Beautiful Failure (11 page)

Pulling harder on the bow, I realize that I’m loving everything about this moment—the attention, the power, the
lust
.

Moving my hand back up to my exposed breasts, I smile when I notice that Carter is smiling back at me. 

I continue eye-fucking him for the final seconds of my song, climbing onto the pole for one final series of spins.

As the song begins its decrescendo, I slow my momentum and hold my position—one leg wrapped around the pole, the other artfully held straight up with my head facing the crowd.

The second the song ends, there’s a roar of applause and I can see more bills being tossed onto the stage. I shut my eyes for a split second, silently praising myself for killing that routine, and then I carefully move myself off the pole.

I avoid eye contact with the audience as the crowd continues to cheer. I grab all of my hard earned money and my bra, and use my shirt to wipe off the metal before leaving the stage.

“Well
damn
...” Robyn shakes her head as I enter the dressing room. “I feel like I might’ve gotten pregnant after watching that.”

“
What
?” I laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“Who the hell was your target?” Sarah rushes over, smiling. “You danced ten times better than you ever did in rehearsal! And the bow thing? Nice! I’m not going to lie, I got wet watching you...I’m going to go change now.” She pats me on the back and laughs as she backs away, throwing me the thumbs up.

“Anyway...” Robyn helps me back into my bra. “That was
fucking amazing
for a debut. I am seriously impressed—
beyond
impressed.”

“Does that mean I’ll get to dance another set tonight?”

“
Hell no
.” She scoffs. “You’re a newbie. Go take some drink orders in the private boxes and make yourself useful.”

“I’m
banned
from the bar, remember?”

“You’re banned from
sitting
at the bar and staring at the drinks for too long. You can take orders from the private booths. Just write them down, give them to a
non
-alcoholic waitress, and walk away.”

I roll my eyes and head to my locker—changing into a set of dry panties; my fantasies of Carter have completely drenched my dancing ones. I put on a white shimmering midriff shirt and return to the club—making my way towards the first private box.

I’m steps away from it when I feel a familiar hand clasping mine and spinning me around.

Carter pulls me close so we’re practically chest to chest. “It’s nice seeing you again.”

“I wish I could say the same. Did you enjoy the show tonight, Mr. Black?”

“Very much so,” he says genuinely. “Can we talk
in private
?”

“I’ll have to charge you for that.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls me towards the closest private dance room. He opens the door and pushes me inside, quickly locking it.

“You know I wasn’t joking about charging you for this, right?” My voice is deadpan. “If you’re not seriously interested in a dance right now, I suggest that you—”

“I’m seriously interested in
you
.” He steps forward—backing me against the door, pinning me still with his hips. “You work here
full time
?”

“Does it matter?”

“Answer the question.”

“Never give your work schedule to a stranger. I’m pretty sure that’s stripper handbook rule number one.”

“Emerald...”

“It’s
Raven
.” I suddenly feel annoyed and understand why no one wants their real names said inside these walls. It’s too personal. “Look, you have sixty seconds to say whatever the hell you have to say before I start charging you.”

“Go ahead.” He backs away from me and takes a seat. “But I want my money’s worth,
Raven
.”

Fuck...
He was supposed to say “Okay” and let me out, not insist on a dance.

I’m not prepared to be alone in a room with him and by the way he’s eyeing me right now, I have every reason to feel that way.

“One dance,” I say.

“And if I want more?”

“I’ll go get someone else since you seem to like being here so much. Might as well experience
everyone
, don’t you think?”

“Am I being charged extra for listening to your smartass mouth? Is it possible for you to leave that part out of the package?”

I cross my arms. “
Excuse me
?”

“You’re the one who doesn’t want to talk.” His voice is stern. “I’m waiting...” He leans back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at me.

I walk over to the door and make sure it’s locked. I scroll through the digital keypad that hangs from the wall and press play on the shortest song—a four minute instrumental that I use in practice.

Approaching him, I avoid making eye contact and instead focus on the top button on his shirt. I pull my top over my head and begin my routine as always—tossing my hair and biting my lip, but before I can continue, he leans forward and pulls me into his lap.

I start to slowly grind my hips against him—still avoiding his eyes, concentrating on finishing this routine.

He suddenly grips my hips and holds me still. “
Look at me
.”

I don’t.

He gently presses his fingers against my cheek and turns my head to face him. Staring into my eyes, he runs his hands against my sides, sending shivers up and down my spine.

“Do you let any of your other customers touch you like this?”

I allow a murmur to escape from my mouth as he presses a kiss on my shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a
no
...” He smiles.

“You can take it however you want.” I feel him pulling me even closer. “I’ll say whatever it takes for you to pay me.”

“Are you going to ask me the question today?”

“What?”

“The question...” He lowers his voice and brings his mouth close to mine. “Are you going to ask me
how badly
I want to fuck you?”

I suck in a breath and move my head back. “Give me a few seconds to get in full pretend mode. I need to act like you’re attractive and pretend like I care about your fantasies...” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay. What’s the question you want me to ask you again?”

“Hmmm...” He lifts me out of his lap and stands up. Slipping his arms around my waist, he spins me around so my back is against his front, so I can feel his dick straining against his pants. Then he whispers into my ear, “You’re just
pretending
to want me right now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” He tightens his hold of me.

“Very sure.”

“Well,” he whispers again as his hands move between my thighs, as he brushes a finger against my soaked panties, “you’re a
very good
actress.”

I break out of his grasp and spin around with my hand outstretched. “Thirty dollars.”

Grinning, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hundred dollar bill, gently placing it into my hand. He bends down and plants a light kiss on my forehead before exiting the room, leaving me more confused than ever.

––––––––

I
count my take for the night—eight hundred and twenty dollars, and place a hundred in the hat for the bartenders on my way out.

For some reason, I expect Carter to be around—waiting for me, but he isn’t.

Sighing, I yawn and steer my car onto the backstreets—trying not to think about him but I can’t help it.

Usually, I can read a man within seconds, but with him I’m constantly drawing a blank. He’s persistent, non-consistent, and intriguing all at the same time. I’ve told myself time and time again that the unreadable types are the most dangerous—the ones I’m supposed to stay away from, but if Carter ever touches me like he did tonight, I’m going to let him have me. However he wants.

I’m halfway home when I notice the flashing blue and white lights of a police car. I look at my dashboard—I’m not speeding, and I think all my tags are up to date.

I think.

Shit...

I pull over and turn off my car. Before I can be told to get what I already know I need, I reach into my glove compartment and grab my insurance and registration.

“Ma’am?” The officer taps on my window.

“Yes, officer?”

“Are you aware that your right tail-light is out?”

I shake my head, knowing that it isn’t. “I just had it fixed yesterday.”

“It’s
out
.”

“Okay...” I hand him my paperwork. “I’ll get it re-checked tomorrow.”

He takes my paperwork, looks at it under his flashlight, and quickly hands it back. “I saw you at The Phoenix tonight.” He hesitates, smiling.  “You’re very...
talented
.”

I swallow. “Thank you...”

“You’re not from anywhere around here are you?” He slips his hands into his pockets and leans back on his heels. “I think I would’ve remembered seeing someone like you before.”

Silence.

Part of me wishes that we were closer to the light ahead—where there’s a small diner and a gas station, where someone could see this. The way he’s looking at me is how Leah’s worst sponsors looked at her whenever they picked her up, and it’s making me sick.

“Am I getting a ticket, Officer?” I manage.

“Depends.”

Shaking my head slowly, I try to make sure my voice is as neutral as possible. “Could you please write me the ticket? With all due respect, I need to get home.”

“Where
is
home?”

I don’t answer.

“What’s that?” He places his hands on the edge of my window and leans in close. “
Where is home
?”

“Two counties over...”

“Hmm. Well, seems to me that if you were in such a rush to get there, you would ask how you could do it sooner. Two counties is a hell of a way to drive and I’d hate to hold you up.”

“What do you want?” My voice is a whisper.

“You seem to be a smart girl...” He looks into my eyes. “There’s a motel three miles down and to the left...You figure it out.”

I look in my rearview mirror, wondering if the camera on the inside of his car is taping any of this, but his car isn’t a patrol car. It’s one of the plain white undercover cars I’ve seen in the parking lot from time to time. They’re the cars that are supposed to hold off the customers from exiting the parking lot right after us; the cars that are supposed to
protect
us.

“I’ll follow you there,” he says, not waiting for me to respond.

“No thank you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going home,
Officer
.” I try to sound polite even though I’m pissed. “Surely you don’t want people to know that you’re propositioning
a minor
for sex.”

“You’re not a fucking minor.” He hisses. “Drive to the motel or I’ll arrest you.”

“For
what
?”

He steps away from my window and walks to the back of my car.

I consider immediately driving off, but I hear the shattering of glass and look back. He’s using his baton to shatter my brake-lights, beating the hell out of them.

Shocked, I yell out my window. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Still on the fence about my offer, sweetheart?” he says the words calmly as he puts away his baton and steps closer to me. “I know someone in town who can have your lights fixed by the time we’re done tomorrow morning. Don’t be stupid.”

I grip my hands around the steering wheel, telling myself to keep my mouth shut and speed away to deal with the consequences later, but I know I’m screwed either way.

Fuck it...

“I’m not driving to the hotel,
Officer
,” I say through clenched teeth, “and I would never fuck a disgusting dick-less asshole like you.”

He narrows his eyes at me, nodding, and then he smiles. Lifting the radio from his belt clip, he speaks, “Officer requesting backup for a suspect resisting arrest a few feet north of highway marker thirty one. Suspect is hostile and believed to be...
armed
.”

“On my way.” “Copy.” “Sending two your way.” The voices fire back in seconds.

“Get out of the car,” he says flatly.

I sigh and unbuckle my seatbelt. Avoiding his gaze, I unlock my door and step out.

Before I can shut it back, he grabs me by my waist and pushes me against the car—knocking the wind out of me.

“This could’ve been so easy...” He wedges a knee between my legs. “You strip for money but you’re too good to
fuck
for some?”

He forcefully yanks my hands behind my back and secures the handcuffs around my wrists.

I try to ignore the fact that he squeezes my ass as he leads me towards the backseat of his car, as he tells me how much I’m going to regret not accepting his offer.

I shut my eyes as he locks me inside, as other sirens begin to wail in the distance. 

I already know that this is the end of me having a license. The judge is going to suspend it first thing tomorrow morning and I’ll need to be bailed out of jail. Again.

It’s not my fault this time, but I honestly wish it was...

I
thank Sarah a million times on the way from the county jail to my grandparents’ house. My wrists are still aching from how tight the cuffs were clamped last night, and I know the ugly red imprint will be there for a few days. 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow. I swear.” I look out the window.

“Don’t worry about it. You can ride to work with me on the alternate weekends, but I still have to work at Starbucks during the week.
Routine
, you know?” She sighs. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

I nod, knowing that the real reason she’s still working there is because it keeps her mind off her mother’s death, but I don’t mention it.

“Is your license really suspended?” She quickly changes the subject.

“Sixty days.”

“And your car?”

“Property of the state for now, and I’ll have to
pay
to get it back.”

“How much?”

“You don’t want to know.”

She pulls her car into the driveway. “Are you going to take a few days off? You know, to think about things and chill out for a while? Since it’s morning, you could call Michael and leave a message. Tell him you need time to figure out a new way to get there every day.”