Ten Tiny Breaths (7 page)

To keep all of them out.

Ninety-nine percent of me knows I need to
keep him at arm’s length. There’s no point considering him. He’ll
get one look at my shit and he’ll run, leaving a bigger mess
behind. And yet, as I eye the washer where he just stood, where his
bed sheets swirl, I give serious consideration to stealing them and
leaving a “come and get it” note in its place.
No.
I shove
angry hands through my thick mane, gripping the back of my head as
if to keep it from exploding. I need to stay away from him. He’s
going to ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to put in place.

Suddenly, I can’t get out of that laundromat
fast enough.

***

Mia and Livie sit cross-legged on the living
room floor with a
Chutes and Ladders
board game between
them. A freshly showered Storm dumps a pot of spaghetti noodles
into a pot of boiling water. “I hope you don’t mind veal in your
sauce,” she says as I step in without knocking. I figure we’re past
the knocking stage. I just touched her thongs, after all.

“That’d be great. Your clothes are all
here.”

She looks over her shoulder at the hamper and
shock twists her face. “Did you fold my underwear for me?”

“Uh ... No?”

Turning a bit more to see my face, still
drenched from the tap water, she frowns. “What happened to
you?”

How do I explain I had to have a mini-cold
shower in the laundromat because that damn smooth-talking neighbor
of ours cornered me? I don’t.

“It was Stephen King’s
Maximum
Overdrive
all over again. The washing machine came to life and
attacked me. Laundry and I are officially on no-speaking
terms.”

“I’ve never read that book,” Storm says at
the same time that I hear a tiny frightful gasp.

“I’m not surprised,” I mumble as I head
toward the kitchen, catching a scathing glare from Livie for
scaring Mia. Our dad made us watch all the movies from his era as a
way of keeping the classics alive. Most of the time, no one in my
generation has a clue what I’m talking about.

Storm turns to face me wearing an apron that
reads,
How’s the sauce? Has anyone seen my Band-Aid?
and a
big grin. “Hey, so I spoke to my boss. Job’s yours if you want
it.”

“Storm!” My eyes bug out.

Her long blond locks sway as she tips her
head back to laugh, my surprise apparently amusing. I can tell
she’s happy to give me the news. I get the impression that she
genuinely
wants
to help us and for no reason other than
because she’s just that nice.

“I haven’t decided yet.”
Liar, yes you
have
. Good money is good money and as long as I don’t have to
strip, I can handle standing in the middle of a vagina circus.

“What job is this?” Livie pipes up, her
curiosity peaked.

“A job with me, where I work,” Storm
explains.

“My mommy gets paid to give people drinks, in
a restaurant. Like this!” Mia scrambles to her feet and runs over
to grab an empty cup from the counter. “Would you like a glass of
lemonade, Madam?” She carries it to Livie with the utmost care and
bows.

“Why, thank you, kind waitress,” Livie gushes
theatrically and proceeds to gulp back the imaginary drink like
she’s just crossed the Sahara desert, finishing with a wink for
Mia. But, when she turns to me, her brow is furrowed with unease.
“Serving more than lemonade, I take it?”

I nod, dropping my focus to re-arrange the
cutlery on the table before I can meet her worried gaze again. Her
bottom lip is sucked into her mouth. She’s trying hard to stop it
from quivering and I know what she’s thinking. She’s afraid I’ll
spiral back into that dark place where the tequila is flowing and
the one-night-stands are frequent. Even though I’ve promised her a
hundred times that that phase is over, she’s still terrified of
losing me to it again. I can’t blame her.

That’s why I’m surprised by her next words.
“You should take it, Kacey.”

My head cocks to the side as I regard
her.

She shrugs. “If you’re serving them, you can
cut them off, right?”

“Right.” I nod slowly, processing that logic.
Livie always finds the good in things. I steal a glance at Storm to
see her intently focused on stirring her tomato sauce. I know she
must have heard that. She’s got to be wondering what dark skeletons
these two neighbors of hers have in their closet. As usual, she has
the decency not to pry.

“And there’s good money in tips from what I
hear,” Livie adds. “Maybe I can get fake ID and get a job there
too!”

“No!” Storm and I shout in unison and share a
silent look. A look that says this is good enough for us, but not
for Livie. She’s too good for this world.

“Mommy? Are you working tonight?” Mia’s tiny
voice chirps up, delaying more of Livie’s questions.

Storm smiles sadly at her daughter. “Yes,
honey bear.” It has to be hard, leaving her six nights in a
row.

“Can I stay with Livie? Please, Mommy?” Mia
holds her hands together in front of her as if she’s praying.

“Oh, I don’t know. Mia. I think you’ve
monopolized enough of Livie’s time today, don’t you think?”

“But, noooo … Mommy!’ Mia whines and stomps
around the room in a circle, reminding everyone that she
is
only five years old. She stops in a huff, throwing her arms around
herself, and scowls. “I don’t like Mrs. Potterage!”

“She’s a nice lady, Mia,” Storm says with a
sigh, like she’s said it a hundred times before. To me she leans in
and whispers, “I don’t blame the poor kid. Potterage smokes like a
burning oil field. But I can usually rely on her for at least four
nights a week.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Livie jumps in with a
pat on Mia’s back.

“See Mommy? Livie says, yes!”

Storm cringes. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. In fact, I’m more than happy to
watch her every night if you want,” Livie offers with complete
seriousness.

“Oh, Livie. I work six days a week. That’s a
lot to ask of a fifteen year old. You deserve to go out and party
or, whatever fifteen year olds are doing these days.”

Livie’s already shaking her head. “No it’s
not and I don’t mind.” She pinches Mia’s cheek, as taken by the
child as Mia is of her. “I’d love it.”

There’s a long pause and Storm swallows,
considering it. “You’d have to let me pay you for your time. No
more arguing.”

Livie’s hand waves dismissively. “Yeah, fine.
Whatever. She’ll be asleep most of the time anyway and Kacey will
be at work with you, right? So at least I won’t be alone.”

All three turn to look at me hopefully.

I heave a loud sigh. “Just drinks, right? I’m
not serving anyone … anything else.”

Storm’s irises twinkle. “Not unless you want
to.”

“And I don’t have to wear anything
revealing?”

“Well …”

My head drops back and rolls from one side to
the other. “Here we go.”

“I was just going to say that you’ll make
more money showing a bit of cleavage than you will dressed as a
Mormon. A lot more money. I’d show a teensy tiny bit of skin, if I
were you.”

I sigh again. “And I can quit if I don’t like
it? No hard feelings?”

“Absolutely, Kacey. No hard feelings,” Storm
asserts, holding a wooden spoon in front of her face as if she’s
pledging.

A long pause, just enough to make Storm
squirm. “Okay.”

“Great!” Storm throws her toned arms around
me, oblivious that the contact is making my insides churn and the
voice in my head scream. She breaks away just as quickly and moves
back to her pot of sauce, allowing me a chance to exhale. “You
start tonight, by the way.”

“Tonight. Fun.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from
my voice as butterflies start their mad dash around my belly,
killing my appetite. I hug my arms tight to my body, acknowledging
that a club’s worth of new people means handshakes and questions
about personal shit that are none of anyone’s business. I’m not
ready for this. I haven’t prepared …
One … two… three …
four…
By the time I reach ten, I’m freaking out.

We pull up to
Penny’s Palace
in Storm’s Jeep
just as the sun is dropping over the horizon. Storm doesn’t even
have the thing in park before I jump out. When she walks around to
meet me on my side, it’s with a look I’m long since used to—a
mixture of surprise and concern. She doesn’t comment though.

She does comment on me tugging at the short
black skirt I borrowed from her. “Stop fidgeting.” She swats my
hand away. “I never would have taken you for the nervous type.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re ass isn’t
hanging out. I can’t believe I agreed to wear this Band-Aid. I’m
going to bend over and show everyone my girl bits.”

Storm laughs. “Of course you should wear that
Band-Aid. It shows those awesome legs of yours off.”

“It’s showing more than my legs,” I mutter,
giving it another tug to cover the bottom of my tattoo. I’m not
ashamed of that. I just don’t want to draw more attention to myself
than necessary.

“Good Lord! For such a tough act, you really
are a big sissy girl, aren’t you?”

She’s right. I guess I’m just out of my
element here and it’s causing me to second-guess everything. If
this were the gym, I’d have no problem in tiny shorts that hug my
ass. But this isn’t the gym and I’m not allowed to kick the crap
out of anything here.

I cock my head to the side as I take in
Storm. “Did you just call me a sissy girl?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Did you just say
‘girl bits’? This is an adult club, not a day care.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” I chuckle as we
approach the solid black metal door with a tiny peep hole in
it.

“You look great, Kacey. Seriously.” I try not
to flinch as she pats my shoulder.

Secretly, I have to admit that I do. Aside
from the mini skirt, I’m also wearing a charcoal striped halter top
and several silver jewelry pieces, courtesy of Storm’s collection.
She also helped me with my hair and make-up. I look more than
decent. Not a knock out standing next to Storm with her turquoise
dress and tanned skin and Barbie doll curves, but decent all the
same. Decent enough that I caught myself swaggering extra slow past
1D on my way out, hoping to catch Trent’s face in the window. Then
I realized what I was doing, and I ran the rest of the way to
Storm’s Jeep, the voice inside my head scolding the snot out of me
the entire way.

Storm raps against the heavy door four times.
It flies open and my insides flip. Not many people intimidate me
anymore. The giant man with dark skin and bulging muscles who fills
the doorway, as wide as he is tall, though … I don’t care that I’m
cowering. By the look of him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s never
smiled a day in his life. He’s certainly never been a cute baby.
I’m sure he simply materialized out of nothingness into the beast
standing before me.

“This is Nate. He’s the head bouncer and
Cain’s right hand man. Hey Nate! This is my friend, Kacey.” Storm
doesn’t wait for him to respond. She simply pushes past him, her
hand giving his solid abdomen a soft punch on the way in.

“Hi,” he says. The tiny word rumbles deep
inside me, his voice like thunder and I nod, temporarily mute.

He steps back to give me more space. “Come
in, please.”

Forcing bravado that I don’t feel, I jack my
chin up and step inside. Storm leads me down a narrow hallway lined
with liquor cases and silver kegs, smelling faintly of beer yeast.
Dark memories rise with the scent. Memories of clubs and tequila
shots off guys’ abdomens and white powder lines on tables in dark
corners. I quickly cram them back where they belong. In the
past.

“Here are the dressing rooms for the dancers
…” Storm’s index finger points to two closed doors. “I wouldn’t go
in there unless you want to see all kinds of ‘girl bits.’” With a
teasing laugh, she continues.

We pass by a broad-shouldered, towering blond
guy in a tight black t-shirt and black pants. Definitely another
bouncer by his outfit but not as ominous-looking at Nate. He’s cute
in that “I’m from Wisconsin and I play football” kind of way. He
reminds me of Billy …

“Kacey, this is Ben,” Storm introduces
us.

“Hey, Kacey,” he grins and then his head
cocks as if he suddenly recognizes me. “Hey, weren’t you at The
Breaking Point the other day?”

I look him over. I don’t remember him, but,
then again, I don’t pay any heed to the guys there. “Maybe. I just
joined.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, that was definitely
you.” His eyes do a full shameless intake of my body. “You’re
incredible. Do you compete?”

I brush off the compliment. “Nah, it’s just
for fun.” The truth is I’d love to complete, but it’s too dangerous
for me, given my injuries. One hit to the wrong place will cause
serious damage to all the work those surgeons did years ago to put
me back together. I’m not about to tell Ben any of that though.

“First night at Penny’s?” he asks, leaning
one forearm against a door frame.

“Yeah.”

A lusty gaze wanders over my frame again.

“Bartending
only
,” I add, crossing my
arms over my chest, emphasizing the ‘only.’

His attention skates back up to my face and
he smirks. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

“And you’ll hear it again from me every time
you ask,” I throw back coolly. What a pompous ass. He needs a good
kick to the head to wipe that smirk off his mouth. Maybe I’ll ask
him to spar next time I’m at the gym.

Storm ushers me forward past him, hollering
over her shoulder, “See ya later, Ben.” She knocks on a door with a
sign that reads
Bossman
. There’s a caricature of a naked
woman sitting spread eagle and a pair of black lace thong underwear
tacked on beside.
How fitting.