Stirred Up (10 page)

But if he thought she was going to hang
around and process this with him, he was going to be disappointed.
All she wanted was to get home and put this day behind her.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment,
neither of them sure what to do next. God help them if they were
like this the rest of the semester.

“I think I’ll grade the quizzes at home
today, if that’s all right with you,” she said, already putting her
papers into her bag.

“Yeah, of course. Can I walk you out?” he
asked, oddly formal, his demeanor emphasizing how different things
were between them.

Together they headed out of the building and
over to her car. Silently she unlocked her door, looking at him
only as she got in.

“You have a good night, Cheryl,” he said, his
voice low and subdued.

He stood by as she got in and started the
car, looking melancholy and defeated. The sad part was, she almost
felt sorry for him, and for a second, sitting in her stifling
little car, she couldn’t help wishing she was climbing on the back
of his motorcycle and wrapping her arms around him, letting him
whisk her away from herself.

How pathetic was that?

She drove home thinking about all the other
things she could have said to him, the ways she might have hurt him
like he hurt her. When she got to her apartment building she sat in
the car, unable to summon the energy even to get out.

God, she was tired of herself. Tired of
wanting what she couldn’t have, of thinking a man would accept her
for who she was only to be disappointed. She knew what he wanted –
someone untarnished by the kinds of things she’d done to get by.
Well, wouldn’t that have been nice for both of them? She would have
loved the chance to be that person.

The heat finally drove her out of her car and
up to her apartment where she collapsed on the sofa. She could have
called Emily or Beth, but she didn’t have the energy to explain
what had happened. Instead she changed into a tee-shirt and shorts,
pulled a blanket over her lap and graded the quizzes. When she was
done, she put in a DVD of “Singing in the Rain,” her go-to comfort
movie. She paused it after the “Moses Supposes” scene to heat a
bowl of soup, then resumed watching. By the time it was over she
felt like herself again. A tired, disappointed version of herself,
but still.

Somehow, during the course of the movie, her
brain must have worked out how to deal with the latest crisis,
because once she’d shut off the DVD player and carried her bowl to
the sink, she understood what to do.

Becoming a teacher was the most important
thing to her now. Yes, she was hurt and angry about how Jason had
reacted, but there was no undoing what they’d both said. He’d
apologized, and it was time to move on. Tomorrow she’d go to school
and do what needed to be done. That meant being on good terms with
Jason, no grudges allowed. If she felt anger or regret that he’d
let her down, she’d deal with it after hours.

Her mind finally calm, she got into bed and
turned out the light. She was dead asleep before any new doubts had
time to surface.

When she got to the classroom the next
morning she saw she’d arrived even before Jason had, which was a
first. Fine, so maybe she was a bit over-eager, hoping to prove
that even a stripper could be on top of her game.

Sighing, she sat down at one of the desks in
the front row and started looking through their plans for the day.
Before long she recognized Jason’s familiar tread, a sort of
unhurried stride that still managed to cover a lot of ground in a
short time. Her heart rate spiked and she took several deep
breaths, determined to keep to her resolve.

“Oh, Cheryl. You’re here early,” he said,
stopping inside the door.

“I got an early start, so I’m looking over my
notes for fifth period today. Hopefully I can enthrall them all
with my lesson on grammar.”

“You’ll do fine,” he said, looking relieved
that she was talking to him like a normal person. He came the rest
of the way into the room and set down his bag. “Let me know if you
need help with anything, though.”

“Will do,” she said, hoping she sounded
easygoing.

“I’m heading down the hall for a coffee. Can
I get you some?” he asked.

“Um, no. I’m fine, thanks,” she said,
gesturing toward the travel mug that sat in plain view on her
desk.

“Oh, right,” he said. “I’ll be back in a
bit.”

As soon as he was gone her head dropped to
the desk. Acting normal was exhausting.

For the first few periods they both acted
like polite aliens had taken over their bodies. By the end of the
day they’d loosened up, but it was nowhere near the friendly,
familiar rapport they’d had, and it was just about killing her
trying to act like everything was fine.

It was obvious he was sorry, but that wasn’t
enough. She’d actually started to believe he was different, and
that something could happen between them. It would have been better
if she’d never gotten her hopes up.

Someday, if she were lucky, she’d have a real
relationship with someone who respected her. Whoever that guy was,
he was never going to know she’d been a stripper. Even the nicest
guy couldn’t help thinking less of her for it, and she wasn’t going
to take that chance again.

How much disappointment could a person take
before they became bitter? Was she going to end up with that hard
look so many of the strippers had? What if the damage was already
done?

As soon as the thought entered her head she
ran to the bathroom and examined her face in the mirror. But the
face that looked back at her just looked sad.

The rest of the week passed without incident.
Cheryl stuck around after school let out and they worked together
like they had before, planning classes and grading. They were both
being careful with each other, but at least they’d established that
they could continue working together.

Still, she was more reluctant than usual
about stripping that Friday night. It had been a long week, but it
was more than that. Jason’s angry words still spooled through her
head, louder than her own voice confronting him back.

Then a surge of determination coursed through
her. Why should she feel bad about making a living, just because
Jason couldn’t handle it? There was no reason to let what he
thought change how she lived her life. She’d worked too long and
hard to let one guy’s opinion turn her world upside down.

Stomping into her bedroom, muttering to
herself, she threw together the underwear, garters, shoes and
costumes she’d be wearing that night and stuffed it all in a big
duffel bag. Then she took a shower so long the hot water ran out,
and by the time she got out she felt more like herself.

Of course, the way she felt sometimes left a
lot to be desired.

Like most Fridays it was a bit quiet at
first, but things picked up within a couple of hours. Normally, she
would have been so run off her feet, she wouldn’t have had time to
worry about much of anything, but even as she flirted and joked
with the customers, she found herself imagining what it must have
been like for Jason to see her come out on stage without any
warning, then start flirting with his friends.

She could see how it would have been
shocking, and she didn’t even blame him for that part. It was the
judgment and disdain that hurt. As sincere as his apology had
seemed afterwards, it didn’t take away the bad taste the whole
incident had left.

Maybe they’d eventually work their way back
to a more comfortable place, but that was still a hard thing to
accept when they’d been on their way to so much more.

“Cherry? Yoo hoo, you in there girl?”

Cheryl snapped back to the present and gave
Jim, one of the semi-regulars, an automatic smile. It seemed to do
the trick though, since he told her how great she’d looked on stage
before sliding a folded up twenty into her garter. Or, as Jason
might have seen it, he leered and groped her.

She really needed to get him out of her
head.

Cheryl planted a kiss on Jim’s cheek to make
up for her distraction and then headed back to the dressing room.
Five more sets to go.

“You all right, hon?” Julie asked, coming
into the dressing room from her rounds on the floor.

A curvaceous blond with augmented breasts,
she was a big favorite with the crowds.

Cheryl looked up from her spot on the saggy
orange armchair, where she was counting her tips. “I’m fine. Why,
do I look like something’s wrong?” she asked, hating that she was
so transparent.

“You just seem a little down or something.
Not as chatty as usual,” Julie commented, turning to the mirror to
examine her eye make-up. “But don’t worry, it’s not obvious. I’ve
just known you a long time.”

This was true. Julie had been the one to show
her the ropes when she’d first started at the club. She was past
thirty, or so Cheryl guessed from some of the things she’d said,
but she looked even older. Yet another reason to ditch this life as
soon as she could.

“It’s nothing,” Cheryl said, giving her a
tired smile. “I’m just kind of bummed out. Every time I meet a nice
guy, he ends up disappointing me.” She thought for a second. “Or
maybe I’m the one disappointing them,” she said, feeling more
defeated than ever at the thought.

“You’ve got a lot going for you, sweetie,
more than most of us here. You just need to leave this place and
never look back.”

“That sick of me, huh?” Cheryl joked, trying
to ignore the tightness in her throat.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Julie said,
staring her down until Cheryl had to look away.

***

Jason looked over to where Cheryl sat
frowning in concentration at her notes. She hadn’t worn her usual
ponytail today, and her hair kept falling forward into her eyes
before she tucked it back behind her ear.

She was so serious all the time now. That was
his fault, but he didn’t know what to do about it. They’d managed
to get back on a more appropriate footing, professional and
friendly, but the way they’d been acting, you’d think neither one
of them had a sense of humor. It was depressing.

“You heading to the lounge?” he asked, trying
to sound merely curious rather than desperate.

She hadn’t joined him in the teachers’ lounge
for lunch since before their fight. Instead she ate in the
classroom, prepping for the lessons she was teaching. He couldn’t
fault her for it, he just missed how they used to hang and talk
about things outside of work, missed knowing what she was
thinking.

“I don’t think so. I was going to read
through –”

“There’ll be birthday cake for Patty,” he cut
in. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be chocolate.”

Still she hesitated, and he had to stop
himself from making another pitch. Then she nodded, allowing a
small smile to appear.

“Sure. I could use some cake,” she said.

“Great,” he said, a little more
enthusiastically than the situation called for. “Let’s get up there
before it’s all gone.”

The lounge was full, with lots of chatter as
people stood around eating cake. Jason cut a piece and handed one
to Cheryl. She thanked him, but he couldn’t help thinking that her
manner was more subdued than it would have been before. Before her
energy had been palpable, her passion for teaching and her
eagerness to learn unmistakable. Now she was cautious, giving
nothing away. Shooting him a quick smile that didn’t reach her
eyes, she took her plate over to one of the tables.

Jason grabbed his soda from the fridge and
started to head for her table, only to find that every seat was
taken by other men more than happy to get close to her.

His loss, but at least she was socializing
again. He watched as she threw her head back and laughed at
something Jim said. The low, husky sound went straight through him,
but how did he know it was sincere? She knew how to fake it to make
men feel good.

As soon as the thought entered his head, he
felt sick. She’d never been anything but authentic with him, and he
knew it. Why couldn’t he get over this?

He sat at another table and pretended to
listen to people talking about the upcoming contract negotiations.
But really he was watching Cheryl and trying to overhear what she
was talking about. That was what he’d come to, and knowing it was
desperate and sad didn’t stop him.

Cheryl stood in front of the classroom,
looking around at the raised hands. The sophomore class was reading
The Outsiders
and they were pretty into it, as she’d
hoped. But not Sara Borowski. The first month of school she’d been
alert and interested in the material, even the stuff the other kids
didn’t like. Lately she seemed disinterested, but worse than that,
she was looking tired and disheveled, not put together as she
normally was. She didn’t seem to talk to her friends either, which
was even more alarming.

At the beginning of the semester Sara had
come up to her after class to talk about the first essay assignment
Cheryl had given, and she’d been excited, her eyes sparkling with
her idea for the paper.

Where had that girl gone?

The students filed out after class but Sara
was slowly packing up her things, as if she were moving through
water. As if she didn’t care where she went next.

“Hey, Sara. Everything all right?” Cheryl
asked, walking over to the girl’s desk.

Sara looked up, alarm written all over her
face.

“What do you mean? Everything’s fine,” she
said, her face going blank and unreadable.

“You just seem down lately, that’s all.”

Sara’s gaze darted to Jason, who was back at
his desk, pretending not to notice them.

“I’m just a little tired,” she said, sounding
defensive.

“If you ever want to talk, just let me know,
okay?”