Never Say Never, Part Two (Second Chance Romance, Book 2) (2 page)

She circled around the group and returned to the front. Janet’s redhead bobbed into the studio and she steeled herself for whatever the bitch would have to say.
 

“Ah, it’s your favorite class, Emily.”
 

“Can I help you?”
She asked it through gritted teeth.
 

“With the experience you’ve got, this must be the easiest for you. I’ve been considering cancelling all your other classes since this,”
Janet paused and gestured to the poles and dancers, then continued, “has become so popular.”
 

This had to be Janet’s little joke. There was no way Emily would stand for teaching pole dancing alone.
 

“No.”
That was her answer and it would stay that way. The rage bubbled up beneath the thin coating which was her calm expression. She was stretched thin from containing that anger whenever she talked to Janet. But what could she do?
 

She had to find another job.
 

Janet tapped her foot in time to the music with a strange smile on her face.
 

“I think you’re forgetting who owns this studio.”
The woman narrowed her eyes slightly then widened them again. “If I tell you to pole dance, you pole dance.”
 

“Janet, you’ve got to be fair about this.”
 

“There’s nothing I have to be fair about, bitch,”
she answered, lowering her tone to a whisper and glancing back at their paying customers. “I owe you nothing after what you did to Chase.”
 

It still puzzled her –
how had Janet found out about her past? And how much did she know?
 

“I didn’t do anything to him,”
she snapped back, and a girl in pink spandex glanced up from her incessant pole swinging. Emily regulated herself and continued, “Except make him fall in love.”
 

Janet hissed at her and she let a cool smirk slide into place.
 

Inside she was a seething mess, but she’d never give the woman the satisfaction of seeing that anger.
 

“I’m looking for something else.”
 

“Huh?”
 

Emily sighed –
the dance studio owner wasn’t the smartest cookie in the batch. “Another job. I’m looking for another job.”
 

“Took you long enough. I never wanted you here in the first place.”
 

Emily tried turning her back, but the woman was insistent on making her presence known. She strolled alongside her, towards the mp3 player.
 

“What a crap song. Of course you chose it. Though, I would’ve thought you’d have chosen a melody appropriate to your tastes.”
 

Emily ignored her again and clapped her hands once. “All right, let me see you guys do this to the music. Remember what I taught you last lesson. Combine the two simple moves and let it flow.”
 

The women were nervous about it; a middle-aged lady near the front rubbed her palms together and gave an anxious squeak of anticipation.
 

“Don’t be nervous, ladies,”
Janet spoke up in the only effort at kindness Emily had witnessed from her in the months that’d passed. “You’re in accomplished hands.”
 

She shot the ‘enemy’
a look of utter confusion. Compliments from her –
there had to be snow on the way. That or hell was in the process of freezing over.
 

“Our Emily here,”
she patted her on the back mid-sentence, then continued, “was a real-life stripper before she came to us.”
 

Bitch. Unprofessional bitch. How could she tell the students that?
 

The ladies froze and stared at Emily, as if they’d never seen her before.
 

“So what?”
A younger girl grappled with her pole and did a spin which turned into a sit. “I think that’s awesome.”
 

She was a sweetheart, but she was probably the only student who’d feel that way about Emily’s past.
 

The brunette gave a cheeky grin and wrestled herself off the floor, jiggling in her too-tight pants.
 

“So that’s why you’re in good hands.”
Janet was somewhat deflated by the lack of reaction from the ladies. What had she expected? Likely an uproar but certainly not cool acceptance.
 

“Totes! But, like, what was it like?”
The girl, she had to be nineteen, popped a hip and pouted.
 

“It was like stepping up to bat at Dodger’s Stadium, except with less clothes and baseball.”
 

The tension in the dance hall shattered with an eruption of laughter from the students.
 

“Trust me, it’s not a career path I’d advise you to take. Why do you think I’m here?”
She gave a cheeky wink. And that was the end of that. “Now, focus guys, from the top.”
 

She turned up the volume and settled in to observe. At least it was the last class of the day.
 

“You think they respect you?”
The redhead muttered it, fierce as she could manage without making the tension between them obvious. “You think Chase ever respected you?”
 

“I don’t care.”
 

“He didn’t respect you. You were just a plaything for him. An easy rebound to get over me.”

“Yeah, well what does that say about you?”
Emily studied the dancers, refusing to make eye contact with the witch.
 

“This isn’t over.”
 

“It never is,”
Emily said, but more to herself.
 

Janet gave an almighty huff and stalked off, defeated. It was a tiny victory, but it didn’t gratify Emily in the slightest. She shouldn’t have to win battles with her employer. This was a screwed up situation and she had to find a way out of it.
 

The students twirled, the music beat through the studio, and Emily waited, anger and determination building in her gut.

CHAPTER THREE

“What are you doing here?”
Mama sat up in bed, a bible open across her lap with a knitted, pink cross laying between the pages for a placeholder.
 

“I came to check on you.”
Emily dropped her tote on the chair beside her mother’s bed. “It’s been a while.”
 

It had been months since she’d come for a visit. Each time she was here it was the same: guilt, anger, pain. It reminded her of the time she’d dropped the picture frame in her mother’s bedroom.
 

It was after daddy had left –
rest him –
and she’d hung around staring at the happy photo of her parents on their wedding day. She’d reached out to touch it and the picture had fallen and shattered into bits.
 

Mama hadn’t cared that the glass had cut her feet, only that the frame was twisted and the picture ruined.
 

Emily moved to take a seat and her mother raised an eyebrow.
 

“You didn’t have to come see me, girl.”
She hadn’t closed the good book.
 

“I wanted to.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Mama drove her up the wall, but she’d made sure the old lady was looked after. The old age home wasn’t cheap.
 

“Oh well,”
she answered her daughter, “it’s better than talking to these idiot nurses, at least.”
 

Mama patted her curled grey hair and smoothed the wrinkles beside either eye. She’d been beautiful in her day. A real treasure for the man who caught her. Except her core was rotten and no amount of make-up, youth or beauty would change that.
 

“Gee thanks.”
 

“So, what is it today?”
 

Emily took a breath. “What do you mean?”
 

“Whenever you’re here, it’s either to bitch or ask for help. What is it this time?”
Mama snapped the bible shut and pushed it onto the light, wooden dressing table beside her.
 

“I wanted to see you. Tell you how well things are going.”

“That would be a first. Be careful, you might shock me to death.” The old woman pulled her upper lip back into a horsey smile of disdain.
 

A nurse bustled in, squeaking in her shoes and carrying a plastic tray with a dome-shaped lid.
 

“Oh joy of joys, my dinner has arrived. What’s it today, Melody?”
 

The nurse’s expression was the picture of irritation. She slammed the tray onto a table nearby and charged off without a word, back into the hall to squeal the silver trolley down to the next cubicle-sized room.
 

“How rude.”
Mama snapped the lid up and examined the contents of the plate.
 

Steak cut into strips and an array of cooked vegetables.
 

“Mama, I came to talk to you. You have a minute?”
 

The old lady picked up her fork and toyed with the bits of meat. It actually looked pretty good. There was a mushroom sauce on the side and Emily’s stomach grumbled.
 

“About what?”
She deposited a bit of the steak into her mouth, chewed and muttered under her breath.
 

Emily plastered a fake smile on her face. “About how well things are going now.”
 

“Oh?”
Mama narrowed her eyes and carried on feeding herself meat. She tore at the flesh and masticated it.
 

Anxiety burbled in Emily’s gut.
 

“Yes. I’m out of the strip club and the debt is paid off.”
 

“I see miracles do happen,”
she answered, spearing a glazed carrot. “But if you’re not at that scummy club, how are you earning?”
 

“I’ve got a job at a dance studio.”
A lump sprang up in Emily’s throat. Janet wanted her out and she didn’t have other prospects yet.

“Good for you.”
But there wasn’t an ounce of pride in her mother’s answer. It was as bland as she thought the food was. Once again, it was as if Mama didn’t care what happened to her daughter.
 

Nothing made a difference to her.
 

“Yeah, so I’m going to get the kids back.”
 

“What?”
Mama snarled, dropping the fork with a clatter.
 

“I want custody of my children.”

Becci and Jared were the only reason she’d clung to sanity in prison, in the club, in life. She had to save them from their father.
 

“You’ll never get it. I hope you realize that.”
 

Her mother had always taken Brian’s side over hers. If Mama had a choice, Brian would have been her son, not her son-in-law and Emily…
well, she’d be just another woman on the street.
 

“I’m going to find a way. I won’t let them stay with him anymore. He’s a madman.”
The years of mental abuse had taken their toll on her, but she was stronger now.
 

“Oh grow up, Emily,”
Mama answered, picking up both her knife and fork this time, “he’s a congressman. There’s not a court in this country who’d grant you custody over him.”
 

Emily swallowed hard. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was a fruitless escapade. She was an ex-con and he was the grand congressman, poised to take over the country if he got a chance.
 

Brian’s dreams of running for president were an ever-present nightmare for her. The thought of him in a position of power made her stomach turn.
 

“Anyway, I’m going to try.”
 

“You’re going to fail.”
 

“How can you say that?”
The skin of sadness and guilt –
it was always there when she visited her mother –
lifted for a second, and the bubbling anger shone through from underneath.
 

Mama laughed and finished chewing up a bit of broccoli. “Because it’s the truth.”
 

Emily had no one else to turn to, no other support, but this wasn’t helping. There was no point to talking to her mother.