Page 68 of Shamed
It’s when she’s this close, staring up at me, that I smell the alcohol on her breath.
But it’s not only that, not when the light from a nearby lamppost illuminates her eyes: wide and glassy, pupils swallowing all the gray.
“Jesus, are you high?”
Jayne tries to pull away from me. “It was just a tiny pill. Don’t you judge me.” She pauses, brows furrowing. “Or wait . . .dojudge me. Sometimes it gets all mixed up.” A self-deprecating laugh slips out, followed by the twist of her lips. “I’mgoing to walk myself home.” She turns, her intention clear but steps crooked.
Does she honestly think I would let her walk home by herself in this condition?
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
I catch up to her in a few steps, gripping her forearm and pulling her to the side when it looks like she’s going to step into an open crack in the ground would have her toppling over in this condition. The hiss that scrapes through her teeth has me releasing her quickly.
Jesus, that’s the second time I’ve grabbed her without thinking. “Sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be.” She says it matter-of-factly, a blank smile on her face, but almost a decade of pain radiating from her.
We start walking again, and I gesture for her to cross the street, making sure she takes the step at the gutter and watching her every move as we go. “Is this something you normally do? Take pills, I mean.” She hasn’t appeared high any other time I’ve seen her these past few weeks.
“No. I don’t even like to drink, either.”
Hm, so she doesn’t drink or take pills, yet she’s done both tonight. Maybe shehasheard about Jacob’s upcoming release and isn’t taking it well.
“Want to tell me what happened, then?”
A small chuckle. “Oh, if you only knew, Mase.” Jayne slowly comes to a stop, standing in the middle of the street, then tips her head back, arms wide. “Have you ever had one of those dreams where you’re flying?”
“Sure,” I answer, stopping beside her and burying my hands into my pockets, concern creasing my brow. “I think everybody has.”
She hums. “That’s how I feel right now. Light and carefree. Like I don’t ever want to land . . . but I know I have to.”
It happens quickly, a blink, a breath, and then she’s tipping backwards without making any effort to stop her fall. Thankfully, I’m close enough to jump into action and catch her under her arms at the last second, before she connects with the asphalt.
“Shit. What are you doing?”
A delirious laugh spills from her as she peers up at me, still in my hold. “Landing.”
I shake my head. “What the fuck happened to you tonight?”
“Tonight.” She blinks. “Tonight was my turn in the room.”
A chill sneaks up my spine at those ominous words. “What do you mean, your turn in the room? What room?”
“The private dance rooms.”
Understanding dawns on me as I lift her to her feet, my hands braced on her hips to make sure she won’t tip over again. “And you didn’t want to be in there?” She shakes her headslowly. “So, you what, took something and drank as a way to cope?” She nods, and I huff an exhale. “Can’t you tell your boss you don’t want to do it?”
She closes her eyes, half leaning into me. “Chester says it’s a requirement that we all must do. It keeps the clients happy and his pockets lined. I just . . . couldn’t do it without help.”
I feel the scrape of my molars as my jaw muscles tense and shift. I knew that motherfucker seemed shady.
Jayne wanting to dance is one thing, but for someone like her, being forced to work in an enclosed room and perform a sexually enticing dance to a stranger would be distressing.
I understand enough about women who have suffered like she has to know this.
“Why do you work there?” I ask softly.
A weary sigh fills the night, but she doesn’t answer; she just leans into my hold for several long beats.
