Page 85 of Off Limits
‘Back by popular demand,’ Jax says. ‘You folks can’t get enough. Our favorite red dirt country gal… Texas’ finest, give it up forBraaaaandy Velvet!’
There’s more cheering. I’m thankful for the low light tonight.Cowgirlsby Morgan Wallen comes over the sound system. It’s a slower tempo than my usual routines. I know the moves by heart because I’ve danced them a hundred times before. Within the first minute, I’m writhing on my hands and knees on stage. Soon, I toss my jacket and hat. So far, so normal. Except my heart is beating so fast I can’t think straight, and for every guy who whistles at me, I have to search his face to check if he’s Jake. As I make my way to the pole at the end of the stage, my eyes flit out to the crowd, my hips gyrating, sliding my palms down my thighs to more whistles. I go down to a squat position, hands on my knees spread wide, and once more, and my eyes sweep further back in the shadows, checking the tables, trying to glimpse the faces.
I perform on the pole, sliding it between my legs, hooking the back of my leg around it and leaning back until I’m as far back as I can go. Already there’re guys waving dollar bills in my direction. I grab the buckle and remove my belt, but I take every opportunity I can to scour the spectators, even upside down.
The moment I slither out of my denim bra and let it drop to the stage floor is when I see him. Holed up and alone in a corner beside a table, cap pulled low on his forehead. I recognize the logo, and he’s wearing the same pair of beige-colored pants he was wearing at the cabin.
I feel like I wanna puke. Yet the dancer inside me has this weird notion that I want to impress him, and that, hell, if Jake Walsh knows I’m a stripper, he might as well know I’m not half bad at it.
I continue to dance. The volume of the catcalls raises a notch. With my arms behind my head, I grab the pole, pressing my butt into it as I slide all the way down, my breasts thrust forward and fully on display. It’s a move that the regulars all love, and how I make the best tips.
It’s also a move that has Jake Walsh getting to his feet and heading for the door.
As I watch him go, my body instinctively grinds to a halt. The music keeps playing. After a beat, when I let go of the pole, watching the door, the catcalls are replaced by jeers. The protests grow in volume as I lean down and grab my top, then turn and run from the stage.
Without looking back, I burst out the back door into the parking lot. I glance left and right and see the back of him heading for his pickup. I’m holding my bra top to my breasts but the back ain’t yet fastened.
‘Jake, wait!’ I call out, running toward him. The rain’s coming down now. ‘Jake, please, wait up!’
He turns and I almost crash into his chest.
I look up at him, eyes pleading but I realize he won’t return my gaze. Under the streetlights, I can see that his jaw is set in a fixed line. The cap is pulled down so low that I can’t properly see his face.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, and my voice breaks. ‘You wanted to know. Now you know.’
I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down just once. His hands go into his pockets.
Behind me, I hear the shriek of the door hinges. Talia comes racing outside. The rain drips down my face as I wait for Jake to respond. When Talia reaches me, she throws a coat around my shoulders.
‘Ren! Are you crazy? What the hell you doin’ out here? You can’t race from the stage like that in the middle of your routine!’
She wraps me in the coat, and I pull it round me, still pressing my top to my chest. My eyes don’t leave Jake’s face.
‘I need a minute,’ I tell her.
‘Sweetie, you don’t got a minute. Jax is gonna be out here any second. You need to get back inside.’
‘Please, say something,’ I say to him.
The door sounds again. Jax comes out, flanked by Hurley.
‘Serenity, what the fuck?!’ he hollers angrily at me at the top of his voice.
Jake looks up at him, takes a step back. I’m crying now, my tears mixing with the rainwater. I want him to say something. Anything. But his expression remains impassive.
‘Serenity Harper, get the fuck back inside,now,’ Jax says when he reaches me.
‘Please, just one minute!’ I beg.
‘Move. Now,’ he warns me. ‘Hurley, get this motherfucker out of here.’
Hurley steps forward. Jake reacts fast. He throws up his hands and backs away. I feel Jax’s hands grip my shoulders, turning me back round to walk back toward the club.
When I glance over my shoulder, Jake is walking toward his pickup.
‘Boss’ll see you now,’ Jax says soberly to me on his way out at the end of the night. ‘Night, Ren.’
‘Goodnight, Jax.’
