He went back to rummaging through boxes. “Here we go,” he announced, lifting one lid and looking inside. Inside was his mother’s wedding veil, wrapped in protective plastic. He handed it to Faith. Underneath there was more. A handkerchief trimmed in blue. Other things that he didn’t even know what they were called, but they all looked decidedly wedding-ish.
“Ah.” Faith sighed as she opened the plastic and pulled the veil from its packaging. Standing, she held it over her head and moved to stand in front of the mirror, examining herself from multiple angles.
He watched her with a growing tightness in his chest. When had his sister gotten old enough to marry someone?
“So you are going to put in an appearance. Right?” Faith asked, rotating until she stopped before him.
He shook his head, confused. “What are you talking—”
“Evan. His bachelor party?”
He groaned. Apparently she wasn’t forgetting about that.
An appearance. That didn’t sound too bad. He’d have a beer, toast the groom and be out the door before Evan and his buddies became too unbearable.
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll put in an appearance at Joe’s.”
Nine
The assholes at tables three, four and five were unbearable.
But then she supposed that was the nature of assholes everywhere. They were unbearable or they wouldn’t be assholes. It didn’t help that there were so many of them, all clamoring for more drinks and more girls like they were children at a candy store.
She reminded herself that she’d dealt with unbearable before. A lifetime of it, in fact. Rowdy drunks flashing dollar bills as though that gave them a right to do everything. Anything. She knew their type even before she came to work in a place like this. They didn’t rattle her. She’d faced them and worse. Only tonight she would be facing them as Joe’s newest entertainer. If not a dancer onstage, she was still available for private performances. Still for sale.
She lurked in the back, near the front door, watching them, these thoughts gnawing at her and making her stomach churn. She’d been inside the building for almost ten minutes, observing from the shadows, when Joe spotted her. He made a beeline for her. Stopping in front of her, he cut right to the point.
“I’ve already told Marty you’ll be taking on clients tonight.” He mopped his ever-present handkerchief against his glistening forehead, his gaze pinned to her expectantly. Expectant because he didn’t think she would actually go through with it? After all this time of refusing he was probably waiting for her to chicken out.
“Sounds good. I still get to pick them though,” she’d reminded him with a lift of her chin. She needed to keep some control and Joe needed to remember that. If she didn’t like the guy, she wasn’t taking her clothes off for him.
His lip curled in a smirk. “Right.”
Ignoring his clear skepticism, she stepped around her boss and headed for the employee dressing room. A couple of the girls were already there, getting prepped for the night. She stood before her locker and hung her bag on the hook.
Unzipping the bag, she slid the dress she brought out of the vinyl bag, giving it a slight shake in hopes of tossing out any wrinkles. It used to belong to Malia, before she grew and passed up Piper in height. Unfortunately that made the minidress entirely too short for Piper to wear out in the real world. But then Joe’s wasn’t the real world. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it in public . . . which was the point. Her chest wasn’t much to brag about, so she was counting on showing a lot of leg in the hopes of gaining attention—and customers—that way.
The garment was a definite change from her usual jeans and Joe’s Cabaret T-shirt, but she knew she needed to look the part of someone willing to entertain in the back room tonight.
Not only had she brought the dress, but she’d also splurged on lingerie. She was already wearing some of it—a white lacy thong and strapless push-up bra. The delicate fabric felt different on her skin. It made her feel different altogether, which she supposed was okay since she doubted she would be the same Piper Walsh when she departed this place today.
She’d spent more than she could afford on the new items. It was a far cry from the simple cotton panties and bras she usually got for herself at Wal-Mart. She winced when she’d slapped her credit card down on the counter of Angelina’s Boutique, but she told herself it was a necessity. She would more than make up for the expenditure. She could hardly strip off her dress to reveal serviceable cotton panties and bra. That wouldn’t get her any tips. She needed a bra that actually made it look like she had breasts. As for the panties . . . she hoped she would get used to them. Plenty of women wore G-strings.
Sliding off her jeans and T-shirt, she reached for the simple shift dress. It was black and would serve as a contrast to the lingerie hiding underneath.
She’d gone with white because everyone else wore the obvious bold colors: red, black and varying shades of pink. She could honestly say she had never seen white on any of the girls inside these walls. Hopefully she would stand out and that would get her a lot of requests for private dances—a lot of requests that she could then cull from and choose.
Serena whistled. “Are those bare-ass cheeks there, Piper? Girl you got some sweeeet junk in the trunk.”
Piper’s face burned as she slid the dress over her head, glad for the cover.
She shrugged at the dancer, and tried not to appear as self-conscious as she felt. Serena only worked a couple nights a week. She didn’t need to work more than that. She was that good—a favorite among the customers.
Piper cleared her throat. “I thought I might give a few private dances. Earn a little extra money.”
Serena stared at her hard before speaking. “Joe bully you into this?”
“No. I need the money.”
Serena snorted. “We all need the money, sweetie. That’s how it all starts.”
“I’m sure. Why else would anyone want to do this?”
A corner of Serena’s mouth lifted. “Oh, don’t fool yourself. There’s a certain thrill . . . it can be a power trip. You’ll see.”
Piper shook her head, rejecting that. “I don’t see that ever happening.”
Serena smiled, the fine lines around her eyes crinkling. Piper had never noticed those before. She wondered if Serena had a plan for the future or was this it? Stripping at Joe’s until she was forty? Fifty?
Serena had to be in her early thirties. She graduated from high school with North Callaghan. And yet she was looking older than her years. That’s what this life did to you. And it was the life Piper was taking for herself.
She watched as Serena rotated in front of the mirror, adjusting the tiny strings of her underwear that wrapped around her hips. Her skin was still smooth and taut there. No sign of the age that her face revealed. She guessed in a darkened club no one noticed the signs either.
She’d been told before that a girl could pocket fifty or a hundred dollars per private dance—and that was even after giving Joe his cut. She supposed if anyone would know, Serena would. She was one of the most popular girls here. It wouldn’t hurt to ask about that and glean any other information that could help. If Piper was going to do this, she wanted it to be worth it. “How much you think I can make a dance? Fifty? More?”
“Ah, honey. Aiming high for your first night, huh? You must think the innocent schoolgirl look is gonna be a big hit.”
She shrugged, feeling suddenly foolish. She didn’t think she was anything special. She knew, even with her wardrobe change, her looks weren’t very flashy and that’s what you needed in a place like this. Flat-chested, dark hair, brown eyes. It definitely wasn’t the description of a centerfold.
Serena continued. “Well, it depends how much you rev his engine.” She turned back to study herself in the mirror, adjusting her large breasts inside her demicups.
“You don’t actually have to get naked, do you? Not all the way?” She would feel naked enough with her bottom popping out of her G-string
. She had a generous backside, and wearing a G-string made her feel almost obscene. But then she guessed this whole situation could qualify as obscene.
She was about to dance naked for strangers. She was going to expose her breasts for men whom she knew nothing about. It didn’t get much more obscene than that.
Serena snorted and rolled her eyes. “You really are a babe in the woods. Still. Even after working here.”
She shrugged. The last guy to see her boobs had been Rex Smithy in the eleventh grade and she had been so disappointed in herself for that. Actually, for everything that went down between them. All the dry humping and feeling each other up and coming so close with him was one big ball of regret when it turned out he was a lowlife. Little better than Colby Mathers and that boy loved to torment her through high school. She blamed herself for not figuring that out sooner about Rex.
He turned out to be like all the rest of the guys in her high school and after only one thing when it came to her. Other girls got asked to prom and introduced to parents. Piper Walsh was a dirty secret you kept on the side, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks good enough for screwing in the back of your truck, but that was it. Get her some Dairy Queen, drive her to the bluffs and call it a date.
And she’d come so close with Rex. For weeks, they had worked up to it, doing everything except IT. And then she caught him bragging to his friends that he’d been fucking her nonstop (douchebag!) but was about to dump her since prom was close and no way could he take a Walsh to prom. His parents were expecting him to take a girl that went to their church.
The timing couldn’t have been better, she supposed. She had overheard him, incidentally, the night before she had planned on going all the way with him. She’d finally decided she was done with all the dry humping and ready for the real thing. She thought she loved him. She thought he loved her. She thought together they would graduate and leave Sweet Hill behind and move to a city where they could get great jobs, marry and start a family. Yeah. Delusional. But she thought that because he had told her that. All lies.
Her mother had always warned her that men lied. Usually this was when she was high or drunk and just broke up with some loser. Since her mother was usually wrong about everything in the world, Piper had dismissed her advice. Apparently Mom had been right about something, after all.
It might have been seven years since Rex, but she’d given men and relationships a wide berth since then. It was too risky when you didn’t know whom to trust. And you had another life to support. She wasn’t responsible for just herself so she couldn’t afford to make those kinds of mistakes. She wouldn’t.
She cleared her throat. “Um, you don’t do things to the men—” Piper knew girls did tricks on the side. She refused to do that. Prostitution was an absolute line she wouldn’t cross, but she didn’t think she could bring herself to touch and be touched either. At least, nothing more than a cursory pat or brush of hands.
Serena swiveled around. “Look. You take it as far as you want to. If you’re into it, then fine.”
Piper made a sound of disgust and Serena rolled her eyes. “Okay, Sister Teresa. It’s not like a man hasn’t ever seen you naked before.” Her hands seized her own breasts and squeezed them over her demicups. “They’re tits. Yours might not be big but trust me . . . they’ll want to see them.” She let go and turned back to the mirror to practice her pouty face. “At least here, you get paid for your time and no one breaks your heart.”
Piper nodded, thinking about that room positioned in the corner of the bar where she would soon perform private dances for strange men. She’d been curious enough to enter it once before. In the daylight when no one was using it. It was dark. Not very large. A leather love seat—red, of course—was positioned against a far wall. A small table beside it and nothing more.
“You do what you want. But just one piece of advice if you’re hoping to make any actual money doing this?” Serena’s voice softened. “It helps to be a little into it. Otherwise you better be a great actress.”
Her stomach turned. “I don’t think I can . . .”
Serena stepped forward and patted her shoulder. “You’d be surprised. It’s not as hard as you think. Well, maybe the first dance, but after that?” An expression came over her face that was faintly wistful. “Just don’t be surprised if there comes a time you get your rocks off with a client. That’s all I’m saying. I wish someone had warned me so I didn’t feel so guilty.” She blew out a breath. “There. That’s my favor to you. If you can enjoy it a little, it will come across and you’ll make more money. Don’t blame yourself when it does. You’re only human.”
Her stomach knotted. “What if the guy gets it into his head that he wants more and I don’t?”
“Marty is just inside the room. One word from you and he puts an end to it.”
She nodded. She knew that, but it was a useful reminder. She wished it alleviated her quaking nerves.
She’d never be alone in the room. Never be unprotected.
And yet she still felt vulnerable. Every moment she was in that room, baring herself to strange men, she would feel exposed.
After this, after she made enough money, she would never put herself in a position where she felt vulnerable and weak again.
Ten
Evan and his friends had rented one of those obscene stretch limos for the night. Despite his insistence that Hale accompany them in the limo, Hale drove himself and met the group at Joe’s Cabaret. Now he wouldn’t be trapped. He could leave whenever he wanted. Which wouldn’t be too much longer than when he arrived.
He’d come up with an excuse to meet them there. As county sheriff, he was never really off duty. If a catastrophe occurred, rare though that may be for a county as sparsely populated as Sweet Hill, he would need to be available. At least, that’s how he viewed the job. The same way his father had. The sheriff of Sweet Hill never really clocked out.
When he stepped inside the building, he blinked, adjusting to the dim lighting. He scanned the room, assessing it all in a sweeping glance. Of course, it wasn’t the first time he’d visited the establishment. Aside from the time he’d been here to check out North and Piper dumped water on him, he’d been called in a couple times over the years for minor infractions.
He scanned the room for her now. It was instinctive. Think of her. Look for her.
He didn’t see her working. Maybe she took his advice and quit this place.
Although nothing about his last encounter with Piper in the park indicated she respected his advice. On the contrary. She looked like she wanted to stab him.
Evan spotted him, lifting partially from his chair as he waved him over. The dozen or so men in his group occupied three tables closest to the stage. Of course. They appeared to be having a very good time if the number of pitchers and shot glasses on their tables was any indication. They were also the rowdiest group in the bar. And that was saying something for a Friday night.
Evan stood and clapped him on the back. “Hey, cuz! Glad you made it.” He turned to his group. “Hey, everyone! Hale made it,” he called out as though they were all good friends.
Hale couldn’t recall knowing any of them, but evidently they knew who he was. Which only annoyed him more. He didn’t enjoy pretense—people pretending to be something they weren’t. In this case, he wasn’t friendly with any of his cousin’s friends. Didn’t even know them. Why fake like he gave a shit about any of them?
“Awesome! Now we can break whatever law we want and not get in trouble!” a guy sitting at Evan’s table proclaimed, his face flushed bright red either from beer, the warmth of the room or a sunburn.
“Doesn’t quite work that way.” Hale sank into the chair Evan dragged over from another table.
Hale didn’t break rules for his actual friends. Why would he break them for these pricks?
Evan chuckled and tossed a balled-up cocktail napkin at his friend. “Yeah, tough luck for you, Clive. He’s my cousin. I’m the only one who gets favo
rs.”
Hale stomped back on the impulse to tell Evan it wouldn’t work that way for him either—cousin or not, groom-to-be or not. He’d never given Evan favors before. When he was a teenager he would come to Hale about his speeding tickets, hoping Hale could get his dad to take care of it. Hale had refused. He doubted Evan had forgotten that. He was merely showing off. Pretending they were something they weren’t.
Just one hour. That’s what he had promised Faith. He only had to suffer these assholes one hour and then he could leave. He had tomorrow off and he’d already made plans.
He was going to get out of Sweet Hill and head to the springs to fish in the morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he went fishing. It had always cleared his head. There was something about the solitude of it. The simple act of casting his line in the water and listening to the subtle slap of waves. For some reason, he found himself craving that. Peace and quiet to settle the unease that had been plaguing him lately.
Following a morning of fishing, he’d drive to Alpine. He had texted Annabelle last night and she texted back right away. Yes, she was down for hooking up. She promised to cook him dinner, rattling off some wine that paired beautifully with buttered salmon and asparagus. She was always treating him to expensive wines, which he liked well enough but a beer and burger would suit him just fine.
Really, he didn’t need to drink or eat at all when he went to see her but he couldn’t be a complete dick and just fuck her and bail.
He just had to get through tonight and tomorrow he’d get a long overdue day off. A little fishing and he’d get laid by the kind of woman most men only admired in the pages of Penthouse.
Thankfully the music was loud enough that conversation with Evan and his friends didn’t seem required. They hooted and hollered at the girls on the stage like adolescent boys and high-fived when the dancer awarded them with attention—as though they had somehow earned it through any merit on their part and it wasn’t her job to pay attention to them.