Cam

It’s not like Mal to call me several times in a row in such a short period of time. He didn’t leave a voicemail message or send any texts, he just called and called and called. I dial his number and leave him a message asking him to call me back and then called Beck to no answer as well.

Hoping they are both okay, I return to the bedroom where Jacks is sitting at the edge of the bed typing out something on his phone.

“What’s up?” he asks, looking up as he places the phone down on the comforter.

“Not sure. Neither Mal nor Beck is answering. I guess we’ll see if they return my call. So, how was your morning? Nice to be back at the gym?” I ask, walking towards him to stand in the open space between his legs.

“It was nice to get some sort of movement in.” He leans back on his hands and smiles.

“Can I ask you an odd question? Okay, maybe not really odd, but probably not the everyday type of question that one would be asked?” I start.

“Should I be concerned about this question?” he asks playfully.

“I was looking for the broom earlier, because I broke a glass. Sorry about that, by the way. And so, I went looking in the garage for a broom. Why do you have a box labeled knee pads? I mean, why would you need a box full of knee pads? What are you doing on your knees?”

His face slowly turns from serious to sudden laughter. He flops back onto the bed with his hand over his eyes and laughs loudly as I stand still in between his legs with my hands on my hips.

“Oh man,” he says in between fits of laughter. He wipes his eyes and then leans up on his elbows and looks me in the eye. “What do you think it’s for?” he says, finally trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“So as you know, I’m a retired dancer.” he says followed by a leading pause.

“Yeah, okay.”

“So, when we’re doing floor work, rather than moving across the floor on our knees and busting up our skin, we use knee pads to help the glide look effortless and smooth.”

“So you just kept your old knee pads?”

“I bought in bulk. I forgot I still had a box.” He smiles. “What was going through your mind, love?”

“I’m not really sure. It just seemed odd for someone to have so many. But now that you mention it, I do remember seeing the guys in Magic Mike wear them,” I say flippantly.

“I have practice tonight, do you want to come?”

“Practice?”

“I have some new moves I’ve been thinking up that I may want some of the guys to do. You can come and watch it all unfold. Maybe bring the box of knee pads?” He winks.

“Will I be like the stripper fairy, bringing gifts to not injure the knees?”

“Precisely. But love, dancers or erotic dancers, not strippers. Those are the terms that we prefer.”

“Is there a difference?” I ask, honestly wanting to bite my tongue as soon as the words came out.

“No, but I think those titles are just less negative, less objectifying. I mean they take off their clothes, for some form of stimuli, but there are negative connotations associated with the word ‘stripper.’ Dancing is an art, whether you take your clothes off or not,” he says, his tone flat as he straightens and moves me aside a little so he can stand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push any buttons.”

“No need to apologize. The more people who can view the profession as something less sleazy the better. There are stereotypes about the business that just seem to never go away.”

“I feel like an arse.” I touch his arm and run my hand down the inside of his forearm to grasp his hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be mad at you. I’m not mad at you. I just get touchy sometimes when I hear people call my dancers strippers. I hated hearing it when I was dancing.”

“Anyone that ever says ‘stripper,’ I will now be able to give them the proper name.” I make a cross-my-heart motion over my chest and he smiles.

“So, do you want to come to practice tonight?”

“Do I get to see you in action?” I perk up.

“Yeah a little.”

“Sold!” I say loudly as he laughs.

We’re walking out of the bedroom when the front door opens and Mal and Beck barrel into the front room. Mal has a wild expression in his eyes as he looks from the kitchen to the hallway where we’re walking out.

Jacks and I are holding hands. By just looking at my brother, I know something is wrong. Jacks must sense it too as his hand squeezes mine. Beck’s eyes are red as she stands slightly behind Mal with one of her hands on his shoulders.

“Fuck. I feel like I’ve looked all over the city for you,” he says, out of breath.

“I’ve been home, I haven’t gone anywhere. What’s up?” I ask. “Everything okay?”

“Why weren’t you answering your phone? I tried calling you several times.”

“I was taking a bath. I called you back though.”

“When I came home, she had the music up pretty loud and her phone was out here. What’s going on?” Jacks asks, coming to stand beside me.

Mal looks at him and then looks at me and shakes his head.

“We’ve got to go. Pack a bag. I booked a flight home, our plane takes off in a few hours.” Mal grabs my arm and pulls me towards the bedroom. “Beck, can you help her?”

“Wait, what? What’s going on? Tell me what’s going on?” I plead.

Beck comes up and wraps her arms around me and leads me down the hall quietly. I look behind as Mal leans in and talks quietly to Jacks. I see Jacks's expression fall. When his eyes cut to me, I see the pain in his eyes. I look to Beck as she leads to the bedroom doorway. “Why aren’t you guys telling me anything? Why am I packing a bag and why am I going home?”

“We all are. Something’s happened,” Beck replies.

We enter the bedroom and Beck doesn’t say any more. She sees a bag on the top shelf of Jacks’ closet and grabs it.

“Where are your clothes?” she asks.

“In the other room. I haven’t moved any of it over in here,” I reply.

Beck is going through the motions and I’m not sure if she’s deliberately not saying anything or if she just doesn’t know what to say.

Something’s happened.

What happened? To whom? And why are we going home?

Why is no one telling me what is going on?

We walk back into the living room where Mal and Jacks are seated. Jacks stands and comes in front of me and grabs my hands.

“Come sit.” He instructs.

Wordlessly, I walk around the couch and sit beside Jacks. The mood in the room is tense as I sit in between Jacks and Mal. Mal turns his body to me and takes a deep breath.

“We have to go home.” He starts, takes a deep breath and then continues. Beck’s hand is on his shoulder from behind and soon tears are streaming down my face and I’m leaning into Jacks. His arms surround me and hold me tightly as my world crumbles.