Fortunately, I know how to dance through the distraction. It doesn’t make me feel like I’ve put in all my true effort to earn the customers’ money. I know that they probably left feeling as if I did, but I know I haven’t, and I’m disappointed in myself.
When the night is over, I slip on my sweatpants and hoodie over the body glitter I’ve painted myself with. Gathering my duffel bag, I throw the straps over my shoulder and turn toward the door, only to be met with Anna.
She doesn’t have her usual clipboard in hand, likely because the night is over, and like me, she’s getting ready to head home. But she’s not letting me go anywhere just yet. Arching a brow, I stand in front of her, waiting for whatever it is she wants to say.
She’s got something on her mind.
When she doesn’t move or speak, I decide to call out her name because I personally would like to go home for the evening. And as much as I would like to walk right through her to do that, I can’t.
“Anna?”
She nods once, clearing her throat before she finally speaks. “Mr. Bennet talked to you about those men…” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hum. Though I don’t confirm or deny, she knows I know. It’s not a question. She’s just stating the reason for her stopping me from leaving. Whatever it is, she finds it serious, at leastjudging by the way her brows are knitted together as her gaze searches mine.
I start to say her name again, but she begins talking, so thankfully I don’t have to. She blinks slowly, and then her eyes find mine again. She presses her lips together and takes a step toward me, but only one.
“I know who they are,” she whispers. “I was with a Bloodbound MC guy when I was a teenager. I’m scared to death.”
Her words strike a chord deep inside me. I can see the vulnerability in her eyes. I can hear the trepidation in her voice. She’s scared. I can sense her fear. She’s not just a little scared but terrified. And honestly, I can’t blame her.
From what I remember, the Bloodbound MC was scary as fuck. Ruthless and nothing like the men of the Vicious Reapers, although I’m sure I don’t know even half of what went on. Dropping my bag to the floor, I rush toward her and wrap my arms around her, giving her a hug. Her arms wrap around me as well, almost as if she’s trying to absorb my comfort.
She’s trembling. “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper in her ear. “I promise you, it’s going to be okay.”
Anna shifts backward slightly but doesn’t release me. Her eyes find mine, her lips press together in a thin line, then she clears her throat. “You can’t know that,” she hisses.
I debate telling her the truth. Debate telling her about my past. I could tell her that it will be okay because Bennet would never let anything happen to us, but I don’t know if that’s true. He doesn’t know half the shit that goes on here. That man is all about depositing money into his account and not much else.
He doesn’t know the current security is complete bullshit. Even if he does know that they aren’t the best, I doubt he realized how horrible they truly are. And if he does, that’s really sad, because that would mean he doesn’t care about his dancers.
In the end, I decide to tell her the truth, at least as much as I can without going into too much detail.
“Can you keep something between just us?” I ask, although I know in this environment, nothing stays secret for long. “I don’t want the others to know. I don’t want anyone to know, actually.”
“Millie?” she asks, but she doesn’t move.
Our arms are still around one another as we stay stock-still. I can’t remember the last time I hugged someone. Maybe Heidi, but it’s been a while. Physical affection isn’t really something I accept gracefully… or often.
“I dated a Vicious Reaper when I was a teenager.”
“From Thunder Rock?” she asks.
I know she asks from where because she knows that there are other chapters in different towns and states. So her question isn’t just out of curiosity. It’s out of necessity. I imagine that just because one chapter is somewhat decent, it doesn’t extend to every single one.
“From Thunder Rock,” I confirm.
I loved him.
Those are words I do not say. Instead, I just give her a smile while squeezing her biceps gently, then let my hands fall from her arms. She nods once, clearing her throat before she takes a step backward.
“I don’t know them all now, but I did when I was eighteen, and they were all decently good men.”
“Then we’ll just hope they’re still decently good men.”
Yes.
Let’s hope.
