No. No. Jace has to be wrong.
“Claire,” I say and she looks up at me, but then back down.
“What?”
“Look at me,” I demand, but she doesn’t for a second.
Then slowly, she looks up at me and my heart starts to pound in my chest because something is very wrong here. “Why are your eyes brown?”
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She then takes a deep breath in and says, “I go to the club in a disguise. I wear a blond wig and brown contacts when I’m there.”
“Why?” I ask. “Because that doesn’t seem right if you are only choreographing. You don’t cake that much makeup on when you teach at the studio or when you do the dance team. Hell, even when you’re on the ice, you don’t have on that much makeup.”
I wait, and when her eyes start to fill with tears, I know that Jace isn’t wrong at all.
My girlfriend is a stripper.
Within seconds, my whole body is taut, burning with anger as I stare down at her, waiting for her to say something. Fucking anything, but all she’s doing is staring at me, taking in deeps breaths, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Unable to take it any longer, I say, “Well?”
“What did Jace say?” she asks, and I shake my head.
“Fuck no. Don’t let him tell me what you need to tell me.”
Biting into her lip, a tear rolls down her face and I refuse to look away. I promised to myself that I would never make her cry unhappy tears, that I would have a life for us full of love and happiness, but all I feel right now is red-hot anger.
She’s lied to me. She’s hidden something from me, and that’s not fucking okay.
Her lip wobbles, and she takes in a deep breath. “I work at Ms. Prissy’s as a dancer.”
And there it is. My blood boils under my skin as I slowly shake my head. “For how long?”
“Two years,” she answers and everything stops.
“Two fucking years? And you never told me?” I say, my voice getting louder with each word.
“It didn’t matter. It wasn’t what I planned on doing my whole life. I just need the money.”
“So you whored yourself out to get money and lied to me. Now it all makes sense,” I say, a lump forming in my throat. “All those nights you came to my house, saying that you couldn’t sleep. Lies. That day I found that money in your drawer, that wasn’t from Reese. It was from where you took your clothes off for men.”
“I don’t take my clothes off,” she cries. “I dance in panties and a bra.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me any more than you have,” I sneer. “I’ve been to that place.”
Her eyes fill with more tears as she nods. “I know, but you probably went to the Rock Room side. I work on the Burlesque side. I keep my clothes on. I do entice men for money, but they don’t touch me or ever see me naked. It’s not a big deal,” she says, and I laugh but with no humor.
“So if it isn’t a big deal then why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, taking a step toward her. “If you weren’t doing anything wrong, then why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
Tears start to roll down her cheeks in waves, and something inside me just breaks. “I’m sorry, but you have to understand. I needed the money. I needed to know that I would always be safe and secure. I would never go hungry or have to sleep in a car to make it.”
“What the fuck am I, Claire? I would never let that happen. I would work nine jobs just to make sure you are safe and happy! But no, you go and whore yourself out and lie to me,” I insist. “I would do anything for you, and I have. I haven’t lied to you or hurt you, and you’ve been lying to me our whole relationship!”
“You don’t understand, Jude! I went through hell, and I promised that I would never depend on anyone again because the people I trusted and loved left me to fend for myself. I wouldn’t eat for days; I had to sleep in a little section of the car because my mom would sprawl out, giving me no room. I had nothing. I had no one, and I thought money would be the way to fix that. I thought as long as I had money, then I wouldn’t need anything else, but I realize that I was wrong. I need you and I need my family, but I let the fact that I was making so much money ruin that, and in the process I lied to the two men I love and need more than my next breath,” she cries, big wet tears rolling down her cheeks and landing on her shirt.
As much as I want to gather her in my arms and tell her it’s okay, I know it’s not. I love this girl, I mean, I fucking do, but I refuse to be lied to. I refuse to be a doormat like my mother is. Claire has hurt me, honestly broken me. Like I feel as if she has carved my heart hollow and I just don’t understand. How do you lie to someone you love? Looking away, I take in a deep breath, willing myself to breathe and not lose my shit. I want to scream; I want to yell and even shake her to make her see how much she’s hurt me. That thought scares me to the core, but I know I’d never put a hand on her.
Looking up at me, her face full of black streaks from her makeup running, she whispers, “Jude, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry?” I scoff. “This isn’t something that you can be sorry for because you knew you were wrong!” I yell, my own eyes filling with tears. “How did you look at me every night and day and hold this from me? You know how I feel about people looking at you, wanting you. You know how jealous I can get. I’ve learned to let it go because I trust you, but what am I supposed to think now? How am I ever supposed to trust you again?”