Scarred (Book 1, #1) (3 page)

Chloe laughed, but it was to keep from retching. “It was a tiny little thing if I recall.”

Lexi laughed too and said, “Yeah, as long as he held it in his hand, it disappeared. But my point is that Roxi had him shown the door. She took his membership away and I found out later on that his family owns the company that designs Yachts for most of the dickheads who come in that place. Roxi didn’t care. Rules are rules and she’ll make sure you’re protected. At least you won’t have to dance for any of the other creeps this week and you’ll have some mighty nice eye candy while you’re dancing for him. I’ll bet his dick wouldn’t disappear in his hand.”

Chloe picked up one of the small pillows off of her bed and threw it at her, “Get out, perv!”

She stood up and smiled, “I repeat, don’t over-think it, Chloe. You’ve got an extra thousand bucks that you didn’t have before you went in to work tonight. The guy’s not a cheap skate either and the money will come in handy. Look at it like a blessing in disguise.”

Chloe didn’t do well with blessings. She was much better at finding the devil in the details. “I’ll try,” Chloe told her.

After Lexi left her room she reached in her dresser drawer and pulled out the box where she kept her journal and her pen. She opened the book to the entry she had made earlier before she left for work.

The first day of the rest of my life.

June 1, 2011

I got a thousand dollar tip tonight for doing nothing more than a pole dance. That was unusual itself, but then the same guy dropped twenty grand for me to be his “private dancer” for a week. Sometimes I get so annoyed with these men and the anger I feel at having changed my entire life because of one of them, boils to the surface. Other times, like now, I have to wonder just how lonely does a man have to be to spend that kind of money on simple companionship...and companionship of the most superficial nature to boot.

It’s strange, because if you look at this man and his life on paper you would say he was the least likely candidate in the state for loneliness. I guess it’s another lesson for me on the virtues of not judging people based solely on first impressions...everyone has layers, like an onion. Some look fresh on the outside and the deeper you peel them back, the more rotten the layers become. I know the opposite is true as well, but that’s the side I have a harder time seeing, not because of the physical scars, but because of the psychological ones. Those are the ones that urge me to keep everyone at a distance...especially now. When Jesse gets out of prison I’ll have to know for certain that there is nothing left of the old me to lead him in my direction.

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C
hloe woke up the next morning with a new resolve. She didn’t really want to know anything more about Derek Stark. She knew that if she’d ever seen him before...if she’d ever so much as glanced into those ice blue eyes, she wouldn’t have forgotten him, she couldn’t have. It’s been two years since she molded herself into someone new...there is no way he knows who she is. She knew she was just being paranoid.

He’s just some lonely freak like the rest of them, only he happens to be drop-dead gorgeous. Like Lexi said, it’s really a blessing not to have some fat, bald creep rubbing his dick through his trousers while she danced. She would keep that in the front of her mind and try to let the rest of it go.

She got up and took a quick shower. Lexi wasn’t up yet and she doubted she would be for a while. They worked odd hours, so Lexi slept odd hours. Chloe did her best to get up at the same time every day. She had too much on her plate to sleep half the day away. Today was her advanced self-defence class with Maximus and he was the best.

When she first moved to Rhode Island she was working in a diner. One of the girls she met there had told her about a self-defence work-shop she was going to.   Chloe went with her and as it turned out, that one weekend had gone a long way towards instilling some of the confidence back in her that Jesse had beaten out of her. So she had decided to take the entire beginner’s course. It concentrated on teaching women how to use their personal strengths against their assailant’s physical and mental weaknesses. They also had them do a lot of exercises designed to alleviate the daily fear from their lives. The fear of being attacked in your home or on the street. The fear of date-rape and domestic violence...

Chloe loved it and she was good at it. At the end of the course they had what was called an “Adrenaline Stress Training” where an assailant...properly padded so that he was safe, would attack them in various ways. They got to apply the information they’d learned using both their physical skills and their mental prowess.  

She aced that first one, kicking a six foot two one hundred and seventy pound man’s ass to the mat. She was instantly hooked.

She dressed in her compression pants and a tank-top. The weather this time of year in Rhode Island was gorgeous. She slipped on her tennis shoes and grabbed her I-Pod and her water and headed out. The class was about six blocks from the beach-side condo she and Lexi rented from Roxi, so instead of driving she got in her morning run and killed two birds with one stone.

Chloe ran along the beach as far as she could. She loved the ocean. It cleared her head and always seemed to give her a fresh perspective on things. One positive thing the dancing had done for her other than the money was that it had made her immune to the stares she attracted from men. She almost didn’t notice it any longer. As a matter of fact, other than paying attention to the traffic so she didn’t get mowed down by a car, she rarely noticed much of anything when she ran. That’s why she was so surprised when she stopped at the crossing two blocks from the DoJo where she did her classes and saw the billboard on the far side of the street.

A huge picture of Derek Stark’s smiling; sexy face was staring down at her. It said, “Looking to start a new life? Let us help.” There was a contact number. She couldn’t help but wonder how many women called and went “pretend” house-hunting just to get a glimpse of the man in person.

She realized that the light had changed twice before she was able to tear her own eyes away. Not cool, Chloe. Detached, remember? Don’t let this man’s good looks fool you. He’s hanging out in a very confidential strip club. Even if she was interested in finding a man...which she most definitely is not, that would be enough to nix it right there.

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T
he next day would be Chloe’s first day “on” as Derek Stark’s private dancer. She and Lexi got to the club a half hour before he was supposed to make his appearance. Lexi went behind the bar and began her shift and Chloe went into the back, hoping that the other girls were already changed and onstage so that she could have some privacy.

“Hi Chloe,” Gretchen, a pert and bouncy red-head greeted her as soon as she walked into the dressing room.

She wasn’t going to get lucky today.

“Hi Gretchen. How are you?”

“Oh you know same old.” She was trying to stuff her gigantic boobs into a bra that looked two sizes too small as she was talking to Chloe. Her puffy brown nipples protruded over the top and every time she tried to clasp it in the front, it would pop right back open.

“Damn this thing!”

Chloe tried to slip into her corner before Gretchen decided to ask her for help, but she was too late. “Chloe honey, help! Please.”

With a sigh Chloe hoped she didn’t really notice she went over to where the other girl was standing in front of the mirror. She knew she would only have the torture device on for a matter of minutes once she was onstage, but Chloe had her doubts as to whether or not she’d even ever agree to wear it in the first place. It was made of black lace and the area where her nipples were supposed to sit was cut out in a circle and studded with rhinestones. It was the most ridiculous piece of lingerie she’d ever seen.

“What do you want me to do?” Chloe asked her.

“I’ll pull on the elastic from the sides and you see if you can clasp it for me.” She had her head bent forward towards her and her long, curly red hair tickled Chloe’s face as she struggled to snap the bra with her fingers while pressing down on her giant wiggly boobs with the sides of her palms. If anyone got a video of this, it would be either a pervert or a lesbian’s wet dream. Since Chloe was neither, the whole thing made her ridiculously uncomfortable.

“There you go, Chloe! You got it girl, thanks!”

“No problem,” she lied. She proceeded to her locker and took out the “Peek a Boo” pole fit top and “Sneaky V” pole fit shorts she’d bought last week and hadn’t worn yet. She had a little black-netted kami that would drape over the top so that her sides were not bare. It was black and slinky and it fit like a tailored glove across her boobs and butt...but nothing had to be stuffed into it, thank God. She glanced over her shoulder. Gretchen was gone. Chloe could hear the set that was playing when she came in still playing outside. That meant she had about ten minutes to change before those girls came off stage and filed in to the dressing room.

She slipped off her blouse and then the kami she had underneath. She left her bra on and slipped off her pants next. She was always nervous when she changed in the dressing room. There were no private dressing areas so it was pure luck that not many people had caught her naked so far. The scars across her back were plentiful and could have even passed for those of someone who had been publicly flogged.

She’d been flogged all right, more times than she cared to remember. By the only two men in her life that was supposed to protect her. Jesse was always really good at keeping the scars and bruises where no one would see them underneath her clothes. He used to like telling her that if she was ever stupid enough to try and cheat on him, any other man would be sickened by the sight of her without her clothes on. That didn’t matter now. She couldn’t even imagine the day when that would happen again.

The scar that ran itself from the top of her breast down her side, along her ribcage was the last one he’d given her. It was the last one any man would ever give her. It was the one that she let her fingers play across sometimes to remind herself how far she’d come since that night. She was lost in her thoughts and slipping into her shorts when she suddenly heard voices. She tried grasping for her blouse before they got close enough to see her, but it was too late. Two of the girls had walked into the dressing room and stopped dead in their tracks.

“Oh my God, Chloe! What the fuck happened to your back?” Delilah, who had just turned old enough to dance in the club and still had some of her baby fat, wanted to know.

“Jeez girl, if your man did that, you need to get his ass charged.” That was Margo, an African-American beauty who refused to tell anyone how old she was and nobody could tell. She looked about twenty-seven, but she’d been dancing already for ten years.

Chloe took a deep breath and turned to face them, buttoning the shirt she said, “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Margo gave her a “fuck-you” then look, but Delilah wasn’t mature enough to realize when to keep her mouth shut just yet. “I wondered why you didn’t strip. I thought it was a moral thing or something. Chloe, if someone is hurting you, we should tell Roxi. She can help you. She kicked my tweaker ex-boyfriend out of the parking lot last week without even taking the bouncers out with her.”

Chloe knew that this kid had no idea the kind of memories that even thinking about the scars brought up, much less talking about them. That didn’t serve to make her any less pissed off however as she said, “Listen, Delilah. I asked you once to mind your own fucking business, okay? I’m not going to ask nicely again.”

Margo looked over at her and said, “Why are you being such a bitch? The girl was trying to be nice.”

“What’s going on?” Roxi walked in to the room and as she did, she looked her up and down. “Chloe, aren’t you on in five minutes?”

“Yeah, I was trying to get ready...”

“Then she had to stop so that she could act like a bitch,” Margo said.

“Roxi, Chloe has terrible scars on her back like someone’s been cutting her,” Delilah the rat said.

Chloe glared at her as Roxi said, “You two go get something to drink and mind your own damn business.”

When they had scurried out Roxi looked at Chloe and said, “One of these days, you’ll have to talk about it to someone. When you’re ready, you know where to find me. Now get your ass dressed and get out there. I just saw Derek Stark walk in.”

“Okay, thanks.” She left and Chloe hurriedly finished dressing. She glanced in the mirror long enough to fluff her long brown hair and reapply her lipstick. She slipped on her “hooker-heels” on her way out the door.

As she passed Lexi at the bar her friend winked at her. Chloe heard Lexi’s words reverberate in her head, “Don’t over-think it.” She made her way past Mike and said, “Track 5 again, Mike.” He grinned and gave her a finger to finger touch. She saw Jake near the outside of the curtain as she slipped inside.

Derek Stark was sitting in his chair. Tonight he wore a black button-down shirt that was undone slightly at the neck. Chloe could see just the top of what looked like a toned and tanned chest. His jeans were black and he had on black brushed leather boots. The whole look was way too appealing for her. She wished he wore one of those three piece business suits with the shiny shoes. Those things at least left a lot to the imagination. 

The music came on and as she draped her long leg around the pole she chanted in her head like a mantra, “Don’t make eye contact...don’t make eye contact...” She swung around with her head tipped back and before she knew it those ice blue eyes were locked onto hers. His full lips looked like they were playing with a smile but they hadn’t given it the okay just yet. Dancing was usually easy for her, like second nature now...but those eyes completely distracted her and she had to actually count the beats out in her head to find her place.

Derek sat there this time until the music stopped. He still wasn’t touching himself which compared to the other guys she did private dances for, made him a saint. He was still staring at her though and that gaze was just so unnerving, almost haunting. She finally cleared her throat and said, “Are you ready for me to begin another song?”