Follow You Down (4 page)

Molly reminds me of our mom, Dolly, in a lot of ways. Our mom stayed with Jack for years after he started beating the shit out of her, then me, and then Logan. She would have never left him. She felt like her sons needed their father. What she didn’t understand is that fifteen years later, her actions would still be affecting our lives. Her not leaving Jack years before they actually got divorced had fucked me up for life. I would watch him beat the shit out of her daily and then beg her for forgiveness, and she would always give it to him. When I would ask her why the hell she would do that, she would say because she loved him. Their relationship, the fucked up marriage that I had to witness, is a big part of what makes me know that love is bullshit. Molly will hurt Logan, because that’s what people do; they hurt each other. She may not mean to, but she has to look out for what’s best for herself. At the end of the day, Logan’s feelings don’t mean shit. Everyone has to look out for their own wellbeing; what happens to everyone else just falls to the wayside.

“Look, Logan, I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You’re already too invested in her and Lyric, and you’re not even dating her. I just think you should smarten up and take a step back. I don’t want to see you get hurt by some heartless bitch again like you did with Elizabeth.”

The moment the words heartless bitch come out of my mouth, I regret them. I know that Molly is nothing like Elizabeth, Logan’s ex-fiancé. She’s not a heartless bitch; I just need Logan to start looking out for himself.

“Fuck you, Lucas. You don’t know shit about her.”

“Really, Logan, I don’t know shit about her? She’s a fucking woman. She will hurt you like all women do. You need to start taking care of yourself, man, because I’m getting real tired of having to babysit you and your emotions all the goddamned time. Get it together, Logan. She has a fucking boyfriend that she chooses to live with! If she wanted to be with you, she would. Quit falling for her poor pitiful me bullshit and man up.”

“Man up? That’s your advice. What? Should I be like you, Lucas? Fucking random chicks and constantly cutting down everyone around me who tries to have an actual relationship. Is that what you mean by man up? I should be like Jack Wade? Like father like son, right?”

Motherfucker. How did one conversation about Molly turn into my own brother comparing me to the man I hate more than any other person? The one person whose death I would fucking celebrate.

“You’re going to compare me to Jack? After all the shit I’ve done for you, that’s what I get? You blowing this whole thing out of proportion and comparing me to that shithead. Get the fuck out of my truck, Logan. I know you’re my brother, but right now I want to beat your fucking face in. Get the fuck out of my truck.”

“Hit me, Lucas. Just another reason that you’re just like Jack.”

I don’t think about what I’m doing; I just act. I get out of the truck and walk to the passenger’s side, flinging the door open, and dragging Logan out into the parking lot. I grip his collar in my hands and slam him into the side of the truck. Right now, more than anything, I want to hit him. How did this night turn from amazing to total shit so quickly?

“Hit me, Lucas. I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes.” He’s pushing my buttons on purpose. Trying to get a reaction out of me, but I won’t let him. If I ever laid a hand on Logan, I would never forgive myself.

“You know what, Logan? I’m not going to hit you. I really fucking want to, but I won’t. I’m going to let you walk right back in there and play the happy couple with someone else’s girlfriend. Let you be delusional for a while. And you can think I’m like Jack all you fucking want to, Logan, but you know deep down that’s bullshit. I’m the only fucking person who has always had your back. So you can get pissy with me for voicing my opinion, but you know I’m fucking right, Logan.” I shove him into the side of my truck once more before letting go of his shirt and walking back to the driver’s side. I jump in and slam the door. I hear him cussing under his breath as he straightens his shirt out and walks back toward Ricky’s.

I need to get some frustration out. I consider calling up Dani, but I know I can’t do that. She likely wouldn’t answer, and if she did, I doubt she would agree to an angry fuck.

Despite my better judgment, I do the only thing I can think to do.

I grab my phone, scrolling through contacts, knowing this is a bad idea. I hit dial and it only rings twice before she picks up. I don’t even give her time to speak. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Unlock the door and be naked on your bed when I get there. Got it?”

Candice giggles, “Can’t wait.”

I hang up the phone, put the truck in drive, and peel out of Ricky’s gravel parking lot.

I really wish I was headed to fuck a girl with red hair and even redder cowboy boots, but right now, I’ll have to settle for a brunette in cheap stilettos.

Dani’s right; I am an asshole.

“So, how was your first night at work?” I’m sitting in front of my laptop, switching between sipping coffee and chugging Diet Coke. It’s what I like to call the breakfast of champions. My mother is drinking her coffee, black, and looking at me through the screen. She gives me the evil eye when she sees me place my coffee on the table and grab the Diet Coke.

“It was… interesting.”

“Interesting? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, two of the waitresses are really nice, I’m a terrible bartender, and I got asked out on a date.” I say everything in a rush as one run-on sentence, hoping she will miss the part I said about having a date.

By the way her mouth pops open and her eyebrows shoot up; I know she didn’t miss it.

“A date? Did you say yes? Is he good looking? What’s his name? Should I have your father do a background check?”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Yes a date. Yes, I said yes. His name is Lucas, and you don’t need to run a background check on him.”

She smiles a half-smile at me over her coffee mug. “You didn’t say if he was good looking or not.”

I was hoping she wouldn’t catch that part. “He’s fucking gorgeous, Mom. And kind of an asshole. I am so doomed.”

She laughs at me. “No you aren’t, Dani. You’ll be fine. You’re young! You’re supposed to be going out on dates with hot guys, even if they are assholes.”

“I thought you would be mad at me because of everything that happened with Reggie.” Reggie Donald, my married ex-boyfriend and the reason I moved to Monroe in the first place.

“Honey, all of the drama Reggie brought into your life wasn’t your fault. Some of it you brought on yourself, but most of it, he piled on you. You were young and naïve and I would like to think you have learned from your mistakes. In fact, I know you have.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You told me about this Lucas boy. You didn’t tell me about Reggie for months because you knew that I wouldn’t approve. You knew what you were doing was wrong, so you hid it. You aren’t trying to hide anything now, so I know you’re learning.”

My mother, always having faith in me even when realistically she shouldn’t. Have I learned my lesson? Who fucking knows? Part of me agrees with her. My relationship with Reggie changed me in many ways. When I met him, I was still the kind of girl who believed in fairy tales. Now, I know better. I’m not a fucking Disney princess. Prince Charming isn’t some fair-haired hero. He’s a jackass who feeds you bullshit just to get in your pants and breaks your heart without a second thought. Prince Charming is a fucker.

“Dani, you need to forgive yourself, baby. Shit happened. You made some not so great decisions, but everyone does. Let it go, baby.”

I smile halfheartedly at my mom. I know she’s right, but there is a part of me that will never forgive myself. I caused someone serious heartache without a second thought. In my book, that makes me a cold-hearted bitch.

“Let’s talk about something else, Mom.” She nods and begins to tell me all about her new yoga class. My mother is a workout enthusiast. She has been on more diets than I can count, and she really doesn’t need to be. She has a naturally small frame, but she continually works out and watches what she eats to maintain it.

We talk for a few more minutes about nothing special. This is the part of my relationship with my mom that I love; we can talk about anything. She’s my best friend, which is completely cheesy, but totally true. I finally tell her I’m going to try to get some more unpacking done before I have work tonight, tell her bye, and close my laptop.

I spend the next few hours unpacking boxes throughout the house. My dishes are finally all in cabinets; my clothes are hung in my closet or placed in drawers, and pictures and books sit on my shelves.

I pass by the spare bedroom and open the door, pausing for a second before I walk in. When I started searching for apartments, I insisted that I only needed one bedroom. But my mother disagreed, and being the kind of girl I am, I relented and bought the two bedroom. I figured I should spend the hush money Reggie paid me on something to establish my new life since he fucked up my old one, plus, I needed a workout room.

I walk in the room and stare at myself in the wall adjacent from the door. It’s covered in a floor to ceiling mirror that takes up the whole wall. Against the far wall is a treadmill and elliptical. There are a few yoga mats, a set of free weights, and an exercise ball sitting in the corner. I haven’t been in this room since I moved all of the equipment in, but I quickly realize I need to spend more time in here. I spot the silver pole in the center of the room and walk up to it, wrapping my hand around the shiny metal and walking around in a circle. When I decided to turn this into a workout room, I knew I had to have a stripper pole. It’s the best workout around, and part of who I am.

I wrap my leg around the bottom of the pole, still holding it with my hand, and do a spin. The small spin leads to another; this time with more force and speed. I am instantly transported back to the main stage at Temptations, wearing nothing but a black pair of see-through boy shorts and black stiletto heels. Winding around a pole placed in the center of the stage, I watch men in designer suits throw hundreds on stage while I dance to Radioactive.

I loved dancing. I loved the attention. I loved the money, but most of all, I loved the exhilarating feeling I got every time I stepped on stage. I had no insecurities, no worries. It was just me and the beat of the music as the rhythm worked itself through me.

I realize I’ve been mindlessly dancing while day dreaming when I catch sight of myself in the mirror and am met with a reflection that has flushed cheeks and rapid chest movements as I try to catch my breath.

That part of my life is over, and while I will always miss it, I have to start over at some point. Now, instead of dancing in front of crowds for hundreds, I’m dancing in front of a mirror just to prove to myself that I’ve still got it.

Hours later, I’m standing in Ricky’s making sure everything is stocked and ready for tonight.

Molly told me Thursday nights are usually pretty busy, so I’m in slight panic mode

“So, Dani, what’s your story? You from around here?” Molly sits across from me, leaning over the bar.

“Has anyone ever told you that your boobs are huge?” She chuckles and nods. “All the time, dude. I hate them though, so to me it’s not a compliment. Has anyone ever told you that you have a great ass?” It’s my turn to laugh. I have heard that quite often. From running so much, religiously doing squats, and dancing, my ass and legs are fuller than most girls’.

“Lucas sure told her that last night.” Wynee walks in and plops down in the stool next to Molly, shoving her shoulder. Molly’s eyebrows knit together and she eyes me suspiciously. “I saw that. Lucas seemed to be paying you some special attention.” I was hoping they wouldn’t notice. I haven’t decided how I will handle the questions that I’m sure will arise when they find out I moved here from Dallas; now I’m having to deal with questions about Lucas. Questions I don’t have the answers to.

“Special attention, my ass. The only reason Lucas even gave her the time of day is because he hasn’t fucked her yet. Once she puts out, which she will soon, he’ll get bored with her. Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.” Fucking Tiffany. I’ve only known this girl for twenty-four hours and I already can’t stand her. Fake blonde hair, fake blue eyes, fake boobs, the only thing real about this girl is her bitchy personality.