Flash (Penmore #2) Page 12

"Babe, you’re forgetting that I grew up around here. Places like this lie with their fucking use of the term art and their ability to offer anything other than grief. They’re calling it burlesque to jack up the prices, but Poison is still the same strip joint I grew up around. And babe, you’re kidding yourself if you think the women who work here end up in pretty houses. They end up in hospitals, rehab facilities recovering from the shit they’ve had to ingest to sleep at night without visions of the creeps who have come in and out of doors just like those. It'll harden you beyond your years. It’ll destroy you."

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It rumbled deep from my gut until I was bending over wiping away tears.

  “I forgot,” I managed once I had myself under control and stared into his eyes, smiling.

  “You forgot what?” he asked, looking at me like I was a lunatic.

  “That we’re strangers. Sure, you’ve sat beside me, followed me around a supermarket, bickered at me some. And yeah, you’ve been in me. But you’re kidding yourself if you think that means you know me.”

  “What the fuck are you trying to imply?” His eyes hardened.

  “It means I'm already hard, you asshole. I’ve been hard for two years. I’m not some naive young girl anymore.”

  “You don’t think you’re naive?”

  “It’s difficult to remain unscathed after you spend a night with a beautiful man, get pregnant, and then have to go to his funeral the day before you go to your first ultrasound,” I replied, my eyes glassy with unshed tears.

  “Babe,” he murmured softly, reaching for me. “You aren’t as damaged as you think.”

  I shook off his outstretched hands. “I hide it better than most, but don’t confuse me with some carefree college chick. I lost that innocence a long time ago. And it wasn't from taking my clothes off. In case you haven’t experienced it, having no hope for the future does that. This place, this money, it’s giving me my hope back. It’s giving me me back."

  "I get it. Probably more than you realize. But if you won’t change your mind, then once I get off work, I'll be by the stage each night. "

  My eyebrows rose. He has to be joking. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  "I just grabbed you off the fucking stage and no one did shit.”

  “They’re short on bouncers. I was warned. I just got distract—”

  “That’s not good enough. You tell me your shifts and I’ll be here.” He crossed his arms over his barrel chest to emphasize his point.

  "Cooper, you trying to save the world one damsel at a time isn’t getting you laid tonight."

  "That’s not me. This isn’t about me getting laid."

  "It looks like it from where I’m standing.”

  “What did you call us? Strangers? Guess you were right about that.”

  “I’m right about a lot of things. Like how you shouldn’t be here.”

  “It’s a waste of your time trying to change my mind. It’s not happening. Instead, let’s fix this shit.”

  “What?”

  “This stranger crap. Hell, you want to go back in there after they did jack shit to help you?”

  “No. But my purse is inside. With my car keys.”

  “All right, we’ll go get to know each other. Partners should know each other. Then I’ll bring you back to get your purse and keys afterward. Hell, you can tell them I kept you against your will and still demand to get paid.”

  “That still doesn’t change the fact that my keys are inside. If you think I’ll get on your bike in this dress, think again.”

  “Then the first thing you get to learn about me is that I can boost a pickup.”

  “You told me you went to prison for beating up a cop.”

  “I didn’t tell you I had a squeaky-clean record babe.”

  “Great. In case I forget to mention it later, this show-and-tell time is likely going to traumatize me.” I begrudgingly led the way to my car.

  “You have no idea.”

  COOPER

  “SOMEONE NEEDS TO GO GET more beer. We’re all out,” a guy yelled from the back of the frat house.

  I was momentarily repulsed by the circus of activity. Smoke polluted the air. People were standing around in small groups everywhere, laughing and dancing. Music blared from high-tech speakers. Drunken sorority girls kept singing off-key each time a song hit the chorus. It was a madhouse. The chaos was worse than the prison yard during a riot.

  The pulsating pop music was already giving me a headache. I wanted to walk out as quickly as I walked inside. Unfortunately, my gut told me that this would be the best place to get answers from Flash. A place where we could be talking amongst a crowd of people and nearly all of them would only be hearing the latest hit on repeat and focusing on the drink in their hand.

  “This is where you bring me? A frat party?” Millie asked, crossing her arms in front of her fucking gorgeous tits. Her nose twitched, probably due to the smell of cheap perfume and spilt spirits.

  “It’s better than my place, trust me.” I reached for her hand and dragged her toward the back door, hoping it led to a patio deck and some privacy.

  “I’m a little overdressed for a house party.” She looked around, staring at the girls in cutoff denim skirts and tank tops.

  When I noticed her tugging at the side of her floor-length red dress, I squeezed her hand. “You look fucking amazing, and if someone wants to say otherwise, they can go through me,” I informed her firmly. I noticed a few girls look our way with jealousy in their eyes and venom on their tongues. Seeing my eyes narrowed and shoulders braced, they quickly turned back to their conversations and drinking games.

  When I opened the back door and saw a small patio with two empty chairs, I turned to Flash and smirked. “Looks like it was all set up for us.”

  “Seeing as they’re turned away from the party and look almost as excited as I am to be here, you’re probably right.”

  “Now don’t be such a killjoy. We sit out here, we can hear some of the music, chat a little, see the stars and maybe we won’t be so keen to kill or jump each other in the future. How nice does that sound?”

  “Peachy. Although I’m skeptical that sitting down and sharing our life stories will make you less of a control freak. And just in case you were curious, generally that’s what makes me want to hurt you.”

  “Or maybe it’s just your pent-up desire to have me, Flash.” I grinned, secretly hoping that with each joke, casual smile, and personal story I told, she’d loosen up enough to tell me all about Grayson.

  She shivered slightly in the cool air and I shrugged off my leather jacket, placing it over her shoulders and taking a seat. I noticed her weariness but let out a breath of relief when she pulled the jacket tighter and took a seat.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what’s happening here. Now what do you want me to tell you?” She sat in the chair, staring up at the stars and putting her high-heeled feet on the patio’s rail.

  I was momentarily distracted by the way the skirt of her dress fell on either side of her legs. “Umm, maybe let’s start with simple stuff and work our way toward the big stories, like why you’re working at Poison and are harder than you look.”

  “Simple stuff?” she whispered.

  “Like your age, favorite color or ice cream flavor.”

  “Well, I had my twenty-first birthday last month, green’s my favorite color, and vanilla is my favorite flavor,” she told me while still staring up at the sky. It was as if telling me things about herself was something she could only do if she was pretending she was a world away.

  “Vanilla? Seriously?” I chuckled, causing her to turn to me with narrowed eyes.

  “Hey, it’s delicious. Not everything has to be filled with bells and whistles for it to be amazing. Some of the best things in life are the things everyone usually overlooks.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” I murmured, admiring the way the moonlight hit her legs.

  “How about you?”

  “Well I’m ni
neteen, am a chocolate man, and I think after tonight red is definitely my favorite color.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Flash, if you could see you in that dress, your favorite color would be red too.”

  “Not about that, because yeah, this dress is awesome. You’re lying about your age. No way in hell are you nineteen.”

  “Prison will do that to you. Not much else to do but work out.”

  “Shit, does that make me a cougar?”

  “Well you did leave scratch marks.” I smirked.

  “I did not.” She blushed.

  “Babe, you want to see the scars, I can strip off and show you, but that would defeat the purpose of why we’re here. You’ll see me with my shirt off, and then we won’t be talking.”

  “I’m sure I could restrain myself, but I think you need to explain why we’re here anyway. Surely we could’ve just gone to a coffee shop?”

  “I was invited. It’s a good luck celebration for the game against the Wolverines on Saturday. First party they invited me to. I guess the whole team’s meant to be here. I was going to blow it off, but aren’t frat parties where college guys and girls are meant to get to know each other?”

  “The whole team is meant to be here?” Her eyes widened.

  “Most yeah.”

  “Except Gray won’t be because he’s watching Jessie,” she said softly, her eyes turning glassy.

  I didn’t bother stopping myself—I reached out and laced my fingers with hers. Without any other questions, she started talking. I listened to her story. She told me about Grayson Waters, the small-town hero, her best friend’s crush turned boyfriend. Then she told me about Nate, Gray’s estranged brother who worked with Parker at Lucky’s and could’ve passed as Gray’s identical twin were it not for his eyes.

  My jaw clenched when she explained how Nate was a one-night stand, but before he knew he was going to be a father, his life was cut short due to his own negligence and devious father. A man Gray and Parker tricked into admitting his role in Nate’s death, but who still was able to cut a deal and remain in the local prison.

  A man I now knew without a doubt conned me.

  Fuck my life.

  As she told me about her parents kicking her out and Gray fulfilling Nate’s role in her daughter’s life, I struggled to hold in my rage.

  When she mentioned that this was just one of many nights that Gray gave up his old college ways to help her, I was suddenly really fucking grateful that I’d learned all that shit that night. Gray wasn’t Eli. She revealed the guilt she carried when she didn’t take Jessie to the games and how she could barely manage to sit through a whole game herself to support him.

  “He know you’re dancing?” I asked, reaching for one last reason to be pissed at the guy.

  “Oh no, Gray would be furious. Ever since I moved here, he’s acted like I’m his little sister. Hell, Parker would probably be concerned as well. Sure the club says burlesque, but everyone knows Getting Lucky doesn't run a classy, artistic place. They both believe I work night shifts as a telephone operator.”

  “They never questioned it?”

  “Well Tahnee never mentions it, and I have a deal with one of Gray’s best friends, Marissa. She’s part owner of the club with her mother, and she mentions that she occasionally works with me at the operator place for extra cash so they don’t worry.”

  “She a good friend of yours?”

  “Marissa?” She laughed. “No, not really. I . . . well let’s just say the day I went to audition at the club, I saw something she doesn’t want Gray to know about. So, we do each other a solid and keep each other’s secrets.”

  “You should take your girl to his games. It’s an easy fix to your guilt. Then you should tell him about where you work,” I said sternly.

  “You’re right about Jessie going to the games. But this is Gray’s senior year at Penmore. Everyone knows he’s going to be drafted in the NFL, and soon he’ll have to move away. I know he could’ve graduated already and been drafted earlier, but instead, the year Jessie was born he became a redshirt player. He told the coach it was to help him focus on his studies and writing, improve his results without distractions, but he was constantly helping me. Filling in where Nate would’ve wanted to be, building cots and painting bedrooms. If Gray knew I needed more than a phone operator’s allowance to survive, he’d quit for good. I know it. He’d put off his entire career for Jessie and start working. I love that, but I won’t allow it. I can do this on my own.”

  “You got a thing about doing shit by yourself, don’t you?”

  “Don’t you? Doesn’t everyone want to be independent after they leave home?”

  “I guess I’ve never had anyone try and help me, so I wouldn’t know. I’ve always had to take care of myself.”

  I felt her fingers tighten on mine. When her eyes shifted to mine and her lips parted, I knew she was waiting for me to explain. It was my turn.

  When I came up with this idea to share, it was a means to an end. Getting her to tell me all about Grayson. I wasn’t going to reveal the skeletons in my closet.

  But staring out into the dark, her hand gripped tightly in mine, I started to tell her about my parents. The sporadic highs and lows that came with living with heroin addicts. My first memory of my dad shooting up, then deciding to sit me on a kitchen stool and teach me all he’d learned. I explained that the punishments that came when I couldn’t recite his teachings at five years old were worse than any other age, because at five my bones had grown enough for him to get a good grasp on me, but they also broke easily. I told her about Al finding me in his car and calling social services.

  When I felt her lift our joined hands and press them against her wet cheek, I realized she’d been crying.

  “Life hasn’t been pretty for me, Flash,” I murmured. “I’d keep sharing, but it doesn’t get better. Even after I got put in the system, most of the stories I have aren’t pleasant.”

  “You don’t have any favorite memories?” she asked timidly.

  “A few. Not a lot.”

  “Tell me one of them,” she whispered.

  I thought about the stories I could tell about Lizzie, Jake, or Beth. Only I didn’t have many memories where they didn’t start with one or more of us getting hurt or acting out. I also wasn’t sure I could talk about any of them without getting angry, so I thought about a time when I wasn’t burdened by life.

  I quickly realized what story I needed to tell her.

  A moment in my life I used to wish I could forget.

  Until I stood in line at student services holding a little gold charm.

  “I went to the café a couple of years ago. Day after Halloween,” I started softly. “It’s a fair bit away from campus, not in the greatest area, but it’s still nice. It has these big cups with pictures in them. I’m not big into art, but a friend was, so I always went there with him. They also serve damn good bagels.”

  “I think I know it.”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me,” I muttered. “Anyway, this one morning I’m sitting with . . . with my friend, and I see the prettiest girl in the world. She has all this wild red hair, and even from a couple tables over, her blue eyes slay me. Watching her laugh with her girlfriend was like a punch to the gut. I’d had a seriously crap morning, but staring at her laughing, I was reminded of fairy tales and shit—even though she was sipping coffee from a to-go cup.”

  I heard her inhale sharply.

  “I didn’t go up to her or interrupt the conversation she was having with this nerdy brunette. Almost as fast as I had forgotten, I remembered all of the shit in my life I had to deal with, so I walked away. It was a nice moment though, even if it was over in a flash.”

  “Th-that’s a favorite memory?” she choked out.

  “It was the last good thing to happen to me before I was sent to prison.”

  When I stopped talking, we sat in silence, our fingers laced as the music from the party seeped through the cracks
in the door.

  We didn’t move a muscle, but we kept holding on.

  MILLIE

  I wasn’t okay. Listening to his story ripped something open inside of me. I didn’t know what to say, so I decided to do what I did best when I was scared: I became a character. I pretended I was aloof and superior. I was the frigid ice queen.

  I knew he could tell the difference.

  I was suddenly afraid that he saw more of me than anyone ever had before. That he understood my life like no one else.

  But I couldn’t let it affect me, couldn’t let it melt the shell I’d spent years building.

  After we sat in silence for what felt like eternity, I stood up, gave him his jacket, and started walking toward the exit.

  If I could handle my own life, I thought I might’ve had the words to express what I felt for his. If my heart hadn’t led me astray too many times to count, I might’ve leaned over and kissed him, soft and sweet. I would’ve told him what it meant to me, to be sitting on that patio sharing my life story, hearing him pouring out his heart and not hiding behind his beard, ink, and badass persona.

  In the silence, I wished I were brave enough to fight past the last few shields he kept between us, to demand he tell me everything I knew he wasn’t saying. Ask about his prison sentence, the cop, and how he felt about Penmore. What he felt now when he saw me. I just knew that if I did that, I’d be stepping over some invisible line.

  I would end up needing to protect him.

  I just hadn’t worked out how to be this new me yet. I constantly had Tahnee, Parker, or Gray preventing me from drowning. I kept talking to a ghost to distract myself from the loneliness I felt.

  If I can barely help myself, how could I ever be enough to help someone else?

  We parked at the back of Poison. I slipped my heels off and carefully climbed out of the truck, not bothering saying goodbye as I headed toward the entrance on my tiptoes, heels in hand, to collect my handbag.

  “You still think we’re strangers?” he called out to me, leaning against the driver door.

  I paused, exhaled my nerves, dropped to my feet. Before turning around, I fixed my mask.