Hard Core (Hard As Nails Book 3) (10 page)

“Who’s that?” I question with a nod.

“It’s uh…No one. I mean, it’s just a friend who wants to meet for lunch.” She looks up at me, and I swear I see trepidation flash across her face before she smiles. “As fun as this has been, I really need you to go. I have to hop in the shower and run out to meet…my friend.”

“This friend of yours have a name?”

“Um…” Her eyes flutter around the room before landing on a magazine on the entry table. “Lucy. Her name is Lucy.”

Lucy. Right. I’m betting if I snatched up that magazine, there’d be evidence that she’d made up the name Lucy on the fly. I want to tell her she’s a horrible liar, but instead I simply nod and ease to my feet. “Well, have fun with Lucy. I’ll see you at the club later?”

The relief on her face and her audible exhale would almost be funny if I wasn’t imagining all the reasons she might be lying to me. Is
Lucy
actually a guy? Does she have a boyfriend? Is everything I believe about her—that she is good and pure and classy and honest—wrong?

“Sounds good,” she says.

I travel light, and I already have my keys in my pocket, so I tilt my head to the door. “Walk me out?”

“Sure,” she says, obviously willing to do anything to get me out of her apartment. She even takes my hand and it’s a wonder she doesn’t actually start pulling me forward.

“You sure you’re okay?” I test her, stopping after only a few steps. “I don’t know…I thought I saw something on your face when you checked your phone.”

“Oh? This?” She points to her own face. “This is just my usual resting bitch face.”

“Nah,” I shake my head. “You’ve got a resting angel face.”

She seems stunned silent, and then she actually seems to get angry. She drops my hand. “Will you stop it with the angel stuff. I’m not an angel. I work in a fucking strip club, Axel.”

“You’re a
waitress
in a fucking strip club.”

“Yeah, well maybe that’s not all I’m going to be doing.”

“What?” Is she saying what I think she’s saying? Blood races through my veins, and my throat tightens at the thought of her getting on stage and taking her clothes off in front of anyone but me.

She looks panicked, so I’m guessing yes.

“Never mind. Forget I said that.”

“Forget you said what? Because I’m a little unclear on what it is you’re telling me, Alyssa.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“But maybe you should.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” she says mutinously. “Now, I need you to leave. Please.”

We stare each other down, and I think about digging in my heels, but she looks seriously freaked, and instinctively I know I’ve pushed her enough for one day.

“Okay,” I say quietly. I take her hand back, even though it’s just a few more steps to her door. When we get to it, I open the door, but then I turn and lower my head, kissing her on the cheek. “Have a great lunch. I’ll see you later.”

When she closes the door quietly behind me, I pause, resisting the urge to push my way back inside and make her come clean about who Lucy really is and whether she really intends to start stripping.

I stop myself for two reasons.

First, I can’t very well demand total honesty from her when I’m not being completely honest myself. I too carry my own demons on my shoulders, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m about to spill my guts to her about them. No, if I can help it, I’m never going to discuss my past, including my ties with King, or the shit I’d seen and done in the military with her.

Second, pushing her might do more damage than good, ruining the forward progress we made today. Whether she knows it or not, we made great strides in our relationship. She’d been curious about me. She’d offered to talk if that’s what I needed. We’d even joked around, talking about nothing important. I’d enjoyed every second (okay, except the part where we’d talked about my inability to follow orders), and I think she did, too.

Today was a mixed bag, but I’m going to focus on the fact she’s letting me into her life. Slowly but surely.

Of course, choosing not to confront her about her shit right now is one thing. Not doing anything about it is a whole different story.

And that is not happening.

Chapter Fourteen

Alyssa

I watch Axel drive away from my apartment on his bike, and for the first time ever, I feel the faintest stirring of interest in taking a ride myself one day. Not just on any bike, of course. Axel’s bike. With me sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his strong body, my cheek resting on his back as we navigate the open road.

We could go anywhere we wanted. Be whoever we wanted. Unfettered by the burdens and limitations of real life.

Of course, it’s never going to happen. I’m far too terrified of bikes to actually go through with it.

When I was young, I was traveling with my father down a dark road in the late hours of the night. A motorcyclist passed us because my father has always been a slow driver. The other guy sped toward a green light, and he was creamed in the intersection by a drunk driver that ran a red.

The motorcyclist had done nothing wrong, but he’d died a horrific death. For a young, impressionable girl, it was a horrifying sight that’s stayed with me ever since.

I sigh and step back from the window. Of course I was lying about meeting a friend named Lucy for lunch. I’m not meeting a friend at all. I do have an appointment, however. It’s just, I’m in no hurry to make it.

The appointment made for me with Laura Kerns has been twice confirmed by the two texts I received: one by Harvey Prince, and the other by Laura herself. I have the address where I’m supposed to meet Laura, and an encouraging, “Can’t wait to see what you can do,” by Harvey.

I only met the guy once, when he hired me, and he wasn’t a bad looking guy. But ick.

My time to get the lay of the land by waitressing is coming to a rapid end. Laura is going to give me lessons on stripping, and according to Harvey, he wants me to take the stage within two weeks. He even mentioned Sugar Bare being down a stripper, and I suspect he’s talking about Marley. I haven’t given up trying to get hold of her, but I’m no longer expecting her to return my calls.

I have two weeks to learn how to take off my clothes in front of a room full of men. It actually shouldn’t take that long. As a kid, I took tons of dance classes. I’ve got great rhythm. But it’s not the dancing part I’m worried about. To many women, the act of stripping is a freeing experience. I’m not one of them. I’m too private and closed off, too shy to bare myself on a stage in front of a building full of strangers and not second guess everything I’m doing.

But life is hard, and because it’s hard, we are often left with difficult choices. This is my difficult choice. For the past two months, Harvey’s been paying me a stripper’s salary, just as he said he would. He’d fronted me that extra cash, knowing I needed it for my dad’s medical bills, and he’d given me time to get used to the idea of stripping. Now it was time for me to fulfill my end of the bargain.

It’s amazing the things we will do for the people we love, but I know my father would do the same for me. He hasn’t had the best life, but he’s always tried to give me the best possible life he could. I owe it to him to do everything I can to ensure he gets the best treatment he can. Plus, let’s face it, I’m not being selfless here.

I love my dad. He’s the only person in the world I can count on.

At least, he was. Now part of me wants to believe I can rely on Axel. But I chalk up that part to a lingering romantic side that should have died a long time ago.

What a fool.

What a dreamer.

It’s time to wake up and face reality again.

I’m going to start by trying to call Marley again. She’s a woman I’m sure has loved a man in her lifetime. A woman who thought she could count on a man. But she’d been selling her body to make money in the end. Relying on the only person a woman could ever rely on.

Herself.

* * *

Several hours later, frustrated and really starting to worry that I haven’t been able to reach Marley, I park in front of the building where I’m supposed to meet Laura Kerns. It is situated down a long, narrow alley. The buildings surrounding it are about six to seven stories high, with overhangs that block out the mid-afternoon sun.

Getting out of my car, I approach the glass door of the studio, which is painted with neon paint advertising pole dancing classes. Once I reach the door, I take a long, deep breath, place my hand on the handle and pull it open. A bell chimes as I step through the entrance, and I’m hit with a strange combination of smells: sweat and floral. It’s not unpleasant but rather is oddly soothing.

I approach a tall wooden counter against the left wall. To the front of me is a long hallway, and from one of the adjoining rooms, I can hear the treble of hip hop music. My experience with hip hop music begins and ends at the club. It’s not a familiar sound to my ears as I’ve always been a country gal when it comes to music.

“Alyssa?”

I turn to see a woman coming from a side door I hadn’t noticed.

“Yes.”

“I’m Laura.” She offers me her hand, and smiles warmly. She’s nothing like I had pictured in my mind. She has straight blonde hair, cut just beneath the shoulders. She’s agile and feminine, her face smooth and youthful, her body toned yet delicate. She looks more ballerina than pole goddess.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, as well.”

“Follow me.”

Laura leads me into an empty room. It’s spacious, with a metal railing lining the mirrored wall, and a well-maintained light wood floor. White can lights adorn the ceiling, with light pooling in carefully placed patterns upon the floor.

I try to take it all in, but even though the room is large it feels claustrophobic. The only escape I have is through the large interior window that is perched along the hallway and beside the door. It’s only there that I’m able to see outside of the room and I’m able to remind myself that whatever I’m doing in my life at the current moment is only temporary.

“Just so you know, I’m not going to ask you to do anything you don’t want to do,” she says softly.

“I’m not sure I want to do this at all,” I say quietly.

She smiles warmly. She’s like an immovable force of strength and goodness. “I understand. Harvey sometimes
persuades
more than he should when it comes to these things. But it’s important to remember you always have a choice. You can leave here and you can leave Harvey’s club behind anytime you want to.”

“Why are you telling me this?’ I question softly. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting Harvey what he wants?”

Her smile has a trace of bitterness now. “At one time, maybe. Now the only thing I’m supposed to do is teach you how to dance.”

I take a deep breath. “Okay. Then maybe we should just get started.”

“You’re anxious, and I don’t want to make you more nervous, but would you mind if I…” She circles me with a careful pace. My eyes follow her until I can no longer see her as she takes refuge behind me. Her hands hover around my waist, and she peeks around me to look at me in the mirror, silently asking for permission to touch me.

Hesitantly, I nod. She lowers her hands to my waist, and then my hips.

“You’re tense.” She removes her hands from my body, and in the mirror ahead of me, I can see her tilt her head sideways, sizing me up and down. “Let go of the rest of the world and focus on the music.”

She places her hands back on my hips and guides me into motion. I twitch my hip to the right, and then to the side, following the deep beat of the music with the support of her hands guiding me. She directs me in one dance move after another, smiling when she realizes I have a dance background and she can push me harder than she expected. Soon, I’m sweating from exertion, but with each contortion of my body, I find myself feeling like weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

I look at myself in the mirror, and my eyes are sparkling. Oddly, I think of Axel—not our time in bed together, but the easy conversation we’d eventually had in my kitchen. I want more of it, I realize, which makes me stumble.

Laura looks at me, but I shake my head.

He’s winning, I realize, just as he predicted. He’s worming his way into my heart. But I can’t let him. And I can’t be deceived by the freedom I’ve felt while dancing. It’s easy to feel it when I’m dancing for the first time in a long time, with Laura’s encouragement and comforting presence at my side. But it’s a fleeting feeling, one that’s sure to subside once I’m standing naked on a stage for a few hundred horny men to gawk at.

I wonder how interested Axel will be in getting to know me then.

Chapter Fifteen

Axel

A lot can happen in seven days. Flip the coin, and the inverse is also true. A lot can
not
happen in seven days. For example, in seven days, I still haven’t been able to coax Alyssa into telling me the truth—that she’s taking lessons at a dance studio in anticipation of taking the stage and stripping. I know this because I followed her to her lunch date with “Lucy” and even though I didn’t follow her inside (believe me, I would have if I thought I wouldn’t get caught), it was clear enough from the blazing advertisements on the exterior of the studio why she was there. She’s been going to the studio every afternoon for a week now, always before she starts work.