“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.