“Well, yeah, obviously. It’s not like she is going to advertisebring your own blowon the starting paperwork. The club’s entire reputation is based on discretion. I’m sure everyone there knows how to keep a secret.” He gives me a pointed look that screams duh.
“Too bad your ugly mug is scaring them all off, or you could probably get all the juicy details from one of the dancers,” he quips, trying to bring some levity back to the conversation. But now my hackles are raised, and I don’t want to let it go.
“I still think he could be a one off,” I say, trying my best to take the edge out of my tone. I can’t even really blame him for the way he views the club, its patrons and its owners. There is nothing aboutCirquethat screams innocence, a reputation for seduction, fantasy and impropriety, with Harper standing center stage.
I can’t help the tiny part of me that wonders if Marcus toldher about the altercation that day. Even worse, did she care? If it were as strict a rule as they made it seem when I started, she would have fired him if she knew, right? And yet, he was there the next day for rehearsals in his new role as runner-up. I can’t be the only one who noticed the sweat pouring off him, or the way he paced the stage like a caged beast.
“Yeah, he might be,” James tilts his head side to side in contemplation. “Or he’s just the only one dumb enough to make it obvious. I bet jewelry isn’t the only thing getting passed back and forth in that private room. Mathers is dirty, not stupid.”
I feel an overwhelming urge to hit him, his words causing the first tendrils of doubt to burrow their way into my rose-colored portrait of Harper.
The bigger problem is that despite my better judgement, and lack of any evidence to the contrary, I don’t believe his judgement of the club. Or of Harper. I don’t want to.
It’s not like I’ve gotten really close with any of the workers yet, other than Fallon, who would testify that his accusations and assumptions are baseless. But the way that even Hannah spoke about Harper, it didn’t come from a place of fear or obligation. She was offended that I would think something negatively about the way Harper treats her team. You don’t get that by being feared; you get that from being respected.
I sit quietly, no longer following the path of James’ rant, as I contemplate what I know about Harper Mathers, and the much bigger side of that scale, what I don’t know.
James eventually sees that I’ve lost interest in the bashing of my boss and changes the topic to sports and my family. When he leaves, I pull open my laptop and spend the rest of the night scouring the internet to find anything I can on Harper Mathers.
I’ll use the excuse that it’s because I want to show James that his belief is wrong and prove my employer isn’t the villainhe makes her out to be. To prove a point that he has nothing to worry about me working there. That I’m not putting myself in unnecessary danger by accepting a job much closer to the boss.
And what a pretty lie to tell myself. That this isn’t for me. That this isn’t simply because I want to know more about her. That being in her presence hasn’t awakened something in me that I can’t seem to shake.
I scroll through article after article aboutCirque’s opening and the mysterious circumstances around its owners. Page after page of useless information, trying my best to catalog any detail that might mean something. I sift through the information I already know—that she’s a co-owner with a silent partner, and that her sister’s company works for the club in private security.
She’s my boss, but she’s also what I crave, what I can’t seem to get out of my head. I know what she is, and what I want her to be.
Mine.
8
HARPER
Why is he being so quiet? I walked into the gym this morning in utter silence. No music, no soft grunts that sound far too sexual as Colton did back squats, the barbell resting across his very covered-up back.
Since when does he wear shirts? Just plain rude.
I just stood there, waiting for him to greet me or make some inappropriate joke about my outfit or hair or something. Anything. Instead, I get a head nod.
A fucking head nod.
Like I was some gym bro he picks up heavy shit with. Is he having a bad morning? I don’t know how he could be, considering how early it is. I doubt his morning started with anything other than getting up and driving here.
He wasn’t even this quiet the morning his car wouldn’t start, and he had to get a ride. I made sure not to do any real damage to the car, of course. But I wanted a morning to myself. IthoughtI wanted a morning to myself. And then five minutes went by, and I couldn’t remember why I liked being here all alone so much. Imissedhim, and I hated it. I missed his stories and his addiction to energy drinks. I missed the thud of his feet on thetreadmill next to mine. And I missed his abs. I really missed his abs.
And now, today, nothing. No smiles, no stories, and most importantly, no abs.
Did I do something? Ha, no, that’s silly. I’m perfect.
Okay, well, that’s a lie. But Colt always talks to me like he thinks I am. That the barest waves of attention I give him, even just walking next to him on the treadmill, are the highlights of his day. Grinning his stupid, dopey smile for the rest of the afternoon and well into the night.
Midway through my spiral, he steps up to the treadmill directly next to mine, like he does every morning. I thought at first maybe he had a favorite one and I just happened to have picked the one next to it, so one day I moved all the way to the other end. And like a good boy, when he came up to the treadmills to join me, he still picked the one directly next to me.
“Ooh, a change of scenery today. This is a much better section of wall to stare at than the center machines,” he had quipped, obviously aware of what I had tried to do by switching machines.
He’s here every morning for his workout without fail. The only day I don’t see him now is Sunday, when the club isn’t open. And now those days feel oppressively quiet in my empty apartment. It can’t be healthy to wish you were at work on your one day off.
If something bad had happened, he would have skipped the gym altogether, not just the part where he talks my ear off.
