whatever. I drop the thing back into the bag, feeling irritated at how right she really is. No one pays to get into a club to see what they can find at any public beach.
“Trix, what’s going on?”
I dig through my purse to find a pen. “Nothing.” At least nothing I want to talk about.
“These are job applications.”
My eyes slide to her as she sorts through all the papers I had on my table. “Yeah, they are.” I continue to search for a pen, avoiding her eyes.
“Are you getting a second job?” Her question is tentative, like she already knows the answer to the question she’s asking.
Frustrated, I drop my purse and grab the applications from her hands. She doesn’t seem to get the hint and pulls the folded up newspaper from my purse. The classified section.
Can’t really lie my way out of this one. “I think my time here has run its course, that’s all.”
“So you’re quitting.” Not a question, obviously.
“I think so. Yeah.” My scalp prickles as I anticipate Angel’s reaction.
“No!” She pulls up a stool to sit next to me, her eyes searching mine. “You can’t! I can’t do this if you’re not here.”
I’m moved by the emotion shining through her dark eyes, but cringe because I’m letting her down. I return to my applications, pulling out the one for the Youth Center which is hiring for a camp counselor. The pay sucks, and it’s only part time, but it’s a sure thing, and Sylvia said the second something full time opens up I’m in.
“Trix, why?”
“My heart’s just not in it anymore.” And sometimes when someone great comes along, a girl is forced to decide what’s more important: living for a dead sister or living for herself.
“Well shit.” Angel slumps back against the wall. “This sucks so bad. Santos is going to cry. You know that, right?”
“Please, don’t say anything until I put in my official two weeks in tonight after my shift. And quit with the pouty face. I’ll come in and visit. I promise.”
She frowns and moves back to her table. “No, you won’t. Everyone knows once a stripper leaves the life she never comes back.”
God, hope she’s right.
“Let’s give her a welcome worthy of the gods.” The DJ’s voice powers through the speakers, and I will my body into action, knowing this is my last dance of the night before I get to go home to Mason.
Warmth fills my chest, beating out the hungry roar of the crowd. I smooth my hands down the black satin of my corset to the clips of my garters.
“Put your hands together for our own . . . Trix!”
The bass throbs all around me, and I force my stiletto-tipped feet to move. I focus on the fact that after I speak with the club manager tonight I’ll be able to share with Mason that I’ve given my notice. I expect to be naked shortly after sharing that with him, and he’ll undoubtedly want to show his appreciation with his hands and mouth.
My hips sway to the music when I imagine Mason’s soft lips, his slick tongue as it glides down my neck and over my breasts. My joints turn to liquid as I think about all the wicked things he does with his tongue, and excitement builds in my chest.
I’ve shared my body for way too long. Anyone who has had enough cash to pay a cover charge has seen me naked, felt every curve of my body, and some even tasted my skin and mouth.
I drop my clothes piece by piece, refusing to allow the strange betrayal I feel over my past to penetrate my mind. Soon enough, I’ll be able to leave this life behind and move forward with Mason. Two more weeks at Zeus’s is an easy sacrifice for a future with my fighter.
The thought alone brings me peace. I can’t pinpoint the time and place where my desire for revenge died, but it was somewhere between running into Mason at Caesars and yesterday, sitting on the swing at my parents’.
The music picks up, and I run though one of my go-to routines. I could dance it in my sleep.
“Hey, over here!” I turn toward a table of guys no older than I am. They wave money at me, and I smile and slink over on my hands and knees with a swing to my hips that I’ve perfected over the years.
I toss my hair around and shove my hip out for them to stuff wads of their parents’ money into my lingerie. Then suddenly, it’s as if the air around me becomes electrified. There’s no sound out of the ordinary, but it feels like I’m surrounded by violence. Like a silent war is waging right in front of me, but I can’t see it. I continue to dance, but my heart picks up a frantic pace. My skin pricks as I scan my surroundings.
And then I see why.
Black eyes fix on me. Desperation rolls from them in waves. I freeze, staring straight at him. A face that used to bring hope now shatters my soul. My stomach churns and dizziness throws me off balance. The corner of his mouth lifts.
And just like that, with one look, my future plans are forgotten.