Chapter One
Everleigh
Three Years Ago
I drag my hands slowly over top my curves, lingering on my breasts and hips as I flip my hair forward. As a stripper, this is a money-making pose. Men go wild for it. I pop my waist forward, and curve my hands over my bare breasts, flipping my hair back with energy before dropping to the ground to spread my legs wide. The music is deafening,The Pussycat Dolls, Buttons. It’s a classic for strippers, but I own it, and when money floods the stage, it’s confirmed. I see mostly twenties, but there are a few tens, and a couple hundred-dollar bills mixed in. The night has been kind to me, and so has my audience. They’re still cheering for me to continue, despite knowing that my set is over. Most of them are regulars, men who spend half their paychecks here between the bar and the stage.
One man in particular catches my eye. He’s a usual, but he’s dressed so well that it doesn’t look like he belongs on this side of town. Grey slacks, an expensive jacket, and a watch that looks like it cost him a fortune. I’ve never looked at watches that shiny. It’s brushed and polished white gold with a blue dial sunburst pattern. I fixate on the elaborate finish on the watch, the way the hour hand shines as the dial ticks. It’s gorgeous, mesmerizing, expensive, and screams at how elite the man is. Usually, he stays tucked in the darkest corner of the room, but tonight, he approaches the stage. At least I think he’s coming toward the stage. I haven’t looked up to see. Instead, I’ve busied myself with picking up the cash. As he gets closer, I catch his width in my peripheral vision and my heart pounds. Maybe he has a complaint. I did dance a few minutes less tonight, but my head is pounding from the tequila I shot before coming on stage. I don’t usually make a habit of drinking, but Max was so turned up tonight before I came in, my nerves have been on edge. I love him to death, but lately something has been off. He hasn’t been eating well, he hasn’t been sleeping, and he seems overly paranoid about everything. Suddenly, he’s checking his back, refusing phone calls, and has been hyper aware of everywhere I go. Maybe it’s a control thing. I’d be weird if he were stripping every night too. A few of the girls say they have that issue with their boyfriends.
I glance toward Max in the opposite corner of the room. He’s tall and wide, like a linebacker, his stance forward and stiff as he watches the man with the watch approach the stage. That’s what this is. It’s jealousy. I’ll talk to him tonight, reassure him that I’m only doing this until I’m done with school.
The man at the stage clears his throat to get my attention, then lifts a stack of bills toward me, keeping his head down. His cuff links lift to show off the expensive watch closer.
Damn, that thing is shiny.
In the man’s hand, he holds a stack of hundred-dollar bills, wrapped in a bank issued paper ring with a blue mark above the ten where it states ten thousand dollars. My heart stops as I stare back at him, trying to get a better look, but he lets go of the stack so fast and turns that I don’t see his face before he heads for the door.
I hop off the stage and holler toward him, but he keeps moving. His shoulders are broad and there’s a scent of cedar being left in his trail, but that’s all I can garner before Max grips my arm and pulls me into his orbit.
“Where are you going?” His tone is dark and ragged.
I show him the stack of cash. “That man, he just gave me ten grand! I have to see who he is.”
Max stares at the cash, then looks toward me. “Get dressed. I’ll stop him.” There’s an intensity in his gaze that scares me a little. It’s almost like he’s angry, but I can’t figure why. Maybe he didn’t hear me sayten grand!
“I’m not mad at the man,” I say. “I want to thank hi—”
“Evie,” he says, running a hand down over my bare shoulder. He’s the only one I let call me by that name. It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that it sounds like something you’d name your pet. For him, I let it slide. Maybe it’s the deep rasp in his voice when he says it. His gaze holds firm with mine. “Get dressed, please.”
If this were a game ofNever Have I Ever, I would say,Never have I ever listened to a man when he’s telling me what to do, but there’s something about the way Max’s eyes glare back at me that says getting dressed and letting him handle the money is in my best interest.
I nod slowly, holding eye contact with him for a long moment as he squeezes my hand, the scar on his right thumb passing back and forth in waves before he runs out the door toward the watch guy, the bundle of cash he’d given me now gone. Turning back into the smoke-filled room, I make my way back stage.
What the hell is going on with him? Did he know that guy? Does this have to do with all the paranoia he’s had lately?
As I sneak behind the velvet curtain, I notice the next girl is already on stage, climbing the pole with her ass toward the crowd. No one even notices me anymore, which is fine by me. I toss on the black sundress I wore in before covering my shoulders with a fuzzy pink cardigan. The comfort of the sweater after a night of being exposed usually shifts me into a different headspace, but tonight is different. It was different before the ten grand. Max just isn’t right. I’ve known him for three years, we’re engaged to be married, and I’m one of the few people he trusts. If he isn’t paranoid about the stripping thing, I’m not sure what the hell is going on. Whatever it is, I just hope he doesn’t give that man his ten grand back. I could really use it for school. Hell, if I were dancing in some luxury club, I’d bet this would be happening all the time. But for someone like me, out here, on the other side of the tracks, this is Christmas morning on steroids.
Normally, Max is the definition of my dream man. The only reason he’s even here every night is because he insists on making sure I’m safe. It was the compromise we made after he begged me to quit, but I refused. Funny thing is, I’d be able to quit with that ten grand. It’s the last of the money I owe to the university. Max knows that.
Grabbing my duffle bag, I rush out of the back room and into the bar, hoping to see Max back at his usual spot by the front door, but I don’t. In fact, it looks like the crowd has turned over all together. A different group of men sit by the stage and Ronnie, the bartender, has even switched off shift in lieu of Katrina, whose bikini top and long dark hair will definitely liven up the crowd.
I glance back toward the doorway, my stomach starting to knot as I wait for Max to return.
“You need a drink, sweetie?” Katrina asks, making her rounds with a tray flat on her palm. “You look stressed. Something happen?”
I shake my head and snap a look toward the door again. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
“You change your mind, I’m here ‘til three.”
Forcing a polite smile, I lower myself down onto a bar stool near the door. I could wait outside, but it’s a pretty sketchy neighborhood, the kind where gun shots ring out and no one blinks. Police drive by every few hours, but nothing regular. I think the most money the city spent on this area in five years was the updated streetlamps. The people down at the tax building figure if they’re shining a light on crime, it won’t happen, but I say it just gave the dealers an easier view as they count their stacks.
Stacks.Who would have stacks of cash like what that man gave me? And that watch, it was too nice to have been on an accountant or a banker like some of the men that travel to this part of town for a night of fun.What if the man Max ran after was a drug dealer?What if Max is in trouble?What if that’s the real reason he’s been worried about me?I gave him such a hard time about not quitting. A better girlfriend would’ve listened.
My stomach flutters and a wave of nausea washes over me. I check my cell for the time. My set was over at ten thirty. It’s eleven fifteen.
There’s no way he would’ve left me alone for forty-five minutes, not in this neighborhood, not this late, not with the distrust he’s been carrying lately.
I dial his number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
