Chapter 23

Jenica

"Well sugar, are you ready?" Mamma Louise asks, standing behind me, eyeing my reflection in the vanity mirror.

I don't think I'll ever be ready, but swallowing down my apprehension, I nod and force a smile, pretending this is all I have ever wanted. "Yup, ready."

"You look amazing," she flashes me a winning smile, clearly noting the apprehension in my answer. I'm not sure amazing is the word I would use. Pathetic is one. Out of place is another.

I barely recognize myself. My long dark hair has been ratted into a bouffant with the sides pulled up and secured with an oversized clip on the top of my head, while blue eyeshadow has been brushed over my lids and liquid eyeliner painted on in a dramatic cat eye.

I don't know what's worse—the fact I look like a sixties housewife, or one that's getting ready for bed. Paired with my hair and makeup, I am wearing a pastel yellow babydoll nightie and sky-high platform heels. The nightdress is sheer with side slits, lace patchwork cups, a delicate satin tie in the front, and a matching G-string panty. I've had to wear a bikini for weeks, but there's something about this outfit that makes me uncomfortable.

If I were smart, I'd run out the back door and head straight through the swamp, taking my chances with the gators. It would be better than all those old men out there ogling me. The idea of anyone seeing me like this, let alone touch me, makes me want to vomit.

"What music did you pick?" I push up from the stool and turn around.

"Something I think you'll like," she winks. "Now come," she sticks her hand out, "let's get you on that stage."

We make our way down the hall and the energy from the other dancers is palpable. Tonight's party must be filled with high rollers because each of the girls that have danced so far have made a killing. I don't care what I make. I won't take a cent.

When Mamma and I reach the steps to the stage, Richardson steps into my line of sight. When he sees me his eyes drag down my body slowly. I want to claw his fucking eyes out but all I can do is flip him off.

"No, Ms. Miller," he flashes me a sickening smile, then leans in. "I believe the person who is fucked here is you."

I hate that he's right. I am fucked. After searching tirelessly for something to incriminate him the past few days, I have come up empty-handed. We have reached the point of no return. It's time to pay the piper. Or in this case, give the Devil the blood he's owed.

"Now shake that ass and make me proud," he pulls back. "I'll be watching."

He turns and walks down the hall in the opposite direction, but as he reaches the end, one of the bouncers walks up to him and says something in his ear. He shakes his head and instead of heading out to the club yanks open the black door angrily and disappears.

Knowing he won't be watching me is blessing. A small one, but I'll take it. Turning back around with slightly less dread, I grab the railing and take a deep breath to steady myself, before placing the toe of my platform on the stair. My heart is pounding and my ears ringing so loudly that I don't hear my name being called until it cuts through the clamor and strikes my chest like a bolt of lightning.

"Sparky!"

My stomach plummets and I let go of the railing and spin around, finding Jake stalking toward me. In his jeans, Highland sweatshirt, and Nike high tops, he's a sight for sore eyes. For a second I wonder if this is a dream. If I passed out on my way up the stairs and lying on the floor right now, unconscious. But when he grabs my arm and I feel his touch shoot through me, I realize it's not a dream. This is real. He's here.

I'm not supposed to see him until tomorrow. In Charleston. How on earth is this happening? "What are you doing here?"

"Never mind what I'm doing here," he fires back. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Looking down the hall frantically, I search for Richardson and the bouncers. Seeing no sign of either, I turn back to Jake, ignoring the confused stares of Mamma and the other dancers next to us. "I can explain later. Right now, you have to go."

From the moment I learned Richardson had been watching Jake, I'd worried about his safety. Now that he's here, however, he's in grave danger.

He drags his eyes down my body, taking in the yellow babydoll. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"Please," I close my eyes, chest aching with the way he's looking at me. "You have to—"

"Go?" His eyes search mine. "No way. I'm not leaving without you. Get your stuff."

"I can't," my voice falters. "I have to get up there. If I don't…."

"If this is about money," he leans in.

"It's not about money," I reply softly. "Jake, please. You have to go. If he sees you…"

Keeping Jake safe used to be one of the reasons I was doing this, but right now, his safety is my only concern. It's only a matter of seconds until someone tells Richardson what's going on backstage, and if that happens, if he sees Jake, he's a dead man.

"I will explain everything," I place my hand on his chest and he eases his hold. "I promise. I just need you to leave before someone sees you."

I need him to feel our connection. The one that tells him what I need without having to say a word. He looks down at my hand, studying it for a moment, before looking back up.

"Your best friend offered to help you countless times but you've always said no. And I get it, Sparky, I do. Pride is something I know well. But this? You're better than this."

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop the tears that threaten from falling. "I couldn't ask her for this."

"You could have asked me," his eyes flash. "You are mine to protect. You can ask me for anything and I will always have your back."

A lance of pain slices across my chest as the fear of losing him hits me. Every second I stand here looking like some dime store hooker chips away at everything we were and could have been. But as if hearing my thoughts, under the bulky fabric of his sweatshirt, I feel his forearm flex and see the corner of his eye twitch, ever so slightly, and it hits me…I haven't lost him. He knows something is wrong.

What he just said…it's the promise he made to me that night on the beach when he pulled the gun from my trembling hand. He doesn't know what's going on, but he trusts me and he is not going anywhere. He's ready to help, in whatever way he can.

I don't know what to do. Should I run through the back door and leave, telling Jake everything and risk all our futures? Or should I get up on the stage and keep this charade going a little while longer until I find something on Richardson. Knowing sometimes the only way out is through, I know what I have to do. I have to dance.

Looking up at the stairs, I get an idea. "Mamma," I ask quickly. "Can you lower the lights?"

She looks from me to Jake, nodding. "How dark?"

"Enough so they can see him."

"Honey," she smiles, "he's hard to miss."

I look back at Jake, knowing she's right. He attracts attention no matter where he is. That smile, those eyes…he's one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. It's no wonder all the girls at Highland flock to him. With his beauty, charm, and incredible personality, even I was helpless against Jake Chambers. But win me over he did, and there's no way in hell I am letting him go. Not now. Not ever.

"Can you be totally still?" I grip his forearm tighter.

"Depends," his eyes scan my face. "What are you going to do?"

"Dance," I say matter of fact.

"What?" His eyes grow wide. "It's packed out there."

"I know," I nod. "And if I don't get out on that stage in about one minute, there is going to be hell to pay."

His eyes darting back and forth, fevered breathing tickling my lips. "Sparky, tell me what's going on."

"I will," I nod. "I promise. But right now I need you to sit your ass in that chair and don't move an inch. Pretend to be a mannequin. Here," I reach around him and grab a hat from the shelf next to the stairs where the girls stash their props after coming off the stage. Pulling it over his head, I bring the bill down over his eyes. "Now, take your sweatshirt off and turn it inside out. Hurry."

He takes off the hat, hands it to me, then takes his sweatshirt off, turns it inside out, then pulls it back down over his head. When done, I give him the hat back and he slips it on.

"This okay?" he asks.

The block lettering of his team sweatshirt is no longer visible and with the hat pulled down, I can barely recognize him. I don't know how Jake got in or even how he got past Richardson without him seeing. But he hasn't come back here yet, so it appears we're safe, for now.

"Come," I slide my hand in his and pull him up the stairs.

When we reach the stage he looks to the curtain as I rush over to the other side and grab the chair some of the girls use in their routines and drag it to the middle of the stage. "Sit down," I command, "and do not move an inch. No matter what I do, you must remain absolutely still. Grip the chair seat, your thighs, anything, but me. If you do, you will have the bouncers up here in seconds. Understood?"

I hike a leg over his lap and straddle him. "First," he locks his eyes on mine, no one's gonna tell me that I can't touch you. And second, you're dressed like that and sitting on my lap. How can you expect me to—"

"Please," I lean in, bringing my mouth to his ear. "They will hurt you, and I will die if anything happens to you."

"Sparky," he whispers, brushing my thigh gently with his thumb.

I pull back slowly and when our eyes meet again, he swallows deeply. "This is for you," I whisper. "Only, you. Remember that."

A loud, fast fiddle starts blaring from the speakers overhead, and when the curtain pulls up, and a light shines down on us, I know it's show time.

Pushing up from his lap I start to dance, mimicking moves I'd seen the other dancers do, dozens of times. It must look okay because there are cheers and applause as I make my way around the stage, swiveling my hips, giving the audience their first view.

But when the chorus hits and I listen to the words, the song takes on new meaning. "Devil Went Down to Georgia." It's fitting. Eerily so, and when I look at Mamma, and see her standing there, hands clasped in front of her with a smile on her face, something tells me she didn't choose randomly.

I cannot let Richardson win. I cannot let him think he has me where he wants me. When this song is over, I am telling Jake everything and he is going to help me take that son of a bitch down. Because that is what you do when you have given your heart to someone. You have their backs, no matter what. And I know Jake has mine.

Until then, I have to make it through this dance, so instead of copying what I have seen the other girls do, I use my body to tell my own story. One that is not part of this club, but my heart.

By some strange twist of fate, Jake is here, and I want to show him why I am dancing. Ellery and Cruz, and the future they deserve, and Jake and I, and the chapters we have yet to write…they are why I am here. My zany, strong, beautiful, family that I found and could not live without.

I glide back over to Jake, and straddle his lap once more, grinding against him the way I do when it's just the two of us. The hard length of his erection under his jeans rubs up and down the lace of my G-string, igniting my nerves and stirring a fire in my core.

Before I work us both up too much, I bend backward until my hair skims the ground, and with my legs locked around his, let go of the chair and place both hands on the ground, and bring my legs up overhead, coming down into the splits.

From where I am on the floor, I can see under the ballcap and Jake's eyes are blown, not in disgust but lust. His hands grip the chair, white knuckled, and knowing that he trusts me to do this for whatever reason I have to, I push back up, confidence flowing through me.

I canvass the stage once more, dancing as if I am in Ellery's living room, the two of us sixteen again, laughing and dancing as MTV plays in the background. Then I spin around and around like I am twirling with my Momma in our backyard like we used to do when I was a girl. But as I shimmy back over to the chair and stand in front of Jake, I move my hips slowly like I did that first night we had sex while reaching for the bow tie in the front of the baby doll and pull it free.

It flutters down my body, landing at my feet in soft waves of chiffon, as I place my hands on my hips and move them around and around like a Hula dancer. My tits stand at attention, nipples hard under the daisy pasties staring back at him, and I have never felt more powerful or adored in all my life.

I know the men came here to see my body. To get an eyeful of what they hope to have. But I am not for sale. My body, my heart, belongs to the guy in the chair in front of me, so my ass, which is as covered as it is while I'm on the beach, will have to do.

Cheers and whistles erupt, the audience hungry for me to turn around, but I defy their desires and satisfy my own. I reach for Jake's knees and yank his legs apart—the groan I hear over the music, telling me his dick is painfully hard—and when I bring them back together and straddle his lap once more, I grab the back of the chair and bring my chest to his.

My heart is pounding, my breathing fast, but when the lights start to fade, followed by the music's end and the curtain falling, he wraps one arm around my waist and with his other hand, grabs my chin and kisses me. With the safety of the curtain and darkness of the stage protecting us, I wrap both arms around him, and return the kiss as if my life depends on it.

He holds me tight as our teeth gnash and tongues tangle, and when the lights start to come back on, I pull back, breathless. "We have to go."

I slip off his lap and reach for his hand, yanking him from the chair and hurrying over to the side of the stage. Some routines end with the dancers collecting cash from the customers, while others disappear behind the curtain, leaving the collection up to a staff member who makes their way around the crowd like it's the offertory during church. Right now, a staff member is collecting money from the grubby hands of customers, and it's our chance to get out of here.

"Where is he?" I ask Mamma as I hurry down the stairs, Jake's hand in mine.

"Tending to business." She flicks her eyes down the hall then looks back at me. "Take the back exit. Go now."

I throw my arms around her neck and squeeze tight. "Thank you."

She pats my back, smoothing her hand down over my hair. "The moment I saw you, I knew you didn't belong here. You were destined for the same greatness I saw in your momma."

I pull back slowly, looking at her. "What?"

She places a hand on my cheek and smiles. "Someday maybe the universe will bring us back together and I can explain. Right now, you need to get that boy out of here."

I rush to the dressing room and let go of Jake's hand, kicking off my heels, and pulling on my jeans, before throwing on my T-shirt and slipping into my shoes. The lace of the G-string is bunched up my ass and the pasties are stuck on so tight they hurt, but I don't care. I need to get out of here.

Grabbing my bag I sling it over my shoulder cross-body style and reach for his hand again. He closes it around mine, holding it tight, and we bolt out of the dressing room and down the hall toward the back deck.

As I reach the end, I see a door cracked open to my left. It's a supply closet I think. I saw a staff member open it and stash a broom inside once. I glance inside, a habit from snooping the past few days, and when I see a sliver of light coming from the inside corner, I stop to check it out.

"What are you doing?" Jake whispers urgently. "We have to go."

"Hold on," I hold up my hand.

Stepping into the closet, I look around, seeing the expected items: broom, bucket, shelves of cleaning supplies. But when I place my hand on the back wall to check for the source of the light in the corner, it opens. I look at Jake, mouth open, as a circular staircase comes into view.

I give him a look that says let's check it out and he shakes his head. When I widen my eyes further to indicate I'm telling, not asking, he takes a deep breath, then pulls me back and steps in front of me.

Holding a finger to his lips, he starts down the stairs, back flat against the wall, and I do the same. Light from an unknown source fills the stairwell and when we hit the last stair, and find ourselves in a hallway, I find the cause. Lining the hall to our right is a series of gas lanterns, and to our left, nothing but darkness.

Making our way down the hall to the right, I look around noting the age of the stone. I would have never guessed this was beneath the club, then again, there are tunnels all over the south. Remnants from long ago when the nation was at war.

The hallway comes to a fork, with another dark hall to the left, and a door to the right. Jake stops short and pulls back when we hear voices on the other side.

He leans in and places his ear against the wood, while I crouch down and peer through the keyhole. On the other side is a room, well maintained with a roaring fireplace, bookshelves flanking the sides, and a large mahogany desk with a leather chair behind it.

"You told me she would be ready," a man says angrily from inside.

"What do you expect?" Richardson replies, coming into view with a drink in hand.

What? I pull back. How did he get down here? Wasn't he just upstairs?

"You wanted them young," Richardson sets his drink down on the desk and sinks down in the chair. "Can't expect to ride a horse without breaking it in, can you?"

"Fuck that." The man comes over and stands in front of the desk, standing with his back to us. He's tall and broad, with a barrel chest, and salt and pepper colored hair that's combed over to the side. "I want my money back."

"No Dice, Clegg," Richardson laughs and kicks his feet up onto the desk. "You bought her, she's yours."

"Clegg?" I look up at Jake who looks down at me.

"What?" he mouths.

Where have I heard that name before?

"I got you into that fucking seat you're in," Richardson says haughtily as I turn my attention back to the keyhole. "Which means you will do as you're told."

"What do you want me to do with her?" The man presses both hands down the desk and leans in. "She can't suck, or fuck. She's no use."

"Dump her in the swamp," Richardson shrugs. "Or sell her to one of your Russki friends. I don't give a shit. If you want another girl, it's going to cost you."

"Richardson," the man growls.

"Listen, Senator," he sits up. "I don't give a shit what you do with her. If you want another girl, it's going to cost you. Period."

Senator…Clegg….Holy shit! That's the guy who stepped into Ellery's father's seat after he died.

A moan from somewhere inside the room pricks my ears and I press my eye back against the doorknob, trying to find the source. In the corner of the room is a girl lying on a leather soft, bleached blonde hair, falling over her face.

"Fine," Clegg says gruffly. "I want one of the others."

"That's more like it." Richardson smiles. "Who do you want?"

"The cigar girl. Those legs and that ass….woo-wee," he whistles.

"You're a dirty ole bastard," Richardson laughs.

"It takes one to know one."

The two men laugh and Richardson leans back. "What are you willing to pay?"

"Name your price."

"You sure you don't want one of the others?" Richardson looks over to the sofa. "There's more where that one came from."

Something about the way he says it makes my stomach clench.

"Shit." Jake pulls back from the door and reaches for my hand. "We have to go, now."

This time I don't refuse. What we've just heard is proof Richardson and this club are up to no good. "We have to help her."

"We'll call the cops once we've put enough distance between us and this place," Jake says with confirmation. "Right now my concern is you."

We reach the top of the stairs and leave the supply closet, bolting through the back door. "Where the fuck are we?" he asks when we burst out onto the back deck.

"It's a club," I confirm, as frogs and crickets call out from beyond. "It's owned by Langston Richardson."

"It's …what?" His eyes narrow.

"Royce's father," I nod. "One of those men you just heard was him."

Jake runs a hand through his hair and blows out a charged breath. "And you've been working for him?"

I bite the corner of my lip and nod. "At night. This is my second job. Although, that's not what I would call it."

Hearing the shift in my voice, Jake pulls me to him, eyes hard. "What did he do to you, Sparky?"

I ball my hands into fists and bring them to his chest, tears pricking my eyes. "I'm doing this to save your life. All of ours."

"What do you mean?" His eyes search mine.

"Richardson knows it was me who shot Royce and that you and Cruz helped cover it up. He came to me weeks ago with evidence from that night. Security camera footage that implicates all of us."

His eyes narrow to the point of slits. "He's blackmailing you?"

I nod. "One year here secures the evidence that incriminates me. Four years for all of it."

"Four years?" His eyes flick to the door, burning with anger. "Are you kidding me?"

"No," my voice falters. "I'd just come back from Highland and thought the three of you were about to move on, and I didn't want you to pay for what I'd done. So I agreed. I'd agree to anything if it kept you all safe."

Jake cups my face, as my lower lip starts to quiver. "Sparky…shit, why didn't you tell me?"

I close my eyes, and a tear rolls down my cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. But I didn't dance until tonight. He made me. He has been watching me and knew you came to see me. Told me if I didn't break things off he'd hurt you."

He looks at me, eyes full of the emotion constricting the muscles in my chest and the breath in my lungs. "He'd have to kill me to keep me away from you."

He pulls me to his chest and I wrap my arms around him, gripping his back tight. "How are you here?" I murmur.

"Construction on I-95. Detour routed me through the backwoods and past the entrance to this place."

"Detour?" I shake my head and pull back. "There is no construction on I-95."

He looks at me, confused, and it's then I realize….Richardson. He knew Jake was coming and worked his manipulative magic to get him here. Shit. That means….

"We need to go, now." I reach for his hand and turn to leave, but a sharp pain pricks my neck and the world around me fades to darkness.