Anywhere But Here (10 page)

Then again, Jane Austen died single so what the hell did she know either?

“So . . . ?” It was the first time she’d spoken since our little spat about her lover boy. She was biting her lip and waiting for my reaction.

“It didn’t completely suck,” I admitted.

“I’ll take it. So what did you make of the characters?” She reached for the notebook before I could grab it.” I watched in amusement as her eyes scanned the page of notes I’d continued to add to throughout the film. She lifted her unamused stare to mine. “I don’t think ‘Wickham is a pussy with a tiny dick and compensation issues’ is the kind of character dissection Ms. Renner is looking for.”

I shrugged, completely ignoring for one second that the words “pussy” and “dick” came out of her pretty mouth. “I wrote down my unbiased and honest interpretations of the characters.”

“Yeah, well we’re going to need to do some rephrasing.” She nibbled her bottom lip between her teeth as she scribbled across the page and then read it out loud. “Deceptive, manipulative, conniving, sense of entitlement, zero sense of responsibility or culpability. That sounds much better.”

“And familiar,” I mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay, moving on. I don’t think we can call Lydia an annoying slut.”

She continued on down my list, altering my descriptions. The only thing we could both agree on was that the Collins guy was a creep. After we had our character breakdowns done, and she typed it up, we went to work discussing the plot and the major points and themes. After a while, I just started agreeing with her because my head was hurting and I realized I wasn’t going to win any arguments. I read over her shoulder as she typed, making a few suggestions. For once she was agreeable and seemed satisfied when we finished and she saved the document.

“Now what?” I leaned back on the couch and kicked my feet up on the coffee table.

“Now you go home.” She shoved my feet off.

“Come on, we haven’t had ice cream yet, and I’ve been waiting all night for my cherry on top.”

She glowered and I fought back a grin. I wasn’t successful.

“You ate three slices of pizza, half a bag of chips and an entire row of Oreos. There’s no way you even have room for ice cream.”

“There’s always room for dessert.”

“Maybe for you, but after you forced those chips and cookies on me, I can’t eat anything else,” she protested.

I leaned forward. “I might have pressured you into that first cookie, but the second, third and fourth were all you, so just admit that you can’t resist, and let’s go get the ice cream.” I didn’t give her a choice. I took her arm and pulled her through the labyrinth to the kitchen and fetched the tub of ice cream from the freezer.

“Where are the spoons?”

With an irritated sigh, she indulged me and opened a drawer of silverware. I grabbed two spoons and then hopped up on the counter, patting the spot beside me. Again, she indulged me, even taking the spoon I offered, but she made a show of not being happy about it.

“You know you want to,” I taunted softly once I’d pried the top off the carton and tore away the seal.

Begrudgingly she dipped her spoon in for the first bite and raised it to her mouth. She couldn’t hide the hint of pleasure on her face when her lips closed around the spoon. I didn’t waste any time digging in and scooping out a huge bite, riddled with bits of cookie dough, and shoving it in my mouth. She laughed when I winced as all the blood rushed to my mouth and the effects of brain freeze set in. I ignored her and took another bite, making a show of enjoying it. “This shit is good.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, dipping her spoon in for another small bite. “It’s all the sugar and fat. Makes the taste buds go crazy.”

“That’s not it. I mean it is, but it isn’t.” She looked at me like I was crazy. “Just hear me out. What’s your favorite fruit?”

“Pineapple,” she replied.

I blinked, trying to decide if it was worth it to make a joke about that. “Good to know,” I settled for letting my face do the talking, sliding my tongue along my bottom lip, thinking about tasting her instead of this ice cream. She clearly caught on to the direction of my thoughts, but was confused.

“What did I say now? There’s no way there’s anything dirty about pineapple.”

I chuckled. “You can Google it after I leave, but back to my point. Would you say pineapple is as sweet as ice cream?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But which one do you enjoy more? And be honest, because I already saw your face when you took that first bite.”

“Okay, fine. Ice cream. It’s a treat that I don’t have as often, so I enjoy it more.”

“Nope. That’s not it either. The reason you enjoy it more is because you know you shouldn’t. Even as you indulge, you tell yourself just one bite, or maybe just two and then you’ll have something healthy, or you’ll work it off tomorrow. You try to deny yourself, all the while you crave it, the things you’re not supposed to want.”

“You’re not talking about ice cream anymore,” she accused softly.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but the point I’m making is that sometimes the things we’ve convinced ourselves we shouldn’t want, or others have convinced us we shouldn’t want, aren’t as bad as we believe. Sometimes they’re exactly what we need.”

“And what happens when that’s not the case? When you find out you were right, but now you’ve made a big mistake?” She wasn’t talking about ice cream anymore either.

“At least you took a chance, dared to risk it and didn’t settle for what anyone else told you was right or wrong. That’s life. Deciding what risks are worth it and figuring out for yourself what is right.”

“I can’t decide if that’s wisdom or recklessness.”

“Probably a bit of both, but I suspect you could use a bit of reckless in your life, and I don’t mean making stupid decisions or any of that try everything once bullshit, ignore the consequences, because that’s just stupid. I’m talking about living
your
life. Unafraid. Unashamed. Stop being the perfect girl everyone expects and be you. If you keep going, trying to be everything everyone else wants you to be, you’re going to lose yourself in it. You can only put on the show so long before it becomes the truth, and it would be a fucking shame to see you turn into another one of them.” I slid off the counter, not even sure if I knew what I was doing or saying anymore. I was just fucking with her, but then it turned into something else, and I meant every word I was saying to her.

She jumped down after me, spitting fire. “What do you mean? ‘
One of them?’
I
am
me. I’m not trying to be anything else.”

I turned and took a step, bringing us almost nose to nose, or well, chest to nose. Leaning down, I held her gaze in mine. “Right now, right here, I believe that, but come Monday morning, you’re going put on the costume. The hundred dollar jeans, the perfectly styled hair, the layers of make-up that might as well be a mask and everything else that makes up the girl we all see in the halls every single day. And you’re going to go on pretending that you’re happy doing it.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy with my life just the way it is?” She didn’t back away even an inch, holding my gaze steady.

“The girl here with me right now, she’s got fire in her. The one who walks down the halls holding the hand of her perfect boyfriend, all she’s got is a fake smile. You asked me what I’ve noticed, well that right there is one of the things I’ve noticed about you. The only time you’re not pretending is when no one is watching.”

“You’re watching, so what does that say?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” But I couldn’t deny I was curious as hell about why she didn’t put on the same show for me that she did everyone else. From the look on her face, I guessed she was just as clueless.

The rattle of the garage door just off the kitchen jerked her to action. She pulled away, looking almost panicked like she wanted to hide me. “My mom’s home.” She either hadn’t expected her mom back or that we would be working this late.

“And there’s the mask.”

“Just shut up okay.” She grabbed my arm and started shoving me toward the den. “You don’t know everything and I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Right, of course, because what would Mommy Dearest think if she walked in and saw me?” I didn’t mean to sneer at her, it just sort of came out that way, what with how she was rushing to get rid of me. I stalked toward the den. She waited to greet her mother while I grabbed my shoes and shit. I would have just slipped out the front door, and I’m sure Shae would have preferred that, but my keys were sitting on the kitchen counter, so I had no choice.

Hushed conversation turned to terse silence when I stepped back into the kitchen. Not knowing what to do when both women turned their attention on me, I figured I might as well introduce myself to the woman who looked about as pleased to see me in her kitchen as she would some stray animal, but Shae leapt into action before I could. She grabbed my keys and insisted to her mother that she was going to see me out.

I let her usher me out of the kitchen and to the door, even though I didn’t need her to see me out. With my hand on the door knob, I looked over my shoulder. “Good night princess.”

She reached out to stop me, speaking softly, “I know you think I’m trying to get rid of you because my mother won’t approve, but it’s not her opinion I’m worried about.” She ducked her eyes momentarily, before raising them timidly to mine again. “Whether you believe me or not, you’re not the embarrassment in this situation, and I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were.” With that she lowered her hand from mine and turned.

Funny thing, I did believe her. “Night Shae,” I called.

“Night,” she whispered over her shoulder.

Shae

April 30

Present . . .

I tossed back the shot and bit down on the lime, squeezing the juice into my mouth to cut through the tequila. Trinity was making a sour face as she did the same.

“Bleck,” she spit. “No more tequila for me.”

“Then pick your poison, because I’m buying tonight.” I was already waving my hand at the bartender to get him back over here.

“Woah, maybe we should slow down. We just got here, and neither of us has eaten yet.” When the bartender reached our end of the bar, she asked him for a couple of menus, and I managed to slip in a request for a margarita. The little cantina in downtown Myrtle Beach was pretty packed, no surprise for a Saturday night, but I was trapped in my own little world, hoping the margarita was my way out. I didn’t want to be in my head at the moment. It was filled with images and thoughts that made my brain hurt and the annoying, beating thing in my chest ache. They were unleashed the moment I saw Cammie get off the back of Kellen’s bike. I wanted them burned from my mind, or at the very least, drowned in alcohol.

What started out as a night to erase a bad day was quickly becoming about forgetting a lot more than that. Oblivion was my mission. It was the only thing that was going to make me stop seeing him with her. My margarita came and I ordered the first thing on the menu that looked good. Trinity’s eyes were on me as I raised the glass to my lips and drained half of it. I’m pretty sure the emotion in her eyes was worry.

“Shae, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I will be.” In about three more drinks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked hesitantly.

“You mean your brother and my former best friend? Nope. Don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it. That’s what I’m working on.”

“Okay,” she breathed out a resigned sigh. “Fuck it.”

The next thing the bartender was bringing her a strawberry daiquiri and I was asking for another margarita. By the time our food made it out of the kitchen and to the bar in front of us, we were laughing and already a bit sloshed. I think the bartender was getting a great deal of entertainment from us, either that or he was annoyed as shit and wanted to throw us out. It was hard to tell.

“Come on, it’s time to dance.” I rose up from my stool, threw back the last of my second margarita and grabbed Trinity’s hand, pulling her up.

“Hold on, we have to get your card.”

“Oh yeah,” I laughed and flagged down Miguel to close out our tab and then we were out the door and off to our second stop, a dance club down the street.

The DJ was hot, the music was loud and the energy was invigorating. I dragged Trin out on to the dance floor and proceeded to lose myself in the beat, letting it fill me up and drown out all the other noise in my head. We danced our tipsy asses off until the buzz started to fade and I was dying of thirst. A quick trip to the bar for water solved the thirst, and then a round of mystery shots took care of the fading buzz. I shook my head as the shot slid down my throat, burning up my insides once it hit my stomach.

“Damn! What was that?” I leaned over the bar.

The bartender let out a deep chuckle. “It’s called a Surfer on Acid. Jager, coconut rum and pineapple juice.”

It was good and definitely heavy on the Jager and rum. I tried to slap some money down, but he shook his head and informed us it’d already been taken care of.

“No more shots!” Trinity declared after that one. “I’m going to be wrecked tomorrow.”

I glanced around the bar for the mysterious source of our free shots. My gaze landed on a couple of guys with eyes parked on us. A chin lift and a wink confirmed they’d paid for our shots. They didn’t give off that complete creeper vibe, and might have been perfectly decent guys, but they looked barely twenty-one if they were of legal age at all, probably university students. It was my experience with those kinds of guys, that they had expectations if you encouraged them. Not what I was looking for. Tonight wasn’t about finding anyone to spend it with, but just having a little bit of uninhibited fun.

I felt bad accepting the free shots and blowing them off, but they didn’t ask if we wanted them. I leaned in so Trinity could hear me. “Two guys at the far end of the bar looking this way.” She glanced out of the corner of her eye and then nodded in acknowledgement. “They bought our shots, so either we gotta move, or they’re going to come over here and want to dance.” If Trinity was interested, I wouldn’t get in her way, but I’d just as soon move on to the next place.

“I’m ready to go if you are.”

Arm in arm we slipped from the club, the effects of those shots settling in and warming our cheeks despite the slight wind chill nipping at all our exposed skin.

“What about this place?” I stopped in front of another bar, the promise of loud music beckoning us.

“Hey ladies, come on in and let us buy you a drink.” There were three guys standing outside blowing cigarette smoke from their lips.

“No thank you.” I pulled Trinity along. “Let’s try to find a place where we can at least make it in the door without getting hit on.”

She laughed. “Dressed like you are, I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“Hey, your dress is just as short as mine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t look like you.”

I scrunched up my face in a frown. “Are you trying to say I look like a hooker?”

“Oh come on, you know what I mean. You’re gorgeous, Shae. That hair, the eyes, all of it, and that dress to top it off. You’re a solid twelve out of ten.”

“Whatever, you’re a fifteen.”

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments. I know I don’t have anything to complain about, but you’re like one of those sirens from Greek stories, luring men to their deaths.” She giggled and I gave her a playful shove as we continued past the bar. She stumbled but caught herself and laughed some more.

I didn’t know where we were going. I scanned the streets for another bar that looked appealing, but that’s not what I found. I stopped suddenly, Trinity came to a halt beside me. I turned a grin on her. “I know where our outfits won’t matter.” Then I pointed.

Her eyes grew wider and her eyebrows shot up. “You’re either drunker than I thought or you’ve lost your mind. We can’t go in there.”

“Why not? I guarantee no one would look twice at us.”

“You’re actually serious? You really want to go in there?”

I shrugged. “I’ve never been in one before. Come on, let’s just check it out. It could be fun. If it’s super sketchy, we’ll just leave, but it’s not like we’re going to see anything we haven’t seen before.”

“That’s what you say now,” she mumbled but followed me across the street where a flashy, but not tacky, sign proclaimed we were headed into a gentleman’s club. The fact that they even called it a gentleman’s club instead of coming right out and advertising it as a strip joint, left me hopeful that it might be a classy place, or at least as classy as strippers could get.

After being ID’d at the door, we apprehensively made our way inside the dimly lit club. Sexy music pumped through the place, encouraging my body to sway and move, but I held back. Everything was done in dark, rich colors, very sleek and opulent and unexpectedly clean. Not at all the seedy place I wouldn’t have been surprised to find. There was a bar along the back wall, and booths and tables all set to face the focal point of the room, a long, bar like stage that ran down the middle, surrounded by occupied stools.

There were very few open seats anywhere, predictably, most filled by males of all ages. We found one small table in the corner and claimed it, but like every guy in here, our eyes were riveted to the stage and the gorgeous blonde in the red thong and corset. I observed the performance with mild curiosity that actually turned to appreciation as the dancer went on. The way she moved up there, so confidently and smoothly, it was totally alluring. She was as graceful as any ballerina I’d ever seen, but what she was doing was a far cry from ballet. Still, I had to admit that it required an immense amount of skill, strength and passion.

She slid to her knees in an easy move and then popped open her corset, flinging it to the side, leaving her in something that barely passed for a bra. There were hoots and hollers and jeers and the almost trance I was in broke.

“You need a drink?” I asked Trinity. “I sure as hell feel like I do.”

“Yeah, but no more shots. Maybe just a rum and Coke.”

Not feeling confident enough to flag down one of the string bikini clad waitresses, I navigated my way around the stage to the bar, where I caught the bartender’s attention and then waited for him to finish mixing drinks. I turned my back to the bar, once again letting my eyes drift to the stage. Oh damn, she’d lost the top entirely in the seconds that I’d looked away. I pivoted around and leaned back over the bar, hoping my cheeks weren’t red with obvious embarrassment.

“When are you up?” A loud, rough voice sounded beside me. I turned my head to see an average looking guy, probably in his mid thirties eyeing me up and down like I was on the menu.

“I uh– I’m not– I don’t dance here,” I managed to spit out.

“That’s a shame.” He truly looked disappointed, but fortunately went back to the current show on stage. I scooted a few feet further down the bar to wait. The large bartender was looking this way as he served up the drinks, and then he was moving toward me. He could easily double as a bouncer with the muscles that stretched his black tee taught across his chest. He had a sandy head of hair tied back in a ponytail and a scruff covered jaw that hadn’t been trimmed in a few days. He pulled up directly in front of me and leaned over the bar, bringing his dark brown eyes level with mine.

“What can I get for you sweetheart?”

“Get her an audition, Luke,” my admirer from moments ago chimed in.

The bartender now known as Luke tilted his head. “You looking for a job?” His eyes roamed down as far as they could see with the bar separating us and then back up.

“No, just a couple of drinks.”

“Alright then, what’s it going to be?”

I gave him Trinity’s drink order and then added a Southern Sour for myself. He made the drinks right in front of me, mixing Trin’s rum and Coke before combining the Jack, Southern Comfort peach liqueur and 7-Up for mine.

“That going to be it for you?” he slid the drinks to me, and I nodded. “On the house tonight” he winked. “And if you change your mind about wanting a job, let me know.”

I thanked him, and carried our drinks back to the table.

“I’m pretty sure I just got offered a job,” I told Trinity, setting our drinks down.

“Of course you did,” she laughed. “So what do you think? Is there a career move in your future?”

“Not bloody likely.”

“That’s too bad, looks like these girls make a killing,” she teased.

We sipped our drinks and watched as a new girl took the stage, casting her spell of seduction over the room. The scantily clad waitresses served the patrons, and other girls wandered the room sitting on laps and leading guys down a hallway to what I could only assume were private rooms. Everywhere, big burly guys, like Luke, were stationed making sure none of the customers got out of hand.

I couldn’t say I had much of a desire to ever come back to a joint like this, but all in all it wasn’t the disgusting experience I might have expected. I still wasn’t going to pretend to have any idea what drove a girl to make her living this way, but I wasn’t going to judge either. Our glasses were empty, and as interesting as it’d been, I jerked my head toward the door with a questioning look. Trinity nodded, and we made our way safely back out into the night.

“Well, that was, ummm . . .”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I have words either,” I laughed. “But it wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be. It just seems that girls as beautiful and talented as that would have more options.”

“Yeah, but I know from experience that sometimes when you’re stuck in a bad place, you don’t see the other options. We do what we think we have to in order to survive, and I’d say those girls are getting by alright with the money they’re pulling in.”

“Still, money’s not everything,” I commented.

“True,” she exhaled a deep breath. “So, what next?”

“I don’t know, but I’m cold, so we better find somewhere before my ass freezes, unless you’re ready to call it a night?”

“I could go a little longer.”

I looked down the streets for prospective bars. Not sure what direction we should pick, I pulled up a map of places nearby on my phone. “Let’s go this way. Says there’s a great place for dancing around the corner.”

“If it’s the one I know, they have a mechanical bull too.” Trinity nudged me encouragingly with her elbow.

“Yeah, that’s probably not happening,” I snorted.

We rounded the corner of the gentleman’s club, teetering on our heels, latched onto each other for support. An alley ran behind the club, leading to a back parking lot. A commotion drew our attention there.

“Get off of me!” An angry female voice shouted.

“Come on baby, all we want is a private show,” another voice–a slurred male voice–jeered.