StripperwithSpice, page 23
“You? Cool Hand Carlos who could have any woman he wants?”
“That’s the problem. I only want one woman. My job hasn’t been so easy lately either.”
“What happened?”
He dusts remnants of tortilla flour off his hands and shrugs. “I think I’m losing my touch. When I gave a table dance to a lady the other night, she said if I wanted a twenty, I was going to have to do a lot more.”
I laugh but my smile dies at the serious expression on his face. This is his livelihood.
“I hope the trouble between us last week didn’t affect your job.”
He cuts some spring onion for the sour cream garnish. “It’s more than that. To tell you the truth, I think I started getting sick of my job a year ago.”
This is news to me. Barely looking at the frying pan, I turn the vegetables and chicken to keep them from burning. We should have had this conversation on the couch where I could give him my full attention.
He puts down his knife. “It seems like just yesterday I was a rookie, struggling to make a few dollars after tipping out the DJ and stage coordinator for the week. Each call for a strip-o-gram pumped me up so high I could hardly wait to get there.”
I don’t want to interrupt him so I just nod.
“I used to be totally into the stripper lifestyle,” he continues. “Now I’d rather be alone with you spending a quiet evening like this. I used to yearn to please every woman I met. Now I just want to please you.”
“I hope I’m not responsible for wrecking your career,” I say in a small voice.
He touches my forearms. “Don’t say that. I think I need you because I’ve changed, not the other way around. Five years ago, I can’t see us being this close.”
When he drops his hands, he probably leaves remnants of flour on the cashmere sweater I bought on sale to celebrate my promotion, but I don’t mind. Luckily the vegetables and chicken are done frying.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
He takes the tortillas out of the oven and transfers them to the warmer. “I guess I need to figure out a new career sooner than I thought.”
We sit at the kitchen table and busy ourselves assembling our fajitas, spooning steaming chicken and vegetables onto the tortillas, sprinkling them with cheese and garnish and rolling them up. Then we eat in silence for a while, savoring the food and chewing on our heavy thoughts.
Carlos spoons some homemade salsa I happened to whip up yesterday onto his plate and stares at it. “I want what my brother has—the wife, the kids, the whole nine yards.”
I set down my fork. I want that too, but I need financial security more. I’m not sure the two would mix, especially with Carlos. What if we married? What if I give up my career and he can’t find a new one? How would we provide for any kids we might have?
He looks at me for my reaction, pinning me with dark, solemn eyes I have to look away from.
“You’re talking about a lot of responsibility,” I say quietly.
“I think you’re married to your career and always will be, Janice.”
My fingers twist in the napkin on my lap. “I’m not going to give it up for something less secure.”
“I promised you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”
It’s a good thing we had sex already because I sense another disagreement coming on.
I reach across the table for his hand. “I know you have the best of intentions, but you just admitted how uncertain your future is. How could you take care of me if you couldn’t even take care of yourself? And if we had children…”
His skin grows cold under my touch. “Uncertain doesn’t mean doomed. Have a little faith in me.”
“Can’t we just see how things go for a while?” I ask, releasing his hand.
Am I insane? This gorgeous, caring man has done everything but propose to me and I’m practically throwing him away.
He nods. “Just tell me one thing. How long do you think you can handle your career before it destroys you?”
Irritation prickles across my arms. “Don’t be silly. It’s not going to destroy me and the extra money helps me sleep at night.”
But just thinking about all the expectations, pressure and being “on” all the time twists my stomach into a knot. Tiffin’s hostility doesn’t help either. Damn him for shoving all my doubts in my face.
“I know you, Janice. It will, in time. Mentally, emotionally, physically or all three. I don’t want to see that happen.”
I cross my arms. “What am I supposed to do? Quit my job and be your barefoot housewife?”
He grins. “How about naked and barefoot? Seriously, I want you to do what you love. Find your calling.”
“And where am I supposed to find that?” I ask, spreading my hands on the table.
He pulls a tortilla out of the warmer and lays it on the tops of my hands. “I think you already found it.”
“Cooking?”
“Think about it. I wish mine were as easy to figure out.”
Cooking? No, it’s too crazy. I’m too old to throw away an established career for a brand new one. But I have to admit, this kitchen table looks a lot better covered with fajitas than file folders and a laptop. The irony of “working” overtime in my kitchen hits me. Is Carlos right? Have I really been doing the wrong thing in the right room?
Chapter Sixteen
Next Thursday night, I’m at the Stallion Palace in my “club” outfit at Carlos’ insistence. He told me he needs to have me nearby to give him energy to boost his performance. To think I used to worry he’d leave me any minute. I don’t even require Zena’s support tonight.
The serious conversation from Sunday evening has been hanging in my mind all week. Carlos and I are both going through changes so big they might tear us apart in the end. If he’s really ready to settle down, he deserves to do it, even if it’s not with me.
All the same, I went to the doctor yesterday to begin a birth-control regimen. I haven’t told him about it yet, but I wanted to lay this stone on our path of commitment.
His dancing never fails to mesmerize me and he exudes extra magnetism tonight on stage as Cool Hand Carlos. I sit in front and he catches my eye a few times. For his solo act, he does the rich-man routine again.
After bringing a few women onstage, it’s my turn. While he lies down, thrusting his pelvis, I lick champagne from his chest. To enhance the act, I pretend I’m a club virgin, swooning on my heels and clapping in delight.
While he gives lap dances, I’m proud to say I barely wince. He’s made it more than clear I’m his only woman and I finally believe him with all my heart. Occasionally his face resembles a mask, polite but bored. Maybe he is losing his touch. I drum my fingers on the table, waiting for some backstage time with him.
After the dances are over, the announcer struts on stage. “Pack your bags, ladies, because the stallions are going on a road trip to Paradise Island in the Bahamas!”
The room fills with cheers, stinging my ears. The Bahamas? Surely I couldn’t have heard right.
As soon as I go behind the curtain, Carlos lifts me off my feet and spins me around. His grin is so wide I can barely see the rest of his face.
“You’re going to the Bahamas?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He puts me down and takes my hands. “I just found out about it. The money will be good and I’m going to invest it in my future…our future.”
Suddenly I remember the football party at his house when we discussed road trips as a bridge we might cross someday. Well, here’s the bridge. Back then all I could picture was the guys in a shared hotel room having a group orgy with a bunch of young bimbos. Now I know better. Don’t I?
Since the night at the gym, he’s been completely open about his social life. In the context of our daily routine, I trust him not to cheat on me. The Bahamas are so far away, though, and he’ll probably be exposed to more temptation there. How do people with spouses in the military handle it?
Trust. Even though mine has already been stretched to the limit, it will have to grow even more to keep up with this relationship. I suppose if loving Carlos were too easy, it wouldn’t be worth as much.
His face grows serious. “Come with me. We’re flying down on Sunday and doing three nights of shows. I’m going to launch my new routine.”
I shake my head. “I just got promoted. I can’t run off to the Bahamas right now.”
“Janice, I need you. Please come. Tell them one of your relatives died or something.”
Uneasiness prickles across my forehead. “I can’t lie to them. If I’m found out, I could get fired.”
“Then tell them the truth.”
I cross my arms. “Yeah, right. I’ll tell them I’m attending a stripper road show. Can’t you skip this one?”
He shakes his head. “I need the money and I need you. My career is in trouble. Your energy will keep me going while I find a new one.”
Damn him for taking my life and turning it upside down. I touch his shoulder.
“Let me think about it.”
He nods and kisses me. “The club will pay for an extra room. I have to know tomorrow morning so I can make the arrangements.”
The time has come. I have to choose.
* * * * *
At work the next morning, I take a seat in the conference room for the Friday staff meeting. Earlier I emailed my boss to request some days off next week to care for a sick relative. Although she approved it in her reply, I’m not looking forward to seeing her face-to-face. To fortify myself, I grab a sugary donut from the box and gulp it down. It’s better than staring at the reflection of my tense face in the conference table’s glass overlay.
“Are there any other announcements?” Harriet asks toward the end of the meeting.
Pens tapping against the table broadcast everyone’s eagerness to get the meeting over with.
“We just got our first assignment from that new client,” Dave says. “A quick turnaround is essential.”
“I agree,” Harriet replies. “Unfortunately Janice will be out Monday through Wednesday.”
I drink some coffee for more strength. “My aunt is having surgery and I need to help her afterward.”
“Oh, that’s too bad and bad timing too,” Dave exclaims. “Will you have to travel?”
My nails dig holes into my palms. “Y-yes. The Bahamas.”
Should I name a specific island? No, not unless they ask. My gaze drifts from the suburban landscape through the window to the large paintings of modern art. I guess everyone has lied at one point or another, but I’ve never told such a whopper. What if I lose my job over it?
“Dave, I’ll get a jump start on that project today,” I promise. “Once I specify the reporting structure, it will just be a matter of plugging in the data.”
“That will be a big help,” he replies.
Tiffin arches a skeptical brow. “Wait a minute. I thought you didn’t have any family, Janice.”
Harriet shoots her a stern look for speaking out of turn. Meanwhile, I suppress a groan of dismay, remembering a recent conversation in the break room about the upcoming holidays. Why did I have to mention I had no real family?
“We’re distant, but I feel I should go.”
People’s eyes shift a bit as they stare at the conference table. Most of them are probably wondering if I’m lying. Who has aunts living in the Bahamas? Nobody. Why couldn’t the road show go someplace believable instead like Minnesota?
Promising to take my laptop and remain in contact, I finally sag in relief as the meeting ends.
After the meeting, I retreat to my small but cozy office, admiring the simple whiteboard, a picture of a ship the last person left on the wall and even my jacket hanging on a hook. Everyone accepted the lie and I’ll never do it again. For good measure, I spin around in my high-backed executive chair.
I’m safe.
Without bothering to knock first, Tiffin comes in and plops down in one of the guest chairs with a big grin on her face. Uh-oh. This can’t be good. I thought she’d be sullen about taking up the slack while I’m gone, not elated.
She makes a big production out of slapping her folder on my wide desk and opening it in front of me.
My stomach lurches into my throat when I see a printout page of me licking Carlos’ chest.
Oh, my freaking God. She was at the club last night…with a camera. Why hadn’t I made a point to see if she was there? I shouldn’t even have gone. If only I’d had a better choice of job offers when taking this job. I was so desperate to work I’d signed that stupid agreement without realizing how it might curtail my personal activities. Of course, back then I practically lived the life of a nun, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal.
“Who else have you shown this to?” I croak while my fingers and toes sting with shock.
“Just you…so far.” Her grin widens. “Are you sure about that trip to the Bahamas? I mean, will you really have time to help your aunt with the male revue going on?”
“You wouldn’t,” I hiss.
But I know she would. She’s wanted me gone since the day she met me.
When I grab the page and rip it up, she just laughs.
“I have a digital copy, of course,” she says.
“Of course you do,” I mutter. “You realize taking the picture also places you at the Stallion Palace.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I’ll just say I got it off Facebook.”
Muffled conversation filters in from next door. I can’t decipher the words, but I bet they aren’t half as shocking as the ones flying around in here.
“Tiffin, look. I’ll work twice as hard when I come back.”
“Will you now?”
Maybe I could cut the trip short too. What am I doing, trying to negotiate with a blackmailer? Think, Janice. There must be some way to reason with this little twit. I clasp my hands on the desk to keep them from shaking.
“It’s in your best interest to stay on my good side, Tiffin. As I climb the ladder I can either take you with me or leave you behind.”
But it’s no use. She smells blood and she’s going to go for the kill.
She glances at her polished nails. “Now why would I go to all that trouble when I can have your job right now?”
I’ve reread the agreement so many times since dating Carlos, I’ve almost memorized it.
“Hold on,” I say, glaring at her. “I’m sure blackmail is not acceptable conduct either. Do you really want to risk your job?”
She hesitates for only a second. “That’s a chance I’ll take.”
Something inside me snaps. After years of fighting the corporate battles and living in fear of losing my livelihood, I’m sick of it. Maybe all the nonsense Carlos has been filling my head with lately has finally transformed some of my brain cells.
“Well, Tiffin, if you want to live your life as a cutthroat shark, you’re off to a great start, but you won’t succeed that way in the end. Every nasty thing you do will come back to bite you.”
She just blinks at me. “So you’re still going?”
“I’m going to work all weekend and cut the trip short but, yes, I’m still going.”
“Then I’ll send the picture to Harriet and the CEO too.”
I stand up. “Knock yourself out.”
As soon as she leaves, I close the door and put my head on my desk. Am I out of my mind? Am I really going to risk my job over a man? Groping for my personal phone, I dash out a brief message to Carlos.
So sorry. Can’t get away from work. Dance for me though. Love you, Janice
Then I email Tiffin from my computer. You win. I’m staying.
* * * * *
On Monday evening, I step out of the airport at Nassau on New Providence Island of the Bahamas and board the shuttle to Paradise Island where Carlos will perform. I frown at my watch as I take a bite out of the sloppy chicken salad sandwich that will be tonight’s dinner. The flight was delayed so I barely have enough time to check into my hotel room and change before the show.
Go. Stay. No, go. No, stay. I must have changed my mind a hundred times today. People at the office acted surprised to see me at work today and Tiffin stared daggers at me. I plan to watch the show tonight, fly back tomorrow morning and work in the afternoon.
It’s the best compromise I could come up with.
I stare at the palm trees passing by with wistful regret. It’s hardly the three-day vacation Carlos envisioned but at least I’m here to give him moral support. Someday we’ll take a real vacation together where neither of us has to work.
He has no idea I’m coming. I didn’t want to disappoint him in case I changed my mind again so I decided to just show up. Luckily the club posted the show schedule and all the details I needed on its website.
I hope Carlos enjoys the surprise. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he finds out I’m here. His spontaneity has definitely rubbed off on me. Not only am I comfortable with it, I think I even like it.
When I arrive at the waterfront hotel, I consider asking what room he’s in, but I don’t want him to see me looking so bedraggled from traveling. I’ll just catch up with him after the show.
Walking outside in the balmy air from the bus to the hotel infuses my fatigue with romance. The cadences of native accents and tropical birds remind me to slow down and relax.
I’ve done the right thing coming here. Our relationship has continually grown. It’s hard to believe that first two hours in his hotel room at the romance convention. All I could handle then was a one-night stand. Now we love each other and he wants a future with me.
When I step into the lobby, the potted palms remind me of the décor of Crave-a-thon where I first fell for him. It’s as if I’m reliving the growth of our relationship. The sensuous coconut scent of sunscreen makes my core ache to be filled. I hope he has condoms with him because my birth control hasn’t kicked in yet and I need him.
I need him under a tree and in the sand with the ocean breeze blowing through our hair. The moment I’ll feel his lips on mine is so close I can almost taste it.
* * * * *
An hour later, I’m seated near the back of a large atrium studded with palm trees. I miss my front row seat at the Stallion Palace, but it serves me right for not making concrete plans, I suppose.
