Even Better (Stripped 2.50)

Blue’s expression turns faintly speculative and a little proud. “Now you’re making me jealous,” he says.

His voice is mild, but it still makes me twist inside. Is that guilt? I know I’m not doing anything wrong chatting with West while Blue is gone, but maybe the guilt doesn’t have anything to do with that. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m just as much a guest here as West, except his stay is only temporary. Mine is supposed to be permanent—but how can I stay here if I can’t contribute? What can I possibly do when my only skill is taking off my clothes?

Of course Blue says I’m welcome here regardless. More than welcome. He pretty much demanded I move in, and he’s been completely generous about every aspect, from closet space to doing his share of the chores. He doesn’t want a dime from me for rent, especially since I quit stripping at the club. That’s not going to last forever though.

If there’s one thing my childhood taught me, it’s that nothing good lasts forever.

Chapter Three

“This lasagna is delicious,” West says, leaning back in his chair, his plate wiped clean.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve been eating out of a tin can the past few months.”

“Try years,” he says with a laugh. “And a tin can was too good for the army. More like bars of cardboard.”

Blue snorts. “They haven’t come up with anything better?”

“That’s what the robots are for,” West says with a wink. “Don’t need food.”

“Don’t bleed either.” Blue takes a swig of his beer.

“Amen to that.” West nods to me. “Hope you don’t mind me packing it away while I’m here. Found a few places to check out, but once I get my own place, I don’t have much skills in the kitchen.”

“Now that will involve a tin can,” Blue says.

I laugh and shake my head. West has only been here a couple of days, but I already know I’ll miss him when he leaves. “You’re always welcome to swing by for dinner. It’s easy enough to cook for three as it is for two. But I doubt you’ll need it once you start working at the Grand. The food there is pretty great.”

“Is it?” he asks, his voice mild, but even so I am acutely aware that it’s a strip club—and I just brought it up at the dinner table. My cheeks heat. I danced onstage for so long you’d think I’d have lost any modesty. Just a few months away and I’m already blushing like a virgin at the mere mention of it.

Of course, West will be working there, so it’s not like I’d expect him to get all weird about it. So far he hasn’t looked down on me or even checked me out, as far as I’ve seen. But it’s different for a man working security and a girl working the pole.

Blue nods. “Owner’s kind of old-school. Good food. Top shelf liquor, none of that watered down shit. The works.”

“Hey, man, that’s nice and all, but I’m just grateful to have a job.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re an asset, to my company and to the club.”

“I haven’t even started working there,” West says.

“Already know,” Blue says easily. He has a casual sort of confidence that’s infectious, but I can see that West is still worried.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll work my ass off, that’s for sure. You don’t have to worry about me there.”

“But?” I ask softly.

West looks down, peeling away the label on his beer bottle with long fingers, making a project out of getting it all off in one piece. “But it’s been rough being back, gotta be honest with you.”

Blue swears softly. “It’s only been a couple days. It’ll get better.”

“Will it?” West meets his eyes, and I watch something pass between the two men—a dark understanding. “Sometimes I think the only thing I know how to do is fight.”

I shiver, because I know Blue thinks the same way. Or at least, he used to. That’s why he got involved in an underground fighting ring. I wonder if West will get involved too. And I wonder if Blue is done with that, now that he wants to start a family with me.

Blue leans forward. “It does get better. And in the meantime, there’s a certain amount of fighting you gotta do at the club. There are assholes who want to push past the boundaries, who want more than what they’re willing to pay for. Assholes who don’t understand no.”

West’s eyes darken, and he glances at me. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged that I was a stripper. But he does now, expression both curious and sympathetic. “You glad to be out of there?” he asks.