Dirty Deeds (Get Dirty 3)

Maggie grins, sighing happily. “Honestly, I feel free. You have to understand. The Daily Spot isn’t like working for CNN or even TMZ. Sure, it was a job, but everyone there—well, nearly everyone—was either trying to scramble their way up the ladder or was bitterly hanging on so they didn’t fall down to Weekly World News level. It was dog-eat-dog, and not even about important things. Just an overarching sense of desperation and disrespect. And here with you, even though we’re basically being held hostage and everything’s going to hell right now . . . I feel free.”

She smiles, and I’m struck stupid once again at her beauty. I don’t know how, or why, but I do think I’ve freed her of something she’s been carrying around for a very long time. Although I bet if I were to dig deep enough, I’d find out that all I did was help her free herself.

From there, we spend the rest of the afternoon and well into the night talking about our lives, our hopes and dreams, books, TV, and everything in between. It’s like we’re taking our courtship, the little things that most people learn over the course of weeks or even months of dating, and compressing them into a hyper-speed conversation.

But I don’t feel rushed at all. Instead, with every revelation from the mundane to the philosophical, I fall deeper in love with this girl, storing away every tidbit she gives me in my heart.

The heat builds between us, embers always burning just below the surface but spark-flashing into flames, and we pause our conversation to make love or fuck, sometimes both. The pulsing music from the club below occasionally gives us a new tempo to match, leaving us both laughing at times afterward.

With Maggie, even when I’m slamming into her from behind, her hair wrapped in my fist as she cries out, her ass pink from my hand and my marks all over her smooth skin . . . even then, it’s a hundred percent love.

Finally, we fall into bed together, happily exhausted.

“Well, at least we’ve done one thing right,” Maggie says as she giggles and lays a naked thigh across my leg.

“What’s that?” I ask. “I think we’ve done a lot of things right today.”

“Oh, no doubt. But what I meant was that everyone goes to a strip club to indulge in a sexual fantasy, but it’s only that, a fantasy. We get to do the real thing.”

“Good point. Now we just need to get a pole up here and—”

Maggie tickles me in the ribs, making me laugh. “And I’ll make you dance for me!”

I don’t answer, but the reality is if she asked, I damn well might do it.

Chapter 23

Maggie

By late that night, or technically early the next morning, Shane and I finally lift our heads from being lost in each other and the hopes that there’s any way this is going to be okay.

Okay, okay . . . we lift our heads from a nap, but as I told Shane, I’m unemployed.

Soon after the club closes, we carefully head downstairs, as Shane says he wants to check in with Dominick. I sneak backstage and find Allie alone in the locker room.

She’s dressed in her silky robe, sitting at a mirrored table to remove the layers of makeup she wears for the stage. “Hey, Allie. How was the show tonight?”

She looks up, meeting my eyes in the mirror, and I can tell she’s still mad. Guess I can understand. I mean, I did drop a grenade into the middle of her world.

“No, don’t do that,” Allie replies, barbs in every word that sting as they hit my eardrums. “Don’t ask me shit like how my dancing went or how my night was. Like you care when your whole gig here was fake.”

Ouch. I step into the dressing room, really trying. Allie’s important to me. “I do care. And it wasn’t all fake. Yeah, the job, calling myself Meghan . . . but I meant what I said about feeling like I belonged here and that I found a family.”

Allie snorts, her eyes glued to the mirror as she peels her fake lashes off. “I don’t know if I should believe that. I mean, you’re obviously a good liar, so how can I ever believe what you say?”

I sigh, hugging myself and knowing she’s got a point. “You’re right, but I swear, Allie. You’re one of my best friends, not just in this life,” I say, indicating the club around us, “but in my whole life. You think I didn’t want to let you in all the way? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth and that it hurt you.”

Allie finally turns around to face me. “This is some really fucked up shit you’ve gotten me into. I didn’t know all that stuff from yesterday.”