“Whoa, you were a stripper?” I ask, shocked. Now my voice is too loud and causes everyone to turn in their seats to look at us.
“Shh, Dani,” she says, stabbing me with her eyes and gesturing with her hands for me to lower my volume. “I was an entertainer,” she says completely convinced there’s a difference in the two.
“Stripper,” I mumble under my breath.
I cannot believe what I am hearing; my mother was a stripper. I knew she was a “dancer”, but I never would have thought she stripped in a million years. When I was a kid and she told me she was a dancer, I thought she did Broadway shows or something. I can’t believe she’s been keeping all this from me. All I have ever been told about my father is that he is trash and doesn’t want anything to do with us. Well, apparently, just my mom; he doesn’t even know I exist. I didn’t know he was in a motorcycle club, or that my mother would ever be into a biker.
“Stevin started showing up every night and asking for me by name,” she says, grabbing me back from my frantic thoughts. “He told me I didn’t need to be in a place like that and I should let him take care of me. I hesitated at first, of course. However, the bills got to be too much to live in New York and my parents weren’t talking to me. Then Stevin and I started to connect, so I agreed. He gave me a job and provided things for you and me and I fell in love with him. Until last night, that is.” She closes her eyes tightly to avoid looking at me again. Tension suddenly creeps in the air between us, catching me off guard. I focus on her mindfully, trying to figure out why the sudden uneasiness.
“We were in Stevin’s office working late and his cell phone started ringing. When he answered it’s like his attitude did a 180. He told me to get my things and go home immediately. I guess I wasn’t fast enough, though. Two police officers came walking into the office followed by Stevin’s two security guards. I was at my desk shutting down my computer when I heard two gun shots. I ran into the office scared they had shot Stevin and his guards.” She pauses and scratches her forehead where I notice beads of sweat forming.
“When I saw the cops dead on the floor, I ran. I heard Stevin order his guards to chase me. One caught me and I fought back, only to be slapped by him. I kicked him in the balls and ran to the elevator,” she says, frantically. Her words are flying out of her mouth so quickly I can barely keep up.
“Uh,” she stumbles. Her eyes are wide with a look of disbelief, “Stevin came out of his office pointing a gun at me, but luckily, the elevator doors closed before he started shooting.” Her body is tense, trembling and avoiding. She isn’t telling me the whole story; my mother is a crappy liar. Based on her sweating, stumbling words and frantic state, I am sure she is definitely hiding something. This makes me nervous; the danger we appear to be in must be severe. I should know everything, and I don’t.
“I called your father. He’s going to protect us until we figure out our next move,” she says, finally looking in my direction. Her body suddenly seems calm and appeased.
“My--my father?” I stutter, confused why we are running to a guy my mother has wanted to keep away from me, the last person I ever thought my mother would run to for help.
“Anyway, Stevin’s a powerful man. I’m not sure how deep his pockets go, so leaving New York is our best option.” She looks at me for a reaction, avoiding my question about my father.
“Bull will protect us,” she says, nodding her head, so sure of herself.
“This is a lot to take in,” I say as I exhale, noticing for the first time I‘ve been holding my breath. My index finger and thumb are worrying my bottom lip as well, which is something I apparently do when I’m nervous according to my shrink, Victoria. When I was younger my mother said I acted so much like my father it worried her, making her feel I needed a shrink. Truth is, I hate Victoria. She always sides with my mother, even when I know she is wrong. The only thing Victoria ever made sense of was the nervous habit I have of playing with my bottom lip. I didn’t used to even realize I was doing it, but now I catch myself when I’m lying or nervous, or both.
“Look, I know you can’t understand right now,” my mother says as she grabs one of my hands in both of hers. This new affection is lost on me; she hasn’t shown any maternal instinct since she went to work for Stevin. I drop my fingers from my lips and feel my body stiffen at the contact.
“We need the type of help only an outlaw club like your father belongs to can give us. I won’t let them hurt you or drag you into their world of hell. You won’t be like them, Dani. You have a future, don’t forget that,“ she says, looking directly into my eyes.