Page 38 of Shamed
My heart kicks up a notch, this time with a flicker of hope. I’m always pushing myself, punishing myself, or forcing the worst upon myself, but being alone in a private room with a horny man is a torture I find the hardest to handle.
It’s coming up again soon—too soon—so this is my chance to get out of it.
The last time I was scheduled, I ended up breaking out into a sweat and then threw up. Fortunately for me, the guy accepted an extended dance from Melody. I’m sure that wasn’t all Melody had to offer to make him happy and not complain, but she wouldn’t tell me anything about it. It only added to the rotting, sludgy guilt consuming me.
“Where is he?” I ask after we step through the door and back toward my nightmare.
“Left of the stage, closer to the back. Black hair. Trust me, you’ll know when you see him.”
We walk into the main area, the busy club making my stomach churn once more.
“Good luck,” Candy singsongs as she shimmies her chest and gets back to work.
I keep my eyes lowered as I move back into the crowd, deciding to scope out the man from afar first, and try to get a read on him before I attempt anything. I scan the area, trying to find the mysterious man she’s talking about.
Then, finally, I see him.
Alone with a drink in his hand, he sits half facing the stage and half the rest of the room, a broody aura surrounding him.
I can’t see his face properly from this angle, but what I can see is a defined jaw that clenches and unclenches every now and then. His broad shoulders and muscular arms are clothed in an army-green, short-sleeved, button-down shirt. I glimpse his tattooed forearms and wavy black hair that curls around his ears and neck. Very attractive.
No wonder the girls have been trying to catch his attention. It’s not often we have patrons who look like him. He stands out like a beautiful beacon who doesn’t belong here.
Instead of approaching him right away, I circle the room, keeping one eye on him as I smile at others and even give another lap dance.
Every glimpse of him through the crowd has me intrigued as to why he’s here. He’s looking at the other girls, but not in the same way the other men are. He’s observing their interactions with everyone, which I find interesting.
Finally working up the courage, I make my way to his side of the stage, my focus solely on him as I approach from behind. I have no idea what to do to try to convince him to accept a dance from me. I’ve never had to convince anyone before, and frankly, I never wanted to.
But he’s my chance to get out of the private room, at least for another six months.
I walk up to the back of his chair with a sway in my hips, even though he can’t see me yet, my palms slightly clammy inside my gloves.
Lifting a hand, I trail my fingers along the edge of his chair, making sure they brush against his shoulders as I slowly move around. “Hi there,” I murmur close to his ear. “I couldn’t help but notice—”
I freeze, my words cut short the second he turns his face toward me, letting me see it properly and up close for the first time.
Those eyes . . . dark like charcoal, expressive and mysterious. Eyes that always reminded me of secrets.
Mase Turner.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mase—EighteenYears Old
Play the part.
Act the fool.
Be the asshole they think you are.
Those are the words circulating my brain anytime I’m with my four closest friends: Jacob, Neil, Jason, and Campbell.
That’s what I’m telling myself as I tease Jacob about Jennifer—a girl from school who he’s liked for a long time—and the fact he’s trying to see her tonight, though he claims otherwise.
“I’m notgoingthere,” he denies after I bring up the party happening nearby. “It’s on the way home. Can’t help passing by it.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum, not looking away from the TV and plastering on a smile. “And are you hoping to maybe run into someone outside the house on your way past, Jacob?”
