I sigh.
Too bad he wasn't here to punch Dan out for me. My mouth twitches a little.
“Well, remember, you're a stripper, not a slave. Don't let him treat you any different at school, okay? Make that boy behave.” She slaps a hand on my knee and smiles, but I can't seem to make myself smile back.
“We're partnered together on a research project. Do I tell the professor that the guy assaulted me at a strip club?”
“If you have to. You shouldn't be ashamed of what you do to survive. Some people think this place is a last resort, that it's the worst thing possible. But what's really bad, what's really low, is when you start to believe all of that, when you let yourself doubt. Do what you have to do, but stand up for yourself, okay?”
“I will,” I promise, and I know that's the truth. I might not be the bravest girl in the world, but I don't let people walk all over me either.
“I'm supposed to get off here in a minute, but why don't you sit for a spell and I'll take this set, alright?”
“Thanks, Tiffany,” I say as she smiles at me and moves away, leaving me alone with the sweet, faint smell of her perfume.
As soon as she leaves, this overwhelming sense of loneliness takes over me. Clearly, it's something that I need to work on, but … it sure is nice to know that Zayden's going to be waiting for me when I get back.
Maybe he'll even be naked in my bed?
I almost smile again, but it just won't come. Still, I decide that even if we only have two nights left, I'm going to use them up for all that they're worth.
When I let myself in the front door, Sadie's crib is gone and I have a small moment of panic that Zayden's just up and left. But of course he wouldn't do that to the girls, not even to me I think. I really do smile when I hear the song that's playing from the kitchen: “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison.
I close the door quietly behind me and lock it, leaving my bag on the couch and trying to sneak my way over to the archway in the kitchen to see what he's doing. Doesn't work though because I end up tripping over Hubert and falling directly into Zayden's waiting arms.
“Whoa there, chickadee,” he says as he grins and lifts me back up, his fingers hot against my skin as he rights me and we both look down at the stupid cat. He's yowling and flashing a new sweater, this one with a South Park character on the back of it.
It hits me suddenly that if Hubert wears a different sweater for everyday of the week then …
“You packed, like, a dozen plus sweaters for your cat? That's what you thought to bring with you to Eureka?”
Zayden's still grinning at me, but as he steadies me and goes to release my arms, he sees the rug burns on my elbows and frowns.
When he tries to study the wounds, I pull away from him and cross my arms over the front of my coat, refusing to let my mind devolve into memories of Zayden pushing me against the wall next to the stairwell, coming all over my lacy teddy.
“Seriously. You packed cat sweaters, Zayden. Doesn't get any nerdier than that.”
Zayden snaps tattooed fingers at me and leans in close, his expression softening into something a little goofier.
“If you're talking to me again, then I'm guessing I'm out of the doghouse?”
“You sure you don't want to be in the doghouse?” I joke as I move over to the couch and pull Dodger off the back of the old chihuahua. Seriously, what is wrong with this dog? Not only is he neutered, but of the three chihuahuas, the only one he seems to enjoy humping is the ancient old man with cataracts and a tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Kind of weird. And gross. Super gross. “Dodger seems to get a lot of action, way more than you.”
“Oh, snap,” Zayden says, tilting his head to the side and snapping his fingers again. “You got me there, Smarty-Pants.” A pause as I stroke the fat chihuahua and the hyper little one with the white spot on her head. I still have no idea what their names are. Kinzie calls them Little Bastard, A-Hole, and Poop Face. I am guessing those are not their actual monickers. “So what's up with the elbows? Did something happen?”
“I tripped on a transition strip,” I say with a roll of my eyes, raising my brows as the song ends and starts up again, clearly on another of Zay's endless loops. “What's with the music? Are you trying to soften me up?”