Better When It Hurts (Stripped 2)

“I don’t want to live in the past anymore. Give me a future, Lola.”

I shove against him, but he’s immovable. A mountain. “You don’t deserve a stripper for a girlfriend. You don’t deserve a shitty job at a strip club either. You’re better than all of this.”

His eyes take on a painful light, a raw intensity that’s reflected in his voice. “That’s where you’re wrong. All this time, all these years, I’ve been nothing. Only when I’m near you am I anything at all. I don’t deserve you, but not because you’re a stripper. I don’t deserve you because of what I did to you, how I’ve treated you. But even knowing that, I can’t let you go.”

“I can’t,” I say brokenly. I can’t be with him, can’t pretend we’re okay. I can never tell him the truth about that night long ago, and that means we’ll never be together. “Please. Let me go.”

For the first time, doubt enters his eyes. He can be demanding and forceful. He can be cold. The one time he asks for something, when faced with the answer no, he doesn’t look mean. He looks at me with longing, as if I’m miles away instead of trapped by his body. As if I’m years away—because really I’m still just a scared little girl with no one to turn to.

* * *

The sun is already high by the time I reach home. In broad daylight it’s clear how much I haven’t done. I can pay the taxes and the water bill, but I can’t bring the plants in the flower box back to life. I can’t turn this run-down house in a scary neighborhood into home.

For now.

Blue’s parting words echo in my head, relenting for the moment, promising so much more. I don’t know how to tell him why we can’t be together. And sometimes, when his hands are on me, when his scent is in my lungs, I don’t know myself. But then I see this house and the Grand. I remember who I am again. I’m the unwanted child and the cheap slut.

I’m everything men told me to be. All the men I’ve known except Blue.

The sidewalk has a thousand cracks, the concrete pieces slanted. It’s like there’s been a tiny apocalypse on the ground of this neighborhood, leaving only rubble. As many times as I’ve walked home, I have to watch my step. I have to choose each step carefully, gaze trained to the ground.

I see the shadow first—something swooping in. A bird overhead, that’s my first thought. Only there’s a hand on my wrist. There’s a rough voice in my ear. Then I’m tripping, falling, landing in the rubble where I belong.

“Little bitch thought you could ignore me?”

I gasp as a hand circles my throat. It’s hard to speak, to breathe, but I force out the words. “What…are you…”

“Then you sent your guard dog after me.”

He drags me along the sidewalk. My feet kick against broken rock.

Attacked. I’m being attacked.

I’m in broad daylight. My gaze whips over the neighborhood, but it’s empty. The middle of the day and it’s fucking empty because everyone here is like me—working nights and sleeping days, hiding inside as much as possible. I think a curtain moves behind a window across the street, but I don’t have hope that they’ll come help.

I don’t even know if they’ll call the police. Cops are crooked enough to bring their own kind of trouble, and the people here know that.

Which means I’m on my own.

I land against the slatted wood panel on the side of the house. The world is spinning, but I push up, ready to fight. One look behind me and my eyes go wide. “You?”

It’s the client from the club, the one who hurt me. The one who waited for me.

And apparently followed me home.

Travis’s eye is swollen, and his lip is split. Then you sent your guard dog after me. Who did that to him? But I already know the answer. It’s Blue.

I clench my hands into fists. Blue is taller than me, heavier. Stronger. He could beat up this man and not have to worry. I’ve never had that luxury. I’ve only ever had my tits and my ass and the clench of my pussy to win them over.

Judging by the look on Travis’s face, he’s not looking for a lap dance.

He sneers. “You think you’re too good for me?”

I swallow, mind racing. How the hell am I going to get out of this? I’m not, though. I’m not getting out of it this time, just like I didn’t that night long ago. “No,” I say, voice low and trembling.

Good. Let him think I’m afraid.

Doesn’t matter if it’s the truth. He’ll underestimate me, and I need every advantage I can get. I may not get out of this, but I’ll go down fighting.