At one point, she broke our lip-lock and smiled. “You’re good at this,” she said before wrapping her legs around my hips and kissing me again.
“So are you,” I murmured against her lips, my arousal growing by the second.
She pulled back again, and for a second, I got worried that she was about to call me out, but her smile brightened. “Am I really? It’s not awkward?”
I shook my head. There was nothing awkward about it. Well, except for the fact that I just got a boner over kissing my best friend. “It’s just a kiss, Violet. Want to do it again?”
She nodded. “Yes. This is fun.”
I smiled back before finding her lips again. I hadn’t minded helping Violet learn how to kiss. She was right. It was fun. At least… until she started kissing other people.
With a growl, I shake away the memories and head toward the ferry terminal. When I get there, I spend far too long debating the direction I want to take. Westbound would take me back to Friday Harbor. Eastbound would take me home.
In the end, I head toward Seattle because, really, it doesn’t matter which direction I choose. Violet Hart’s image and attached memories will follow me wherever I go.
Chapter Five
VIOLET
“C’mon, Trevor, pick up the phone.”
My words hiss into the receiver like there’s any chance my ex will answer my call. Clearly he won’t. Brayden and I have been sitting in the driveway of his house for over an hour, and now I’m late for work. Thanks a lot, Trevor.
A call comes through my car’s speakers, and I answer it. “Hey, Malik. I’m on my way, I promise.” I throw a desperate look at Brayden. I’m stressed, but I don’t want him to think it has anything to do with him. It has to do with his asshole of a father who clearly doesn’t respect my schedule. “I’m just having some transportation issues.”
“God dammit, Vio—”
I push the button to take Malik off speaker so fast all I can do is pray that Brayden didn’t catch wind of my boss’s anger. “I said I’m on my way,” I hiss into the phone before hanging up.
With a sigh, I turn to face Brayden, who’s got his eyes aimed out the window. Anyone else would look at him and decide that he’s bored, like every other young boy would be in a situation like this. But I know better. Brayden is hurt and masking it. It doesn’t matter what I say. This is one more disappointment in a growing list.
“Bray, I’m going to get in big trouble from my boss if I don’t go to work. I’m going to take you to the studio, okay?”
Brayden’s lit-up eyes and smile find me. “I get to watch you dance?”
My smile can’t be helped, not when my son shows enthusiasm for what brings me joy. “Not today, love. I have to run over to my other job for the night, but you can’t go there.” I swallow, hating the twisted versions of the truth I have to tell my son. “It’s too noisy at the restaurant.”
He makes a face. “I don’t care. I like noise.”
I laugh because he’s not lying. My son loves loud music and loud talking. It’s hilarious to watch him play on his tablet when he’s at the apartment. “Well, kids aren’t allowed at this restaurant. It’s adults only.”
Brayden slumps back into his seat, breaking my heart. “Oh. Okay.”
Trevor used to joke that Brayden had caught on quickly about how to manipulate my feelings and torture me, but I have always known that our son is smart. He knows when I’m not telling the whole truth, but how could I? His mom is a dancer who takes off her clothes for strangers.
“I’m not ashamed of what I do.”
“Then why the secrecy?”
My conversation with Jamison plays out in my mind as guilt pelts at my heart. I’m not ashamed that I have to work three jobs to make ends meet. I’m not ashamed that I dance, even if the wardrobe is minimal. I’m not ashamed that I work at a hole-in-the-wall bar where I make more in tips than I do in hourly pay. None of that is anything to be ashamed of, but Brayden wouldn’t understand any of it. Secrets are necessary.
After dropping Brayden off with Andrew at the studio, I rush to work, where Malik is glaring at me from behind the bar. I unzip my hoodie, revealing my midnight-blue bra with a fishnet top over it then slip off my leggings so that I’m in just a pair of black spandex shorts.
It’s busier than normal for a Thursday night, which is probably the reason for Malik’s anger.
“Save the lecture,” I say, avoiding eye contact when I meet him behind the bar. “Trevor was a no-show, and I couldn’t bring Brayden here. My tardiness couldn’t be helped.”
I can feel the steam rising from his heated body. Malik has done a lot for me this past year—hiring me on without any experience and supplying the necessary training and certifications. I don’t want to be trouble for him.
“I know your situation, Vi, but if you can’t swing the hours, then I’ll need to find someone who can. Not trying to come down hard on you. I get your situation, but if you need more flexibility, then you can start dancing next door instead.”
He heads back over to the club while I run around the room to catch up where he left off. It’s not until halfway through my shift that I’m able to check my phone and see Trevor’s angry messages.
Trevor: You couldn’t have waited ten goddamn minutes? I was almost home.
Trevor: Got him.
Trevor: It’s pretty pathetic that you had to leave your son at the studio while you ran off to the strip club, don’t you think?”
I’m fuming by the time I get to that last message. I have to put my phone away for several minutes so I don’t react the way I feel. Trevor knows I don’t dance at the club, but the fact that I work at the bar right beside it is enough for him to think he can use it against me. Which is exactly why he can never know about the private events. If he did, he wouldn’t hesitate to use that knowledge until he gets what he wants. Me. And if he doesn’t get that, then he’ll make me suffer until Brayden turns eighteen.
I finish fulfilling another table of drink orders and grab my phone.
Me: You weren’t answering your phone, and my boss was threatening to fire me. I had to get to work. Have a good weekend.
My hands are shaking when I set my phone down. There’s so much more I want to say, but there’s no use defending myself to Trevor. He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t care. He uses words like they’re weapons, and I won’t stoop to his level.
Trevor: Sounds like a shitty boss. Maybe you should quit. You have the studio.
He’s trying to get under my skin. I wish it wasn’t working.
Me: The studio pays for itself. Bartending pays for the rest. Not that it’s any of your business.
Trevor: The studio is still in my name. It’s definitely my business. Think about it, Vi. If we sell the studio, you’d get a good chunk of money to find a better place to live.