Stirred Up (9 page)

He was gone.

But the relief lasted only a second. Because
whether she was allowed to transfer classes or not, she already
knew how he felt about seeing her here. He wasn’t merely surprised
or taken aback. He’d looked like a man who’d found his woman in bed
with someone else. Whatever had been growing between them was
over.

***

That Monday she was sitting across from
Robin, the director of student placements.

“So, what’s up? Everything all right with
your field hours?” Robin asked, smiling at Cheryl before glancing
back at her computer.

Cheryl’s impromptu visit had obviously
interrupted something.

“Yes, everything’s fine. Only I did wonder if
anyone ever changes classes in the middle of a semester. If, you
know, anything came up and someone wanted to switch.”

Now Robin did focus her attention on her. “Is
there a problem with your placement? We’ve had only rave reports
about working with Mr. Shaw.”

“He’s great. It’s nothing like that. Not an
actual problem or anything. I was just starting to wonder if maybe
I should visit another classroom or two to see how other teachers
work.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. As you know
we take great pains to structure this program so that each student
gets a dedicated mentor. Many teachers don’t want to work with a
student teacher, or would even be good at it. Not to mention that
all of this is meticulously worked out months before the semester
actually starts.”

“Of course,” Cheryl said, mortified to have
come in. What had she been thinking?

“That said, if there was some problem, I
would want you to tell me about it.”

Cheryl forced a laugh. “There’s no problem.
I’m just getting ahead of myself. I’m so anxious to be prepared for
teaching on my own next semester that I thought I could try
something different. I wasn’t thinking.”

Robin was looking at her doubtfully, and
Cheryl decided she needed to get out now, before she got herself in
deeper.

After thanking Robin she left her office,
convinced she’d just made things worse. Now Robin would be
wondering what was going on with her, rather than assuming all was
well.

All day in class she was distracted and
miserable, unable to think about anything but facing Jason the next
day. Should she email him? Or maybe call? He’d given her his cell
phone number weeks ago.

But what could she say? Hi Jason, now you
know I’m a stripper. What do you think about that? Will you be able
to look at me without seeing me naked and riding a pole?

Calling in sick, as tempting as it was, would
only postpone the inevitable and drag her miserable doubts out
longer. So she got up Tuesday morning, after a nearly sleepless
night, put on another boring skirt and blouse, pulled her hair back
into her customary ponytail, and headed to the school.

She used the short drive to give herself a
pep talk. She was strong and could handle anything. She’d survived
her mother’s boyfriend and living on her own since she was
eighteen, and she would get through this, too. Difficult things
often seemed impossible, but she’d survive this day. She’d been
through worse.

The pep talked worked until she was standing
outside the classroom. The way she was breathing, it was actually
possible she’d pass out. She was so lightheaded and terrified,
everything had begun to seem surreal. But eventually she moved
forward, because really that was the only choice.

Jason was sitting at his desk like every
other morning, but the moment he looked up she realized how much
had changed. Instead of the instantaneous smile he usually gave
her, he was wary and stiff. A flush spread across his cheekbones
and he looked down at his desk and shuffled his papers.

“Cheryl, hi.”

Part of her had hoped that she’d walk in the
door and he’d act like nothing had happened. In her little fantasy
they plugged through the day in silent agreement that there was no
need to discuss Saturday night. But there was no way that would
happen. There was a big, naked elephant in the room and it wasn’t
going anywhere. Just a few minutes ago she’d have sawed off her own
arm to avoid talking about it, but now all she wanted was to get it
out of the way so they’d have a chance at being normal again.

Walking all the way into the room, she pulled
a chair from the side of the room and sat down heavily.

“Now you know my big secret,” she said,
looking down at her hands. “I was pretty freaked out the other
night, and I’m guessing you were, too.”

“Let’s just forget it, okay? We don’t need to
talk about it.”

Her breath caught at the unexpected hurt.
This tense bitterness was even worse than the questions she’d been
expecting.

“I would love to pretend nothing happened,
but it’s obviously bothering you.”

“It’s not bothering me. What you do on your
own time is your business.”

“You’re right, it is. But we’re also friends,
and I think we should clear the air.”

She waited, but he still said nothing.

“You don’t have any questions about why I do
it?” she asked, pushing him, needing him to say something.

“I assume you have your reasons,” he said,
staring steadfastly at his grade book, refusing to look at her.

“So that’s it? You’ll just avoid looking at
me from now on?” She was getting angry now, frustrated by the wall
he’d thrown up. “Are you going to tell anyone?” she asked, trying
not to let her fear show.

Now he did look at her.

“Jesus, Cheryl. What kind of asshole do you
think I am?”

“How am I supposed to know what you’ll do,
when you’re acting like a completely different person?” she said,
her voice tight with anger and confusion.

“Maybe that’s because you’re not the person I
thought you were.”

Her head snapped back, as if he’d actually
slapped her, and for several seconds she couldn’t breathe. Standing
up, she backed a few steps away, her legs trembling so that she
thought they might give way.

He stood up so suddenly, his chair tipped
backward and hit the ground. “Why do you do it?” he demanded. “How
can you stand to have men groping you like that?”

“Why does anyone do it?” she asked, crossing
her arms defensively. “I need the money. At one time I needed money
pretty desperately.” She shrugged. “Now I earn enough to live on
and put myself through college.”

Her whole body was shaking. This was just
what she’d feared. Standing in front of him, vulnerable and having
to defend decisions she’d made out of necessity. That and the
judgment, the disdain she felt coming off him in waves.

“There must be other jobs. Something that
wouldn’t be so…”

“What? Skanky? Funny how that didn’t stop you
from going,” she shot back.

“When I go, I’m not the one on display for
the world to see. I just don’t understand how you can stand to do
something so sleazy.”

“You self-righteous jerk. You act so
understanding, but really you’re no different from any other guy.
You have no idea what it’s like to work there. It’s not like I get
mauled every night. The bouncers take care of men who get out of
line. I’m safer at the club than I was in my own house.”

Silence fell as Jason stared at her in shock.
And no wonder. Shit. Shit shit shit. Why had she said that? It was
none of his business, and now he’d think she was even more screwed
up than she really was.

She couldn’t even bear to look at him, or
know he was looking at her. Without another word she walked out
into the hall and down to the faculty bathroom, where she let
herself cry in a stall until the worst of it was over.

Jason watched Cheryl walk out the door and
wondered if she was ever coming back. What the hell had just
happened? In all the scenarios he’d pictured between the two of
them this morning, that hadn’t been one of them.

He waited, his stomach in knots, to see if
she’d return. Just before the end of homeroom she walked back in,
her face pale, a few strands of hair damp, as if she’d splashed her
face with water.

How had he let things get so out of control?
His chest tightened with guilt, and he kept seeing her pale,
wounded expression when he lashed out at her. He’d acted like an
asshole, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d been sick
and furious ever since Saturday night, and all that pent-up emotion
had erupted without warning.

He just couldn’t get his head around what
he’d discovered. His intern was a stripper for God’s sake. He
couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d looked like on stage, how
wicked and worldly, how she’d had men eating out of the palm of her
hand. And if she hadn’t seen him, she’d have given one of his
friends a lap dance.

He’d been going to strip clubs off and on
since he was nineteen. Back when they were using fake IDs they’d
stuck to the cheaper clubs, the ones that didn’t much care if they
let in underage kids. The girls there looked tired and worn out,
and sometimes you could see bruises on their arms and legs.

It was at one of those dives that Brad had
paid a skinny dancer, probably no older than they were, for his
first lap dance. Jason had watched the performance with a mixture
of fascination and disgust. It was too personal, and he couldn’t
imagine letting some strange girl work him like that in front of
other people, friends or strangers.

Brad had disappeared later that night, only
to turn up again and tell them all how he’d met up with the dancer
in an alley outside the club and paid her fifty bucks for a blow
job. All the guys had congratulated him, slapping him on the back
and treating him like he’d hit the jackpot, but Jason had been
revolted by the whole thing.

He and his friends had eventually graduated
to the nicer clubs where the dancers didn’t look so banged up, and
none of the girls would have gone into an alley with anyone. But he
couldn’t help thinking of strip clubs as sleazy, and that included
the dancers. He wasn’t real proud of his old habits, and they’d
lost their allure long ago, but even now when he found himself in
the audience again, he didn’t think of the girls as anything more
than a body to lust after.

And Cheryl was one of them.

She wasn’t who he thought she was, and he
felt…
betrayed
. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but he felt like the
woman he’d been falling for was an illusion. Too good to be true, a
figment of his imagination.

But then he looked over at where she sat in
the back of the classroom, her head bowed over her notebook, only
the pale curve of her cheek visible, and his chest tightened. She
was real, real enough to feel pain, and she didn’t deserve what
he’d said to her.

He could only guess what she meant about not
being safe in her own house. Whatever it was had probably led to
her being desperate. She’d had a rough start, and he’d just raked
her over the coals for it. It was so unlike him to lose his temper
like that, much less to let such vitriol come out of him. He hadn’t
known he had that in him, and it wasn’t a pretty thing to
discover.

But there was no time to work things out, not
that morning. As soon as the bell rang, the classroom emptied and
then filled again with their first period class and he had to
concentrate, had to ignore the blank look in her eyes whenever they
accidentally met his.

When the bell for lunch rang he walked over
to where she stood, packing up her papers.

“Look, I’m really sorry about–” he began.

“Can we not do this now?”

“Yeah, okay. Another time,” he said quietly.
“But we should probably talk when you’re ready.”

Still she didn’t look up at him, just nodded
her head. He stood there another second, waiting for her so they
could walk to the teacher’s lounge together, before realizing she
was waiting for him to go. He left the classroom without another
word and headed for the lounge, then decided that was the last
place he wanted to be. Instead he headed out to the parking lot and
got on his bike. He needed to move, get out of his head for a
little while.

Even opening up on the highway didn’t clear
his head. The entire way out and back he played the ugly scene over
and over in his head, watching himself tell her what she did was
sleazy. But she was just doing what she needed to do to get by, so
really, who was sleazier? The strippers, or the guys who paid money
to see them?

The worst part was, even if she did accept
his apology, there was no going back to what they’d been. All the
fun and hope he’d felt having her in his life had drained away,
leaving only disappointment and the odd feeling of losing something
he’d never really had.

***

Cheryl’s entire body tensed when the bell
signaling the end of the school day rang. Jason would want to talk
to her again, and she might as well give in this time.

As if on cue Jason left the doorway, where
he’d been keeping an eye on the hallway, and came over to her. His
hands were shoved into his front pockets and he looked
uncomfortable.

“I just want to say I’m really sorry for how
I acted this morning. I was way out of line and I wish I’d never
said any of those things. I had no right to be so judgmental. If
anyone is sleazy, it’s guys like me who go to the clubs.”

This came out all in one breath, like he’d
rehearsed it and wanted to get it out before she could stop
him.

“Fine. Let’s just forget it happened,” she
said, her eyes darting away from his.

She didn’t want to stay angry at him, it was
exhausting and upsetting, but she hadn’t felt this vulnerable in
years and she hated it. She wasn’t even angry exactly, not anymore.
She felt like she’d been scraped raw, inside and out, with no
buffer between herself and the elements.

“Okay,” he said, looking uncertain, like he
wanted to say more, or wanted her to say more.