Austin didn’t join in with Frankie’s snickering and instead cocked his head. “I’d like to know too. Last I remember, Harlan had gone to rehab. It’s only been thirty days. How can you trust him to make sure he won’t relapse?”
I knew it would be harder to convince Austin than Frankie that Harlan had changed. Talking about this in the club wasn’t ideal, but lately it was damn near impossible to get the three of us in one space together. Between Frankie working almost nonstop promoting both Sparks and Man Up, and Austin designing apartments, the only time we had a chance to see each other was at the club when I had a break from dancing.
“Shouldn’t I be encouraging him? Showin’ him I have faith? That’s what a friend would do, right?” I met Austin with a level stare of my own. “Isn’t that what you would do for me?”
“But you can’t be sure.”
“Ain’t nothing sure in life except death. And I’d much rather think on the positive than always assume people are gonna hurt me or let me down.”
“That’s because you’ve been lucky and haven’t had it happen to you.”
“You know I love you, Austin, but you don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about. Just ’cause I don’t talk about it, don’t mean I ain’t been kicked to the curb. You don’t get to have the monopoly on being hurt.” It was past time I got back to dancing. “I’ll talk to y’all later.” Without waiting for a response, I stood and strode away, hopping up onstage. I scanned the room and caught sight of a crowd of men with bottles on their table, clapping and getting into Tristan’s pole-dancing.
“Hey there, cowboy, my friend over there is ready to be roped and hog-tied,” one of them called up to me as he approached the stage, bills in hand. I glanced over to a sweet-faced man with a head of curls and a scruffy beard lining his jaw. He blushed as red as my mama’s tomatoes and quickly looked away.
I hopped down, swung my lasso, and caught him about the shoulders to shouts of delight from his friends. “Howdy. Want a dance?” He bit his lip and nodded. His friend came up behind me, and as he tucked bills into the waistband of my chaps, whispered in my ear, “He found out his boyfriend was cheating on him, and they broke up. Make him forget his troubles.”
I put my arms on his shoulders, and while I danced, I learned his name was Bentley and he was also from Texas, although from the middle part of the state. I bumped and grinded against him, and by the end of the dance, Bentley held me around the waist. His face was flushed pink with laughter and the drinks his friends kept plying him with. He nuzzled my cheek, and his hands crept lower, past my hips.
“Can I kiss you?” he breathed into my ear. “You’re so hot. Come home with me and we can fuck.”
I stopped dancing and took a step back. I knew it was the alcohol talking. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, and he swayed when he stood. Poor guy was going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning, but I wouldn’t be there to help him through it.
“Sorry. I got someone waiting for me at home.”
He squinted at me through red-rimmed eyes. “You do? Then what are ya doin’ here? If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be dancing in no strip club.”
His question brought me up short, and I couldn’t think of an answer as I collected my tips from his friends. Tonight did feel different than other nights of dancing, whether it was that Harlan and I had come to an understanding, or it was something else. Either way, I felt uninspired and not fully present. I wanted to be home.
“Not a bad night for you, but not your best. What’s wrong?” José asked when I handed over my tips. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here.”
“Not anywhere. Home.”
“Oh yeah?” He quirked a brow, and we watched Morgan get bounced on a man’s lap while Juno wound himself around the pole. Tristan was at a table, cape flaring behind him as he danced, playing Zorro to the hilt. “What you got going on there? Or who, need I ask?”
“Not you too,” I grumbled but couldn’t hold back my grin. “You been talking to the guys?”
“I know he’s back. Hector told me you and Harlan came by to talk to James.”
I’d forgotten Hector and José were a couple. “Ain’t nothing secret around here? Damn.”
“Don’t get all defensive on me, son.” We sat in silence for a moment. “You good?” he asked.
“Better than.”
A patron called to him from the other side of the bar. “Gotta go. But if that’s what you want, I’m happy for you.”
Later that night, coming home to the apartment, I found Harlan asleep on the sofa with the television on. When I clicked it off, he yawned and sat up.
“Hey. You just getting home?”
I grinned at him, liking how he called this place home now. I sat down next to him, thinking how sexy he looked all sleep-disheveled.
“Yeah.”
He scratched his chest and yawned again. “Mmm. I was watching some documentary about lions.”
“Oh?” I kissed his neck. “Sounds fascinatin’”
