Rowdy glared at Raven across the table, then snapped, “Just talk to them, and see if they’d be a good fit for us. We need more delivery girls. The ones we have now can’t make any more deliveries.”
Coke, who was sitting beside him, somberly nodded. “I agree, though I still worry that we’re taking on too many girls. Our current ones would need to stop stripping entirely to keep up with the deliveries, and that’s not an option. We need more people to make deliveries. It’s that simple.”
Raven frowned across the conference table. Shane had put her in charge of the delivery girls, which meant she had to work closely with Coke and Rowdy. Coke was fine…but Rowdy only cared about getting laid. He was too unreliable, she thought, to be involved with the delivery girls.
But like it or not, both men were right. They had more product, and more requests for it, than they could currently deliver. It was a good problem to have, but one that needed to be resolved quickly.
“Fine,” she sighed, and shot Rowdy a narrow-eyed glance. “Send them up, and I’ll interview them. You found each of them?”
“Sort of,” he grinned, with just enough sarcasm to sting. “Isabella introduced them to me, and I had a chance to interview them myself. Believe me, they’re exactly what we need.”
“Isabella brought them to you, huh?”
“Yep. She likes girls, and occasionally she’ll bring one home with her,” he smirked, then downed a shot of tequila. “That’s where I met them, and I had a chance to talk with them about making some extra money. They love the idea, and they need the money.”
She shifted her intense gaze toward the big biker. “Have you talked to these women, Coke?”
“I have,” he nodded. “I have to agree with Rowdy on this one…and believe me, I’m as surprised as you are. I never thought I’d find myself agreeing with the walking penis there.” Rowdy cheerfully flipped him off, and he returned the colorful gesture before continuing, “Shane also said we need to start weaning Crystal off deliveries. It doesn’t need to happen fast, but we need to start planning for when she won’t be with us anymore. She still makes most of the San Antonio deliveries, so we’ll need more than one girl to replace her.
That decided Raven; Shane had married her, but she always worried that Crystal would come back into his life. That jealousy stoked her anger and resentment against the blonde stripper.
“Okay,” she said, and leaned back in her chair. “I’ll speak to them. We do need more help with deliveries, but I want to make sure we’re picking the right women.” She already knew she’d accept them, though. Anything to get rid of Crystal!
I can’t fucking wait until she’s gone. I’m so sick of hearing her name!
Tim was still raging when he finally pulled into his driveway, and stomped his way up to the trailer. The door slammed behind him. He swore at it, and the world in general, then forced himself to calm down. A quick voicemail to his boss ensured that he wouldn’t be at work tomorrow. Crystal sure as hell wasn’t dancing tomorrow night, either, he thought furiously. No fucking way.
What’s wrong with her, anyway? Can’t she see that she’s hurting our marriage?
He wished he could forget Lauren’s ugly warning about Meth. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t. He wouldn’t believe it until he’d seen the proof with his own eyes.
And if she was using it, he realized with a sick gut-wrenching lurch, she wouldn’t admit it. He’d have to find that proof himself.
Slowly, methodically, he started to search the trailer, checking every drawer, shelf, and cabinet. The living room was clean, and so was the kitchen. He paused long enough to get a beer, then ransacked the bedroom, the closet, and finally the bathroom.
The bathroom, he thought a few minutes later. Why is it always the bathroom?
Under any other circumstances, the generic orange prescription bottle wouldn’t have caught his attention. But this one didn’t have a prescription label on it. Frowning, he opened it, and spread the contents on the bathroom counter. The assortment of small caplets and a few small almost-clear crystals nearly made him retch with anger and worry.
Not weed! Serious fucking drugs. In my house!
Swearing, he dumped the entire lot into the toilet, then flushed it twice.
What else had she hidden from him?
Grimly he kept searching.
An hour later he found the glass pipe tucked away in Crystal’s spare makeup bag, hidden under an assortment of makeup cases and brushes. He took his hammer to it, and gleefully smashed it into dust.
Fuckin’ Crystal!
Still furious and riding high on adrenaline, he searched the house again, but didn’t find anything else. Finally he sagged down on the bed…and stared at the little safe they’d purchased to hold her tips until they could be deposited.
Jesus. Why didn’t I start there? Fuckin’ dumbass!
Cursing fluently, he knelt down and punched in the security code. Then his jaw dropped. The safe was full of folded wads of cash, each wrapped tightly with a brown rubber band. He couldn’t believe how much money was in the safe. And not just cash…there were more small bags of the same whitish, almost-clear crystals. And another glass pipe.
Fuck me! More drugs? How much is she using?
Initially he’d deposited her tips every Monday, but once his schedule had gotten more intense, she’d taken over those weekly trips to the bank. There was no question in his mind that she wasn’t depositing her entire earnings. What was she doing with the rest of it?
He didn’t have a clue what to do with those neatly-folded wads, but he damned well knew what to do with the drugs. The toilet flushed again, and he felt a piece of his heart circle down the drain with them.
What the fuck do I do now? he wondered angrily. I’m living in a fucking Meth house.
How had their marriage reached this point? Where had things gone so wrong? Was Sherrod right; was Crystal about to drop him? She’d looked happy and extremely comfortable on the club owner’s arm. And he’d looked like he wanted her to stay there.
How did we get here? Jesus. How does shit like this happen?
Then he sighed and shook his head. Focus on your marriage, dude.
Hadn’t Crystal told him she had to act a certain way for her customers? So maybe she’d just been acting tonight. If only he could believe that. But he was desperate enough to grab at straws. He wanted to believe.
His favorite picture of Crystal and him was on the nightstand. It had been taken during their wedding reception. They’d been so happy, so much in love!
She’d been beautiful then, but she was even more beautiful now. Wearily he flopped back on the bed, and laid it on his chest.
Focus on saving your marriage, Tim.
A gentle stroking woke him, and he realized he’d fallen asleep still fully-dressed. Crystal was lying next to him, caressing his cheek and hair. She smiled sweetly, then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Good morning, honey.”
He rubbed his face with both hands, and sat up. She moved with him, and ran her hand over his back. He noticed that she was wearing a nightgown, and wondered whether she’d slept with him last night…or somewhere else. Possibly with someone else.
“Tim, what’s wrong?”
He was so angry that he didn’t dare say anything to her, or even make eye contact. That had never happened before.
Shaking off her hand, he stalked into the bathroom, then headed out to the kitchen. She joined him a few minutes later wearing street clothes, and sat down at the table. He concentrated on brewing a pot of coffee, then headed for the couch and opened one of his textbooks.
“You’re not talking to me this morning?” she asked softly, sounding a little baffled.
He didn’t respond…didn’t even look up or acknowledge that she’d spoken. He just stared at the account page, not really seeing it, and continued giving her the silent treatment.
It was childish and petty…and felt fucking great.
“Baby,” she urged, joining him, “please talk to me.”
Normally she was the one giving him the silent treatment until he begged for forgiveness, and it never took long. Now that the tables were turned, she was clearly at a loss.
When the coffee machine beeped, he headed in to pour a cup, and doctored it with plenty of creamer and sweetener. His hands shook with visible anger when he took the first sip. Carefully he took a deep cleansing breath; if he didn’t calm down, he’d do or say something they’d both regret later.
She watched him for another moment, then spun on her heel and stamped toward the door. “Fine. Fuck you, asshole,” she snapped, and grabbed her purse.
When the door was half-open, he suddenly asked, “How long have you been using Meth, Crystal?”
She froze and paled. Silence reigned for several long moments. Tim glared at her while she stared down at her feet. Finally she sighed, and slammed the door shut again. “It’s not what you think…” Then she snapped, “Besides, I’m a fucking adult. You’ve never had a problem with me using weed. Why are you so concerned about Meth?”
He took a sip of coffee, but barely even felt it burn his tongue. The fire that had been burning in his gut suddenly leaped up and flashed from his eyes. “You never hid the weed from me,” he retorted, and set the cup down. “You never kept any in the house, and you only used it when we were together. Can you say the same about Meth?”
“No, I can’t,” she admitted, “but that doesn’t mean anything. We barely see each other anymore, because you’re always at school and I’m dancing.”
“Good point,” he said quickly. “Where are you dancing now, Crystal?”
“I told you before,” she replied. “I’m dancing at Joe’s place, and once in a while I dance at the other club across town.”
“Is that right?” His glare slid into a mocking sneer. “Are you sure it’s not the other way around, honey?” The venom in his normally-quiet voice could have killed a horse. “I stopped by Joe’s club last night. He said you hadn’t danced there in months.”
That startled her, but she quickly countered, “Honestly, why does it matter? I do the same job at both clubs.”
“It matters,” he said coldly, “because I wanted to see if you’d be honest with me.”
She opened and closed her mouth several times, but nothing emerged. Finally she threw up her hands, and thumped down onto the couch. Sniffling, she reached for a tissue. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worried about what? Told me what?” he snarled. “The drugs, or the new club? I mean, where do we fucking start? How much shit don’t I know?”
Normally he caved immediately when Crystal started crying. It was the worst possible outcome to their arguments, and he avoided it like the plague. But today was different, because he was certain she was faking tears for his benefit. Instead of rushing to her side, he stayed in the kitchen and sipped his coffee again, waiting patiently for the waterworks to end.
It didn’t take long. After a few more moments, she wiped her eyes and spread both hands wide. “Both. I knew you wouldn’t approve of the Meth or the new club, even though I’m making more money than ever.”
“It was never about the money!” he accused. “I couldn’t care less about the money! You started taking Meth for you, and you moved to the new club because you wanted to, not because of the money!”
“That’s not true!” she insisted. “I did do it for the money! Check the safe…it’s all there, and I didn’t spend any of it on myself. I wanted to save it for our down-payment fund, and your tuition.”
“And to buy more drugs,” he baited, twisting the knife.
She wadded the tissue in her fist, and smacked the couch. “I don’t buy drugs, Tim. I don’t need to…”
She stopped abruptly, and looked away.
“You don’t need to buy drugs?” He could hardly believe his ears! “How the fuck are you getting them?”
“Just forget it,” she begged. “I’ll stop taking them, all right? Happy now?”
“Where are you getting the drugs?” he repeated, more loudly this time. He slammed his cup down hard enough to slosh coffee all over the counter. “Are you fucking men for drugs?”
“No! Fuck you, no!” she shouted. “Goddamn it, Tim, just drop it, okay? Meth is easy to find…it’s fucking everywhere!” Angrily she stalked into the kitchen, then switched gears and spread her hands wide in a placating gesture. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the drugs and switching clubs. I switched clubs because of the money…it’s really good…and all I’m doing is dancing with the customers. I started taking Meth to get me through some of my shifts. It gives me more energy, helps me stay awake. All the dancers take it. That’s it, that’s all.” She dropped her hands, and turned away. “I’m done with Meth, and I’ll move back to the other club if that’s what you want.”
“I want you to stop stripping,” he said angrily. “Fuck, Crystal, enough is enough! Give it up, already! We have enough money, so that’s not an issue anymore. I’m almost done with school. It’s time to move on with our lives!”
That fired her up again, and she stomped her foot. “No! I like it, and the money’s good.” Then she added, “We use most of your paycheck to pay the bills…all of my money goes to our down-payment fund or your college tuition.”
“I know that. But look where stripping has led us!” he exclaimed, frustrated. “You’re taking Meth, for God’s sake…and you’re hiding things from me!”
“That’s done,” she assured him with a smile. “I promise.”
How could he possibly believe that? Angrily he grabbed a paper towel and started cleaning up his spilled coffee. What could he say that would convince her to stop stripping? What would it take for her to see that it wasn’t good for either of them?
Fuck. What’s so important about stripping?
She started helping him, and bumped against him as they cleaned. Then she slid her arms around him, and kissed his neck and cheek. But before she could do more, he pushed her away. Her eyes widened in shock.
“Enough,” he snapped. “A hug doesn’t solve our problems, and fucking isn’t a solution.”
He’d never been so hostile or crude before, and she stared at him in surprise.
“I went to your new club last night,” he said coldly. “I didn’t like it.”
“Why? Because all the customers are black? Are you a racist or something?” she retorted.
“No,” he said tightly. “I didn’t like it because the club manager threatened me. Is that racist?”
“What? I don’t believe you. Sherrod wouldn’t do something stupid like threaten a customer,” she protested, shaking her head.
“So you know him.” Rage kindled in his eyes again. “When I wanted to go talk to you last night, he threatened to have me beaten, put in the hospital, shoot me up with drugs, and plant more drugs on my battered body.”
She inhaled sharply in surprise. “Tim…”
“That’s not all,” he interrupted. “He also said he’d have the other strippers tell the cops I’d exposed myself, tried to attack them, and offered them drugs.”
Genuine tears flooded her eyes this time. “No, he didn’t. He couldn’t! I’m so sorry, baby!”
“Apparently you were with the club owner,” he said coolly, watching her reaction, “and he didn’t want you two disturbed. I wonder why, Crystal? He also said you belong to the club while you dance. Why is that?”
She took several moments to answer, and he could see that she was choosing her words carefully. “I dance for the club owner,” she finally murmured. “He hired me personally, and he likes me to dance for him. I think he likes white girls.” A smile flitted across her lips before she could erase it. “He tips really well.”
“And does he pay you for sex, or anything more than a lap dance?” he persisted, needing to see her face when she answered.
That was easier for her to answer, and she met his eyes without hesitation. “No. He only pays me to dance. He’s never once paid me for sex, or even hinted that I should fuck him for money.”
If she was lying, he couldn’t tell…and he desperately wanted to believe her. He wasn’t ready to consider the possibility that she might lie to him.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I believe you. But you need to stop taking Meth. I can’t deal with that…and it’s pure poison anyway. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes!” Relieved, she hugged him. “I love you…and you’re right, it’s time to give up Meth.”
She whispered, “I love you!” over and over, then slowly eased back with a baffled expression on her face. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
He managed a lopsided smile. “I called in and took the day off. I wasn’t in any condition to work, and I wanted to spend some time with you. My conversation with Sherrod last night really shook me up, and I needed to talk with you today.”
“So you have the whole day off?” A slow smile began to curve her lips.
“I wanted to do a little studying,” he nodded. “But otherwise I’m all yours.”
Eagerly she jumped up and down, and clapped her hands. “Yay!” She quickly pulled him into the bedroom, then pushed him onto the bed. “I’ve really missed you, baby! You’re all mine today!”
Tim smiled as he fell willingly onto the mattress, and watched his wife slowly peel off her clothes. It seemed like forever since they’d made love, and he couldn’t wait to feel her beside him. He no longer wanted to see her with other men…it had been exciting at first, with Shane, but it had quickly lost its appeal. Now he wanted a more traditional relationship. He sincerely hoped she did, too.
“Baby,” she murmured seductively, “is it okay if I get a tattoo? Or maybe a piercing?”
She started swaying back and forth as if she was at the club. Tim gulped, and stared hypnotically at her full breasts just like a customer. Smiling, she continued to dance, then lightly ran her fingers over his stomach. “Tim, did you hear me?”
He blinked and surfaced with a jolt. “I’m sorry…I didn’t hear you,” he blurted, then flushed with embarrassment. Again his eyes were drawn to her lush naked body.
She giggled lightly. It was completely fake, but she’d practiced so much that it sounded genuine. “I want a tattoo, silly,” she winked. “And a piercing. Is that okay?”
He’d have sold his very soul at that moment, and could only nod frantically. They’d talk about it later, he thought hazily…then reached for her, and pulled her on top of him. They were busy feeding their carnal appetites, and rediscovering each other’s bodies, for the next several minutes.
He noticed what looked like faint bruises on Crystal’s body, especially around her breasts, but he was too focused on other things to stop. They’d talk about that later, too. Then he lost himself in making love to her…
…and when they finished, the long night and early morning finally caught up with him. He slid quickly down into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Unfortunately Crystal couldn’t fall asleep quite that easily.
She lay in bed beside her husband, lost in thought. She truly had missed his attention, and she enjoyed the quiet intensity of his lovemaking. He treated every time as if it was the first time, and she found that endearing, He was a tender lover, careful to make sure she was always satisfied before allowing himself to finish.
Gentle, caring…and boring, her devilish half whispered. Predictable, and barely satisfying.
Though it wasn’t fair to him, she couldn’t help comparing him to Shane. She didn’t bother comparing him to Jingles; there was simply no comparison. The two men were polar opposites in bed. Tim lasted for one, maybe two positions, and then they were finished. Jingles was firm, even rough sometimes, demanding, and inventive. He fucked her in a variety of positions, and never hesitated to flip her into a new position and take her completely. She was always exhausted, covered in mingled sweat and sex, and thoroughly satisfied. His assertiveness turned her on. And his size, and his eyes, and his smile, and…
Everything about Jingles turns me on, she thought with a lusty grin. I’m definitely not ready to give him up…not yet, anyway.
But that time was coming soon, and she’d better face up to it. She’d have to quit stripping when Tim graduated and passed his CPA exam, and her affair with Jingles would have to end. He was the quintessential bad boy; she knew better than to try and build a future with him.
It sure as hell didn’t work for my mom, she thought sadly. She couldn’t stop chasing bad boys until her looks and body were gone, and now she can’t attract any guy.
Inwardly she smiled to herself, because that time seemed a long way off, and she intended to enjoy Jingles until then. She looked over at her sleeping husband and smiled before she carefully rolled over, kissed his cheek, and slid out of bed. He didn’t even stir.
Quietly she slipped on panties and a T-shirt, and walked to the bathroom. But when she checked the medicine cabinet, her pill bottle was missing. Frowning, she checked her spare makeup case, and found her pipe gone.
Tim must have found them, she thought. Oh well, I was just looking to get rid of them.
She carefully and quietly checked the safe. Her spare pipe and Meth baggies had vanished.
Firmly she squashed her irritation. It was probably best that Tim had thrown everything away. Still, she couldn’t resist carefully searching her purse, even though she knew there were no drugs inside.
Face it; you’re out of Meth. But it’s for the best. You don’t need it. You’re in control.
Thoughtfully she retrieved her cell phone, and texted Shane. Rowdy might be her official contact, but she didn’t want to talk with him; he’d just demand to fuck her again, or make fun of Tim. He was an asshole. He’d had some really nasty things to say once she’d told him Jingles was supplying her Meth, so she wouldn’t fuck him.
I can’t make any deliveries today, Shane. Sorry. I probably can’t make any tomorrow, either. Tim needs some attention. Thx.
She texted Jingles next.
Hey, baby. I had a lot of fun last night. God, you’re amazing!
Bad news. I won’t be in tonight, and it’s Sherrod’s fault. He threatened my husband last night. JERK! I have to repair the damage. I’ll try and make it in tomorrow. I’ll let you know. See ya soon, gorgeous.
P.S. I’m quitting Meth. Don’t need it to enjoy you!
P.S.S. I want that tattoo we talked about, and the piercings.
Once both texts had been sent, she deleted them from her history, then deleted her past texts, too. Tim wasn’t likely to check her phone, but there was no point in taking any chances.
On a whim, she checked her phone’s photo album, and nearly choked when she noticed two new pictures. Jingles must have taken them, because she recognized his office and the shoes she was still wearing. They were the only thing she’d been wearing in those photos. She immediately deleted them, and wryly shook her head.
I don’t remember Jingles taking my picture last night. Yeah, it’s definitely time to give up Meth.
Quietly she stuffed her phone back into her purse, returned to the bedroom, and slid in beside Tim. He was still soundly asleep. She kissed his cheek, snuggled up next to him, and closed her eyes.
Tim’s my future.