As I crossed the room, I gulped down big mouthfuls of air smelling like dust and perfume scented sweat. It was a mixture I’d only been able to find here, since neither my roommate Tammara nor I wore perfume. I think after being required to douse ourselves in it night after night for the past four months killed any attraction we might have previously had for the stuff.
Grabbing hold of the handrail for balance, I kicked one of my heels back on the bar and bent forward, stretching my thighs and back. A few seconds passed while I maintained that position, patting the sweat off my body with the towel. The room was empty, meaning the other dancers must be in the showers. Through the wall, I could feel the throb of the bass and hear the dull roar of the hungry, lustful men. My stomach rolled, and I tried to think of anything else but their stares, the way they licked their lips when I passed.
Thank God I don’t have to go back out on the floor tonight.
I swapped legs and glared at the towel. It was covered in silvery white glitter, the primary reason
for not wiping my face after I dried off my body. Air conditioning blasted cold air on me, and I threw my head back, welcoming it and mentally going over my notes for Monday’s Special Education midterm while I stretched.
I couldn’t believe half of the semester was gone. The thought of student teaching next year sent a nervous thrill through me, followed by the same slew of questions I’d worried myself sick over a thousand times. What if the kids of my future classroom didn’t like me? What if I wasn’t creative enough to reach the really troubled kids I so badly wanted to help? What if the precariously stacked house of cards that was my life fell
apart and I couldn’t pay for the last semester of school to even finish my degree?
Tammara’s voice rang loud and clear in my head, my voice of reason. “Take a chill pill,” she’d say. “And stop worrying so much.”
I couldn’t help it. Really, I’d tried. But as much as I’d pushed my fears for the future to the back of my mind, to try not to think about tomorrow, they always came back when I was by myself.
Noise. I needed noise.
My heel smacked the floor as I lowered my leg and began counting the bills some of the men had managed to stuff inside my boots and my skimpy dress. I frowned as I pulled the last one free, another Washington. Most of them had been one-dollar bills, making it the third night in a row that I’d pulled in less than a hundred dollars in tips. At this rate, I would be lucky to pay the rent this month, and I couldn’t ask Tammara to cover it again for me. She had enough bills of her own to worry about, including a car payment I didn’t have to fuss over because there was no way I could afford a car.
The wad of cash crinkled in my hand as I squeezed, my face burning despite the fact the rest of my body had cooled off. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and counted to ten as I slowly exhaled.
Stay calm and figure it out. You always do.
I’d been serving as my own pep talker for years, ever since Mom stopped talking altogether and Dad got arrested. When no one else was there for you, you had to learn to be there for yourself.
Gingerly lowering myself to the couch and feeling my back pop in a few places, I pulled down the zipper and began peeling off my leather thigh-high boots. The arches of my feet screamed in agony as the boot finally came off, and I pitched it to the floor on top of the other. As I went to take off my black hose, the long, lumpy bump of the scar running from my inner thigh to my Achilles tendon brushed my fingertips, tearing me to pieces inside. Though the soreness had left over ten years ago, I still couldn’t shake the sorrow that consumed me, body and soul, when I saw it.
Batting my lashes to clear my tearing eyes, I stood and went to one of the cupboards, grabbing a bath robe, a loofah, and a towel before shuffling to the showers.
As they did every night, my feet protested by shooting sharp needles of pain through my calves, but I gritted my teeth and continued on without stopping. The promise of running water and rose-scented bath gel was too sweet to ignore.
No other showers were going when I walked into t
he large and much appreciated shower room. Steam permeated the air, smelling of different shampoos, an eclectic mix of cinnamon, mango, and honeysuckle. The floor was slick with warm water. It circled around the many drains strategically embedded throughout the tiled floor. My footsteps made sloshing sounds as I stripped down to nothing and tossed my dress into the hamper before tucking myself away in one of the spacious showers and yanking the curtain closed.
The knobs twisted with a squeak, blasting piping-h
ot water out of the wide showerhead. I stood there, wetting my hair and letting the heat soak down into my knotted muscles. The drone of the water was welcome, allowing me to clear my mind and bury the memories and doubts that fought every second to come to light. As the water streamed down my body and I reached for the shampoo, my heartbeat gradually slowed from my performance adrenaline high. I popped the top of the bottle and blinked the water from my eyes when a dark blur appeared, slamming my face into the side of the shower a split second later.
Shock paralyzed me for a few terrifying seconds as my mind scrambled to figure out what to do. I downed a breath, gathering a scream in my throat, but a hand clamped down over my mouth.
“What the hell was that shit?” came a rough, deep voice from behind me. “Do you think we’re going to sell more memberships with you practically covered and barely dancing to some lameass tune from the fifties?” Someone pressed against my body, pinning me against the wall, with my arm trapped behind my back in an armlock.
Still reeling from the attack, it took me a moment to place the source of the angry words.
Mr. Curtis.
The weight of his body, the smell of mint schnapps on his breath… it th
rew me back in time to ten years ago, when my world first fell apart at the seams. I’d been picking up the pieces ever since. But every time I thought I was done, that I had finally made it through my crucible, something happened to tear me back down.
Fear thick as molasses nearly choked the words from my mouth, making my tongue feel fat and awkward. “You told us we could pick our own music, make up our own routine.”
“I didn’t mean be a fucking saint when you walked out on stage. That artistic bullshit you’re into doesn’t pay the bills around here, or any of the expensive shit I give you girls. None of you appreciate a goddamn thing I do for you.”
His grip tightened around my arm, twisting to the point it felt like my bones were going to skewer my skin. Not wanting to move for fear I’d break my arm, I gritted my teeth and tried to control my breathing. On the verge of hyperventilating, I managed, “I’ll change it up for next time.” I prayed my acquiescing would be enough. I had to get him to let go. Him trapping me… it was suffocating.
Curtis remained silent for a few seconds, shifting his weight so his hips were right behind mine. Through his dress pants, I could feel the hard bump of his erection, and my fear spiked.
“I’ve been checking up on your grades at school,” he said, his voice noticeably huskier. I fought the urge to buck, to try to fight. Instead, I bit my lip, fearing any movement would further arouse him and prompt something horrible. “You’re dangerously close to falling below that 3.5 average that pays for your tuition. Have I not been generous?”
“Yes… yes, you have. And I appreciate it.”
“Not enough apparently.”
He jutted his hips forward, rubbing his cock against my behind. A whimper threatened to tumble out of my mouth, but I clamped down on my tongue, tasting blood. A tremor had started to take over my body, emanating from the erratic racing of my heart, and I struggled to keep my fear in check, to not let it dominate me. I wouldn’t stand a chance of fighting back, otherwise.
“Can you afford to pay for your last year alon
e? Can you really afford forty thousand dollars of debt right now, with your mother’s medical bills?”
Bastard.
It was something I had asked myself many times, in the stupid hope I’d figure a way out of this mess that didn’t end with me filing for bankruptcy, or seeing my mother living on the streets or dead in a pool of her own blood in her bathtub.
“No,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer right away. The feeling of his crotch wedged against me turned my stomach, and I tilted my chin up to keep the vomit from rising out of my mouth.
“Then shape up,” he finally clipped. “And remember that.”
Sweet, cool air rushed onto my backside as he let go, jerking the curtain to the side as he stepped out of the shower and stalked away. I didn’t release my breath or dare move until I heard the door close, and even then I couldn’t make myself move right away.
I stood there, trembling, trying to hold it together. The scar on my leg burned with the remnants of terror, the kind that scarred you for life. Its icy sheen caked my heart, crushing what fragile hopes I had for the future. With a
stifled sob, my knees gave way and I sank to the floor, huddling there while I tried not to shake myself apart.
CHAPTER 4
Devin
THE WEEKEND WAS SPENT
trying to do homework, which mostly resulted in my either having a smoke or a drink to forget that it was the first weekend I had spent alone in four years. I didn’t do well on my own, because when I was alone, I had too much time to think, and that always ended badly for me.
I was still hungover when I pulled into the parking lot on Monday,
after scraping together my homework assignments. I killed the engine but didn’t get out right away. My first class was Painting from Observation I - with Darcy. Since I was majoring in photography and she in fine arts, not of a lot of our classes overlapped. Taking electives together was our way of spending more time together on campus. I wished now I’d never opted to pick up a damn paint brush.
I swallowed against the hard knot buried at the base of my throat. Once I’d dropped Erik off from the club and returned home, Darcy had been all I could think about, to the point where I couldn’t even walk into
a room without seeing some girlie thing she’d left behind, like she was haunting me. I’d had girlfriends all my life, but none of them came close to comparing to Darcy and what she had done for me. I really thought she’d be there forever, “the One” or some shit, but I guess people could only take so much before they cracked.
A loud knock on the window startled me. Erik stood outside, pointing to his wristwatch.
Nervous jitters crawled over my skin, twisting my stomach into a web of knots as I snatched up my portfolio and got out of the car.
“I tried texting you this morning to see if you wanted a ride but didn’t hear anything back,” Erik said as we walked.
“Oh. Sorry, man,” I mumbled, checking my phone. There was Erik’s message, at seven o’ clock a.m. I was about a quarter of a way through a screwdriver around that time.
Erik tensed.
I could tell he was forcing himself to slow down to match my sluggish pace. “I finally asked her out.”
Early morning sunlight cut through the naked trees and glared in my face, seeming to throw gasoline over the raging
headache inside my skull. I swore my brain was liquefying. Groggily, I reached up to grab my sunglasses, patting the bare neckline of my sweater.
“Uh, Devin? Did you hear me?”
“What? Oh, sorry.”
“You said that.”
“Guess I’m a bit out of it today.”
Erik studied me, frowning.
“Who did you ask out?” I asked, cutting him off before he could ask questions I didn’t want to answer.
His face lit up. “Sapphire. I got her to go out to dinner with me.”
“Do you know her real name?”
“No. She never would give it to me. I’m gonna try to get it out of her at dinner.”
I pictured him holding hands with her, hugging her, kissing her, laughing with her. Things I wouldn’t be doing with Darcy - or anyone - anymore.
“That’s great,” I said through gritted teeth. “Good luck with that.”
“You don’t sound very thrilled.”
“Headache. Forgot my Excedrin. So when are you guys going out?”
“I don’t know. Both our schedules are pretty packed. I’m thinking we’ll keep it low-key, probably just do dinner someplace quiet before the game on Saturday.”
I almost groaned. Games used to be the highlight of my week, and now I couldn’t seem to remember I was even a member of the Sanhope Hawks anymore. “Did you go back and ask her?”
He grinned, looking very proud of himself. “No, I asked her Friday night when we were there.”
I reviewed all of our conversations, how much he had played up
The Fox Hunt. It had never been about the women, or rather, it had always been about one woman.
“Is that why you dragged me along? For moral support or something?”
Because you didn’t actually care about making me feel better, you were only too much of a pussy to ask her out on your own like a man?
Erik looked away as his face colored, confirming my suspicions. It didn’t piss me off though. I was more disappointed than anything. “I’ve been working up the nerve to ask her out ever since I first saw her. I don’t know, man. She does crazy things to me.”