“You try out at The Line?”
“No.”
He raised a brow.
“You have a problem with the Reapers MC?”
I shook my head quickly. Too quickly, I realized, because he smirked. Sheesh.
“Okay, take off your clothes and dance for me,” he said. “We’ll see what you can do.”
I swallowed, because this was it. I caught the edges of my shirt, then looked down, thinking. The last time I’d done this had been in my stepfather’s house. He’d been watching. With his friends.
I promised myself I’d never do it again—not like this.
“What kind of shifts do you have open?” I asked suddenly, feeling desperate. “I mean, if you like what I can do.”
“Right now we have weekdays.”
“No evenings?”
“Not for someone new, no,” he said. “We’ve got new girls in from Vegas all the time. Locals get day shifts unless they work their way up.”
Something like relief flooded me. I couldn’t work day shifts—I’d lose my spot at school. They’d already been great about working around my schedule, but the reality was that I had to be there in the afternoons. Otherwise I’d never graduate.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t give up the future I’d worked so hard to create to earn money for Mom—I didn’t even know for sure whether she was telling me the truth . . . She’d always lied to get money. That’s how she lived.
“I’m sorry, I made a mistake,” I said quickly. “I can’t work weekdays. I should go.”
He nodded his head slowly, pushing to his feet.
“Sure,” he replied. “If you change your mind, come back. I haven’t seen your moves yet, but you’re my type. We can probably find something for you.”
His eyes flickered across my boobs when he said “my type” and I thought I might throw up. Thankfully he opened the door and I was able to leave quickly. The bartender winked at me as I walked by, feeling icky and disgusted with myself. Outside the air was fresh and the sun was bright—the strip club had felt like being trapped in a crazy, alternate-world pit. Of course, that was mostly in my mind. The building itself was nice.
Being inside just felt so wrong. Guess I wasn’t as tough as I used to be. Of course, in my new life—my sane life—I didn’t need to be.
Now I had to figure out some other way to save my mom. I climbed into my car and drove to the library, figuring that was as good a place to start as any—if nothing else, I could use their computers. I might not be able to send her as much money, but there had to be resources for women in her situation . . .
Two hours later I had everything I needed.
There was a women’s center right in my old hometown, and I’d even talked to the manager on the phone. She promised me that when Mom was ready to go, they could send out a squad car with a trained counselor to pick her up.
They just needed a time and location.
I clutched the phone numbers in my hand and stood outside in the green grass. There was a nice spot under a tree across the parking lot. I walked over and lowered myself to the ground, determined to get it over with. Then I dialed my mom’s number.
“Are you getting the money?” she asked. I braced myself, my face flushing with emotion.
“No. I wasn’t able to get any more money. But I have something better—I’ve found some people who can help you. Rescue you. All you have to do is call them and they’ll come out with the police to pick you up. They do this kind of thing all the time. One phone call—that’s all it takes. They’ll even help us buy a bus ticket so you can come stay with me in Callup.”
She didn’t speak for a minute. Then she screeched so loud it nearly broke my eardrum.
“You ungrateful little shit! If I thought some bitch with the police could help me, I’d have called her already. I have a goddamned phone. You’re so fucking high and mighty that you’ve forgotten what it means to take care of your family. I don’t care how you get that money—steal it, fuck someone, do whatever it takes. Otherwise—”
I turned off the phone and dropped it into the grass.
Holy. Shit.
I felt tears well up in my eyes, and then I wiped them away, because fuck her.
Puck was right.
Mom was playing me. Again. I’d offered her a way out and she wouldn’t even consider it, which meant that she’d never been serious about coming up here at all. Why the hell did I even take her phone calls, anyway? I was done. Done. No more. She could fuck right off, and I wasn’t sending her what was left of my money, either. I’d use it to pay my damned bills like a responsible person.
I grabbed my phone and stood, walking toward my car. I’d drop off my utility payment before driving home and baking pie for Earl. Then I’d go have dinner with him and Regina—my real family—and forget all about that hateful bitch down in California.
Just because she’d given birth to me didn’t mean I had to take her shit.
During the drive home I played all my favorite music loud, singing and rocking out along the way because for the first time in my life I felt truly free.
I had my own life now and it was good. Maybe Puck would spend the night again. The thought put a smile on my face.
She didn’t get to ruin it—I wouldn’t let her.
TEN
Two hours later smoke filled the kitchen and the smoke alarm was screaming. It was loud, too. Earl didn’t believe in fucking around when it came to alarms. I’d smelled the pie burning just seconds ago, yet now it was like a bomb had gone off in my kitchen.