Offensive Behavior

His foot fell off the stool rung and slapped to the floor. “No, you see—”

He was the one who needed to see. “Reid, are you trying to tell me what to think?”

“Yeah, because you’re—”

“Doing it my way.”

He stood, hands going to his hair. “But that makes no sense. You’re a perfectionist.”

She shook her head. She was once a champion athlete, she knew she’d made it look like perfection, but she’d rarely scored a ten and she’d learned chasing perfection could get you stuck repeating the same skills and not learning new ones. “Does my way get the job done?”

He struggled with an answer, his jaw tight, his lips mushing, so she went with, “Yes it does, just not in the way you see it happening.” And because he towered over her, she stood, not that it helped much, but it made her feel better. “This is my paper.” She went with hands on her hips. “It’s my learning. It’s the best I can do and it’s not wrong.”

“It could be more right.”

She threw her hands up. “And what would that prove.”

He narrowed his eyes. This was intimidation at spitting distance. “It would get you a better grade.”

“No,” she stepped back, not wanting to give ground but her body making the call for her. “It would get you a better grade.”

He turned away and swore. Left her and went into the dining room. She scrambled for her phone. She didn’t need this. She’d go to Kathryn’s. She saved the document and closed the laptop, pulled the power cord from the point and hit speed dial.

“Fuck.” He was back. “I’m sorry.”

The call connected. “Kathryn, it’s Zarley.” She listened as Kathryn told her about the air mattress she’d borrowed from her sister, but she glared at Reid.

He had his hands in his hair, he was breathing rapidly. “Don’t go. Please don’t go. That was inexcusable.”

“Thank your sister for me,” she told Kathryn. It would be so easy to cut out now. Be done with this thing.

“That’s the kind of shit that got me fired.”

But the sight of his contrition, the twisted expression on his face, his posture and his words were working her over, while Kathryn told her about another dancer they knew who was doing a fundraiser for airfare to get to Paris and enter the Madame Amour competition.

“I’m right but I don’t know when to back off.”

She tuned Kathryn out. Every dancer she knew wanted to compete for the Madame Amour scholarship but it was like an urban myth, like Madame herself. No one she’d heard of made it through the video audition round.

“I need you, Zarley. You’re the only one who ever pushed back and meant it.”

She covered the screen with her hand. “Not true.” It couldn’t be.

“True. Everyone else relied on me to be right. It’s different with you.”

She uncovered the phone and said to Kathryn, “When does that competition end?” She needed thinking time, said, “Ah-huh,” to Kathryn’s response and then, “I was just checking in. Hope you have a good night. See you at work Monday.” When she ended the call, she didn’t have a decision and Reid stood watching her as if she had the power to teach him more than what good sex was.

She didn’t have that power. She couldn’t even master her own life.

“I don’t understand what you want from me.”

He sat hard on a stool.

“I’m a pole dancer, not a life coach. I don’t go around fixing people’s problems.” He watched her warily. What was she doing here? She had enough on her plate. And now he wasn’t saying anything. “Reid.”

“You could fix mine.”

“From what I can see, you don’t have too many problems an occasional hard smack upside the head wouldn’t fix. You’re like an overgrown puppy who doesn’t know his own size and strength or when to heel.”