The Space In Between (13 page)

THE SUN WAS shining brightly, but
the winter breeze made coats necessary. I sat across from Iris outside the
coffee shop, wishing I could be anywhere but there. We were wearing sunglasses,
smiling at each other as the paparazzi stood back and took our photos. The trip
to South Carolina had come to an end, and instead of sitting across from
Andrea, I was stuck with my wife.

Iris was about six months pregnant, sporting heels that
looked to be cutting off all blood flow to her feet. How could she be so damn
stupid?

Through a grin I whispered, “You’re a bitch.” And she
grinned and took my hand into hers.

“When are you coming home?” she softly asked. I wanted to
pull my hand away and walk off, never to see her again, but what she had on me
was big.

“Why were you talking about revealing information about Ken?”
Turning to my father’s past to get back to me was as low as one could get. I
asked her what I had done that was so dirty that she would turn to these crazy
measures.

“You left me.” Her tone was so sincere and filled with
sorrow that I almost felt sorry for the woman sitting in front of me.
Almost.
She saw the paparazzi and knew we wouldn’t be able to hold the real
conversation we needed to have, so she offered walking to our apartment—her
apartment—so we could figure out where to go from here.

As we walked, Iris made sure to have me wrap my arms around
her waist. Andrea was floating through my mind. I secretly wished she were the
one my arms were wrapped around. I wished she were the one taking me home.

Right as we stepped into the apartment, I released my hold
on her and started to holler. “What the hell are you trying to do to me,
Iris?!”

“You left me, Cooper. You walked away and didn’t look back.
What was I suppose to do? You wouldn’t talk to me.” She cried as she took off
her high heels and her jacket. “Tom doesn’t want anything to do with the child.
He’s expecting his own with his wife…”

Tom Reed.
The man who got my wife pregnant was ready
to deny his own child to keep a lie going on for his wife. What a piece of
shit. But there was one main issue I had to know. “What does that have to do
with me?”

I wasn’t the one who cheated. I wasn’t the one who got
knocked up by Tom. I wasn’t the one who took our vows and threw them into a
closet at the rehearsal dinner of our last episode of
The Davidson’s Weddings
.

Iris walked over to me and placed her hands in mine. She led
my hands to her stomach, making me raise an eyebrow. “We can raise her
together.”

Her.
It was a girl. I would be lying if I said for a
split moment I didn’t consider it. That poor baby girl had walked into a crazy
life, and it wasn’t her fault. She deserved a dad. Not a father who would deny
her existence for the rest of his life. She deserved a mom. Not a mother who
wanted to lie about who her real father was. She deserved to have someone treat
her like a princess. She deserved to
be
a princess. She deserved a dad.

But that wasn’t me.

“You’ve lost your mind.” I pushed her hands away from me and
shook my head in disappointment. She was desperate. I could see it in her face.

“I’ll give you a month. If you don’t come back to me, I will
expose everything. Your stay in the mental hospital. You breaking glass frames
in your house. You leaving your pregnant wife. You leaving your mom to film a
reality show…”

“Go to hell!” I hissed. She’d crossed the line. She had no
right to bring my mom into this topic.

“I’m already there, Cooper!” she cried into the air.

“You cheated on me, Iris!
You
cheated. Not me!” What
was wrong with this creature I used to love? I didn’t know the person standing
before me, and she was fucking making me sick.

Iris disappeared into the kitchen and returned with an
envelope. She handed it to me. “Well, that’s not what these photos say.” She
crossed her arms and rested them on her growing belly, “Those are just copies.
I have more.”

I opened the envelope and ran my hand over my mouth,
sighing.
Shit.
I scanned the pictures and looked back to Iris. “You had
me followed?”

“Hell yes I had you followed, Cooper. Who is she?”

Unbelievable. I stared at the different photos of Andrea and
me in my hands and I didn’t know what to think. It was all there, from the
moment we first walked out of the strip club, to our café meeting, to the hotel
hallway when I tried to give her taxi money. Even photos of us going to the
airport.

“I can’t believe you right now.”

“Me?! I can’t believe you stooped so low to go for
prostitutes!” she yelled as my hand formed a fist and slammed against the wall;
the veins were popping out of my neck. How dare she.

“Dammit, she’s not a prostitute!”

Iris’s brown eyes softened from her anger. As if she had any
right to be angry with me. She let out a small chuckle and a giggling fit
happened. “Don’t tell me you like her. Holy crap, you like a prostitute.”

The blood was boiling inside me and I knew I had to leave
before I did or said something I would regret. The memories of the last time I
stood in this apartment were floating back to my mind. It was cursed. This
fucking place had to be cursed.

“I’ll give you until New Years. To come back to me. Or I go
to the tabloids,” Iris said before I left.

“Get one thing straight, Iris. I am
never
coming back
to you. Never.” I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what to do. As I walked out,
the paparazzi were still there, hammering me with questions about the rumors
between Iris and me. The child’s gender. The next season of the show. I tried
my best to ignore them as I slid on my sunglasses and walked faster. It was all
too much to ignore when a small girl, around the age of six, was walking with
her mom and was pushed by one of the paparazzi.

“Jesus! Come on! Y’all are knocking over kids!” I hissed as
I helped the girl up.

The man who made her tumble over gave me a devilish grin and
said, “What are you talking about, Cooper? You kicked her over, not us. Have
you been drinking? You should be more careful.”

I wanted to kick his ass. I wanted to wrap my hands around
his neck, shake him, and scream at him to wake the hell up. To get a real
fucking job instead of finding a way to be a stalker and get paid for it. They
were sick creatures who made a living off of destroying lives, just to sell a
photo.

But I couldn’t. I walked off and tried to figure out what
the hell to do about Iris and Andrea.

I WALKED AROUND Central Park with my
camera, taking photos. Shit, it was cold. I pulled my winter coat tighter and
wrapped my scarf around my mouth to shield off the chill. I always felt at ease
when I was doing what I loved. What I really loved. Unlike the garbage reality
shows I had somehow gotten sucked into doing with Iris. She said it would make
us grow closer. I told her couples who did reality shows were doomed to fail.
She disagreed.

I was right.

I was avoiding Andrea. She had texted me a few times earlier
that week calling for Soda Pop, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be seen with
her in the city with the paparazzi covering my every move. It was to protect
her. I should have told her about the photos. But if I did, I would lose her
for sure. I had to work this through my head, figure out the best way to handle
it without pushing her away.

The sunlight had faded for the night. I made my way to a
bench and let out a heavy sigh. I needed more time to figure things out. More
time to find a way to keep Andrea’s name out of the tabloids. The first moment
I’d seen her, I’d promised her I wouldn’t say a word about her stripping, and
now Iris was threatening to tell the whole wide world she was a damn
prostitute.

My phone went off as I read the newest text message that
slapped me with guilt.

Did I do something wrong?

I stared at all of the former text messages before this one,
and they only read ‘soda pop’ between her and me.

She’d never written anything more than that, so to read
those words stung me.
Did she do something wrong?
No. But I couldn’t
tell her. Not yet.

FREAKING A, I missed him. Why hadn’t
he called or texted? It’d been weeks since we last talked. Did he find Order
before me? I felt so stupid for even thinking on the matter. Maybe I’d scared
him off with my breakdown about Derrick. I wouldn’t have been surprised. If I
were him, I would have run too. I wish there was an un-send button for text
messages, but there it was—my needy text sitting in his inbox.

Focus on something else
. I needed a distraction.
Dance.

It had been a few weeks since I had my first dance on the
stage. The first night was terrible, the second night was embarrassing, and the
sixth night was a bit better. Roger must have been pleased with my
performances, because he was getting closer and closer to offering me the
closing number. “We’ll see,” he would say whenever I’d ask. I wanted a shot at
it. Jasmine told me there wasn’t a chance in hell she would give up her spot,
but everyone knew I was better than her. My degree in dance was really paying
off. Thank you, college education.

When I walked onto the stage each night, it was as if I were
in a trance. I tried not to think about it too much because it was all too
depressing. So I danced. I moved my body. And I blocked out my thoughts. In a
way it was somewhat a form of art. And moving my body in a way to create art
was all right, in some twisted way.

The crowd that night seemed extra intense. There were loud
rackets of noise traveling from the club to the dressing rooms. Bachelor
parties, probably. I hated bachelor parties the most because the stupid
bachelors always forgot that they were getting married in the freaking morning.
So much disrespectful grabbing. I stopped applying my makeup when Ladasha
walked over to me and leaped onto my makeup table.

“I’ve been thinking. Maybe I’ll go back to school.”

“You should.”

Ladasha smiled, nodding with confidence. “I should. I always
wanted to be a lawyer. Or a doctor. Or hell, a fuckin' English teacher. If it's
the number two you spell it T-W-O. If it's like, 'I'm gonna have sex with him
and him, too" it's T-O-O. That's my type of English lesson. I might even
be the first black female president. Wouldn't that be political gold? The
president's an ex-stripper.” She grabbed her breasts and smiled widely. “Vote
for Ladasha! I’ll watch a few political movies for tips. It can’t be that hard,
right?”

She was slipping into her dark thoughts. I could tell when
it happened because she always tried so hard to cover her sadness with
goofiness. I knew better. Ladasha laughed lightly as she went back to applying
her makeup, but I saw the slight glimpse of disappointment slip through her
eyes.

“You can do it,” I assured her. Ladasha could do anything if
she didn’t find the need to always run after awhile. I was really hoping she
wasn’t feeling the need to run any time soon.

Just then, two other strippers, Maria and Shelly, walked
into the room and took their seats, doing what they do best—gossiping. Maria
shook her head in disbelief. “Can you believe that?”

“Hell yeah I can believe it,” Shelly chuckled, picking up a
pink, glittery wig to go with her pink, tacky thong.

“What happened?” Ladasha asked.

“Jasmine got caught doing an escort job. Cops picked her
up.” Shelly paused for a brief moment to roll her eyes, and then continued to
speak. “She's so stupid. That's why I don't mess with that shit. I may take my
clothes off, but I ain’t licking, kissing, or sucking nothing.”

Maria nodded in agreement, pulling on her fishnet stockings,
which would be ‘viciously’ ripped off in about twenty minutes. “Now her kid's
in the system. That kid ain't got a chance at a life with a prostitute mom and
a locked-up dad.”

Ladasha quickly turned to defend the poor kid’s life. “You
don’t know what the kid can make of himself. Give him a chance.” Her whole
being shifted and she was to the point where humor wouldn’t fix her emotions.

“The only chance that kid got at a life is selling crack on
the corner to the other messed up brats.”

Ladasha’s eyes couldn’t hide the self-pity pouring out. I
quickly reached across to her and squeezed her hand, delivering a shot of
comfort. Locking eyes with her, I sent her a simple nod, reminding her that she
wasn’t alone. It was the same reminder she gave me when I first showed up to
New York—no words, just a look of understanding. Her halfway smile and
one-shoulder shrug was all I got before she went back to her makeup. Turning to
the other girls, I asked the next question on my mind. “So who’s doing the
closing number tonight?” Jasmine always got the closing number. She and Roger
had a ‘close’ employer/employee relationship. I called her a slut, Ladasha
called her a businesswoman.

Shelly smiled through her mirror in my direction. “You’re
gonna want to add a lil more blush tonight, Wisconsin.”

Suddenly, Roger came barging into the dressing room, causing
some of the girls to squeak in horror and throw things in his direction. He
rolled his eyes, uninterested. “I aint gonna see nothin’ that everyone else in
the club hasn’t already seen.” His eyes shifted to me. I hated when he looked
at me. Roger was a creep, but then again, I was a stripper. I guess I kind of
had it coming. I watched him chewing on the end of his short cigar, puffing
rings of smoke into the air. His hairy face matched his hairy chest that was
semi-hidden under his one-size-too-small black tank top. Too bad it wasn’t
completely hidden. Disgusting.

“Andrea, you got a person in a VIP room requesting you.” He
turned to leave as I shot up from my seat.

“Wait! Is it true I have the finale tonight?”

“If you keep bringing in people who pay hundreds for fifteen
minutes with you in the VIP rooms, you can have anything you damn want.”
Roger’s eyes sparkled like he’d won the lottery as he dragged his feet out of
the room.

“Who the hell is requesting you for a lap dance?” Maria
asked.

Ladasha smiled brightly—a genuine smile. She was coming back
around to her normal, cheerful self. “Cooper Davidson.”

My eyes lit up at the idea of Coop being in the other room.
Just hearing his name from my best friend’s lips made me want to go deliver the
best lap dance ever. “Well, who the hell is Cooper Davidson?” Shelly hissed as
she overdosed on hairspray.

“HE’S MY HUSBAND and you’re sleeping
with him!” she hollered at me. My heart was in my throat and it seemed like all
of the air had been sucked from the filthy VIP room. Sweat started spewing from
my forehead as my knees began to shake. I opened my mouth to speak yet nothing
came out. So she continued to talk. Something about me being a home-wrecking,
smutty, vomit-worthy slut.

My eyes shifted to her stomach. Oh god…Cooper didn’t tell me
she was pregnant.

Wait.

Cooper didn’t tell me anything about Iris. “I don’t know
what to say.”

She laughed in a mocking tone. “Don’t say a word. Just stay
the hell away from my husband.” I turned to leave and she glided herself in
front of the door, blocking me in. “Seriously. I can ruin your pathetic life in
an instant. You understand me? In. An. Instant. I can take whatever you have
and destroy it. Don’t test me.”

“Go to hell!” I yelled. I hated her. I didn’t have much
knowledge of who she was, but what I’d discovered in the last five minutes was
that she seriously lacked people skills. And I also hated that she was so damn
gorgeous. More beautiful than anyone I’d ever seen. Her face was flawless, her
stance was ballerina worthy. For a moment I paused to think why Cooper would
come to me when he had her waiting for him at home.

Oh my god. I was a slut. A home-wrecking, smutty,
vomit-worthy slut.

“Is there a problem?” Frank opened the door when he heard me
holler, and his eyes narrowed in on me, checking if I was all right.

“Yes, there actually is a problem.” Iris stood up tall in
her high heels and held her Michael Kors purse close to her chest. “I want her
fired.”

My eyes bugged out as I looked at the crazy psycho. I
searched for a glimpse of sarcasm, but it wasn’t there. Whatever. There was no
way I would be fired because of this woman. Roger just told me I was a money
maker. Dollar bills flashed in his eyes back in the dressing room. It wouldn’t
be good business to get rid of me. Before I knew it, I was having a yelling contest
with Iris as Frank tried to control the noise. But he should’ve known, once
women attack each other, it’s pretty much useless to do anything about it.

“What the hell is going on?!” Roger screamed, storming into
the heated fight, panting. He was out of breath from the short jog over to the
VIP room.

 Iris crossed her arms and looked to him. “Are you the owner
of this place?” she asked.

He was. She continued. “I want her fired.” She pointed at me
as Ladasha walked up behind Roger to see what all the commotion was about.

Roger arched an eyebrow at Iris as if she were crazy.
“There’s no way in hell I’m firing my best employee. I’m sorry you two had a
dilemma, but let me get you another girl…” He put on his charm to try to get
Iris to calm down. I knew Roger wouldn’t get rid of me. He may have been an
asshole, but he wasn’t a heartless asshole.

“I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars,” Iris insisted.

Oh no. This time Roger raised both eyebrows. Ladasha’s mouth
dropped as she jumped into the conversation. “Roger I swear if you get rid of
Andrea, I will walk out with her.” He lowered the brows. He couldn’t lose us
both. I could have kissed Ladasha for standing up for me the way she did.

“Twenty-five thousand to fire both,” Iris sang.

She must have sung the right tune because the next thing I
knew, Ladasha and I were walking home, jobless, boxes filled with bras and
costumes, with no form of income to support us.

“So, we have a few choices for tonight,” Ladasha said as we
walked in the snow to our apartment. “We can track down Cooper and kick his
ass, we can go cry in a corner and realize we won’t have a place to live soon,
or…we can watch
Pretty Woman
and get wasted.”

I smirked at Ladasha. Her whole life was about taking it one
step at a time, never knowing where she would be the next day. I somewhat
envied that. So the idea of finding a new place to live didn’t come off as a
life or death situation to her. At least she didn’t show it as one. I linked my
arm with hers, we walked in our ridiculous heels and rested my head on her
shoulder.

Although the idea of kicking Cooper’s ass did sound
promising, I secretly knew if I were to see him again, a part of me would want
to melt into his arms. And by this point, crying seemed to be useless. I’d
cried so much these past few months that I wasn’t certain I even knew what the
point of it was anymore.

So that made the choice quite easy. We were getting wasted
and watching the hell out of
Pretty Woman
.