Authors: Kristen Ashley
“Hard,” he growled then finished, “as nails.”
“Shit happens,” I hissed, the guard crashing down.
What could I say?
This was Gray and he was standing in front of me three years after he crushed me acting pissed.
“Yeah it does. You let it. You seek it out. Shit definitely fuckin’ happens.”
He was right about that. I let it, Casey and I sought it out. It happened.
And when I finally,
finally
got shot of it, I went back to the only home I ever had and found that other shit happened and that was worse.
“Christ, I’m standin’ right here lookin’ at you and it’s like I’ve never known you.”
“Are we done here?” I asked tersely.
“We’re done,” Gray answered immediately but neither of us moved. We just stood there, staring at each other.
Finally, Gray ordered, “Walk away, Ivey.”
Then, out of nowhere, in my head I heard his voice order,
Say you love me, Ivey.
Say you love me, Ivey.
Say you love me, Ivey.
Then I heard my voice reply,
I love you, Gray.
I held his stare and didn’t move.
Neither did Gray.
And then he dealt the death blow.
“I told you tragedy would strike. What I didn’t know when I was sayin’ that shit was that the tragedy would be the sweet, funny girl who was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen would turn into a hard bitch in fancy clothes gettin’ paid to pretend every night, twice a night she was a whore.”
I held my breath.
Gray finished, “Fuck me. Tragedy.”
Then he turned on his boot and walked away.
I watched him until he rounded the corner of the building and disappeared.
Then I walked to the car, opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.
I was buckling my seatbelt when Brutus asked quietly, “Everything okay, Ivey?”
“Everything’s okay, Freddie,” I whispered, felt his shock when I used his real name but looked out the side window.
We got five miles from my house before it overwhelmed me.
Brutus helped me up to the house, took the key from me, opened the door and held me on my big, expensive, comfortable couch while he called Lash and I sobbed.
Then Lash came over.
Lash slept in bed with me mostly because I cried the whole night clutching him in my arms until I passed out.
Freddie slept on my couch.
A Barrel of Laughs
Four years and two months later…
“Ivey, babe, phone!” Lash shouted and I looked from watering the big pots of flowers with my hose to Lash who was standing in our French doors.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Don’t know. A lady. Says it’s urgent.”
Great.
A mysterious lady calling the home phone saying it was urgent.
Clearly, I urgently needed a timeshare in Boca.
Lash was such a pushover. How he became a millionaire was anyone’s guess. The only thing I knew was that regardless of being gay, he had a good eye for gorgeous women, a talent for finding ones who had what it took on the stage, no aversion to essentially selling tail for a living and, not unusually for a gay guy, a flair with costumes and interior décor.
I released the handle, the spray stopped, I set the nozzle on a lounge chair and headed to Lash.
We’d made it official. We didn’t get married or anything but we moved in together three years ago. We did this because I was a determined celibate who had sworn off men and Lash, for his own reasons, needed to keep his reputation as a ladies’ man when he was anything but. I personally thought his reasons were a little screwed up. But they had a lot to do with the fact that he had a ball-buster of a mother who lived close who made Grandma Miriam look like a sweet, old granny who baked cookies (which she did), crocheted doilies (which she did) and pinched your cheek, smiling at you with bright eyes that shared irrevocably that anything you did was hunky dory with her (which she did
not
). Lash got to brag his lie that he nailed down the finest piece of ass in Vegas and I got relief from men thinking they could best the challenge that was me.
Luckily, Lash wasn’t only hot; he was also big and had learned to take care of himself so most men didn’t mess with me.
And anyway, if they did, Brutus had my back. I didn’t dance anymore, I managed the house. Still, Brutus had my back. He still picked me up and drove me to the club every night but Lash took me home seeing as we lived at the same place.
Brutus did this now because he was my second true friend in the whole world.
See? Totally told you shit like women sobbing their hearts out because the man they loved with everything that was them crushed it then unexpectedly showed up at a performance where you were stripping, ripped it out and crushed it again would do that shit to you. Hot, strapping gay guy. Big-ass, badass black guy. Anyone.
I made it to Lash; he handed me the phone then leaned in and kissed my cheek before he wandered away.
Seriously. Who needed a real lover when you had a handsome, affectionate man who adored you, put a beautiful house over your head, gave you a great job, lavished you with fabulous clothes, shoes, purses and jewelry and would never break your heart?
On this happy thought, I put the phone to my ear and greeted, “Hello?”
“Ivey?” A somewhat familiar but I couldn’t place it voice asked.
“Yes, this is Ivey. Can I help you?”
“This is Janie. The Rambler? Mustang? Do you remember me?”
My heart spasmed, clenching so tight I could barely breathe. I reached out a hand, practically stumbling until it caught the back of a chair and I held on.
Something had happened to Gray.
She’d never call me unless something had happened to Gray.
Something bad.
“Of course I remember you, Janie,” I said quietly.
“Right,” she said efficiently. “Well, I don’t reckon you’ll give a shit but you should know that Gray’s about to lose his land.”
My body jerked and my heart spasmed again and it didn’t hurt any less than the first time.
“What?” I whispered.
“He’s about to lose his land. In fact, he’s about to lose everything. All of it, the house, the trees, the horses, everything. Shim and Roan came back after Roan’s thing and told everyone about you then Roan goes back to Vegas all the time and heard you hooked up with a millionaire so you’re the only one we know who’s got the kinda money who could help him out. I know you probably don’t give a shit and Gray’d lose his ever-lovin’ mind he knew I was even makin’ this call much less tellin’ you his troubles but this is Gray, this is Mustang and it’s the least you could do.”
There was a lot there.
First, it killed me everyone knew I danced for a living.
Second, it killed me she thought I wouldn’t give a shit about Gray.
Third, it killed me that Gray would lose his ever-lovin’ mind if he knew she was calling me.
And last and most importantly, it killed me that Gray was about lose his land.
“For you,” she went on, “probably a drop in the bucket, seein’ as you’re shacked up with a hotshot. But for Gray, it’s his land. And you should know, the bank that holds the note is Buddy Sharp’s bank.”
My body jerked yet again.
Oh God.
She wasn’t done.
“And you should also know, Buddy Sharp is scrapin’ together money to buy that note. So, they foreclose, the bank won’t own it and Jeb Sharp won’t own it. Buddy will.”
Oh God!
“How did this happen?” I asked.
“Mirry’s not growin’ younger through the years,” she snapped like I should know that which I should but honestly, no offense to Grandma Miriam but she was seventy when I met her over seven years ago. I was kind of surprised she was still alive.
Janie continued, “Got to the point Gray couldn’t take care of her, his uncles are all assholes, his cousins proved to be too so he had to put her in a home. He’s self-employed, got no insurance and he’s Gray. He didn’t put her in a shithole. He put her in the best place in the county. Had a bad crop of peaches last year, the bills from the home, a bad year with crops, shit happens.”
“This is awful,” I whispered.
“Well…
yeah,
” she snapped again like someone would say, “No duh”.
“So, what about his uncles, his cousins, can they help?”
“Did I not mention they’re assholes?” she asked.
“Yes, I know that Janie, but this is their family’s land. It’s been in that family for six generations,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, well, ‘bout twelve years ago, Gray’s Daddy died and they wanted their bit. They didn’t get it. Seems that left a sour taste in their mouth so they’re not feelin’ like steppin’ up. So they’re not.”
Those assholes!
I controlled my bizarre flash of temper because, really, this had nothing to do with me (anymore) and asked, “I…uh…how much does he need?”
“You kickin’ in?”
My back went straight and I repeated. “How much does he need?”
“Are you kickin’ in?” she repeated too.
“Yes,” I said instantly and I had absolutely no clue why.
“Right, I’ll get Shim or Roan to find out what they can find out. I’ll call you back.”
“I don’t want him to know it’s coming from me,” I said quickly.
“Well…
yeah.
” There it was again, the “No duh.”
“Janie,” I said softly, “I’m helping out.”
“You know, it took a lot for me to make this call, way you cleared out on Gray, way you cleared out on
me
. So, I appreciate it and all that you aren’t a total bitch and are gonna help out but don’t think you doin’ it means anyone’s gonna kiss your ass.”
I wasn’t breathing.
Therefore I had to force out, “The way I cleared out on Gray?”
“Yeah, one minute, he’s at home takin’ shit from Mirry because he told her you were movin’ in, the next minute, I’m callin’ him because you didn’t show up for your shift. The next thing we know, people saw you take off with that brother of yours. Then the
next
thing we know, rumors are pool hustlers are on the game in Grand Junction. You tried, I’ll give you that, gave it a go. Too bad you couldn’t manage not to walk all over Gray while you were doin’ it. I could find another girl. Lot harder for him to do it.”
Even though my heart was beating like a sledgehammer against the wall of my chest, my blood pressure was also skyrocketing.
“Actually, it wasn’t hard, seeing as when I came back three months later to explain, I saw him cuddling on the street with a pretty little brunette so, please, I know you’re tight with Gray and you think he’s one step down from God, but don’t bullshit me.”
“What?” she whispered.
“I think you heard me. And also, I’ve never been to Grand Junction except to drive through it. The last game of pool I hustled was before I went to Mustang. I haven’t taken a dollar from the game since Buddy Sharp and I didn’t hustle him. So if people were trash talking me after I left, they can go fuck themselves. And as for you and Gray believing it, the same goes for you. Now, although this catch up phone call has been a barrel of laughs, I’ve got flowers to water. Call me when you know how much he needs and I’ll get it to you. Take care of yourself, Janie.”
Then I beeped the phone off and threw it on the chair.
Then I deep breathed and I did it for a long time.
Then Lash walked in and asked, “Who was it, babe?”
I looked to my fake boyfriend, smiled bright and lied, “Nobody.”
Then I walked out of our fabulous living room through our fabulous French doors to our fabulous flower bedecked cool deck around our fabulous pool and I grabbed the hose and recommenced watering.
Artillery
Two days later…
I was at the club, sitting at the way back around the corner of the bar, three stools next to me empty, Brutus standing against the wall guarding me.
Unfortunately, he needed to do this. I hadn’t danced for long and I hadn’t danced in a while but still, Rue the burlesque dancer was Vegas legend.
And I worked the house.
This meant I hired, fired, scheduled and managed the waitresses, the bartenders, the bar and the floor.
Part of me managing the floor was getting tricked out every night, putting on amazing dresses that exposed a fair amount of flesh (in a classy way, I thought, and so did Lash considering he chose and bought all my dresses for me), high-heeled, fuck-me shoes and expensive jewelry. Often, I wandered the floor smiling, touching men’s arms, shoulders, hands, leaning down and brushing their knees or the outside of their thighs with my fingertips all the while inspecting their tables and the state of their drinks. If they were half done, I’d give the high sign to a scantily clad waitress and convince them with a practiced, come-hither smile that even though they were only halfway done with their drink, they needed another one.
I sold a tremendous amount of booze. Lash told me that within a month of me taking over the floor, the bar’s turnover doubled.
This was why he paid me a shitload and kept me in amazing dresses, shoes and jewelry. This and the fact that the waitresses and bartenders worked his nerves, they were always screwing each other then getting in fights, breaking up and taking that shit to work. When I took that off his shoulders, he was beside himself.
This was also because he adored me.
So I was visible. You paid your money, there was a chance you’d still see Rue. She wouldn’t be dancing on the stage in high heels with fans but it was better. She would be working the crowd and she might come close, you might see those bedroom eyes, that hair and that smile right in front of you and, if you were lucky, she might touch you.
Men were pretty stupid on the whole, I thought. Dropping that kind of money to see women dance nearly naked (that said, Lash’s girls were the shit, no one in Vegas was better than them and even I had to admit there was an immense sensual beauty to it) and getting wound up because some woman touched your thigh and bent over so you could look down her cleavage.