Free Strip Me Bare by Marissa Carmel Page B

I
didn’t know jack about stripping. That’s when Divan slapped me on
the back and said ‘that’s perfect, we’ll call you Jack the
Stripper,’ the rest is history.”
    “And that’s the night you got wasted and told
Lorenzo all about me?”
    Ryan looks down at his coffee and fiddles
with the spoon, “Yes, the girl I danced for. She looked like you.”
He glances back up.
    I’m not sure how I feel about that. I know I
told Ryan I would try to deal with his occupation, but I’m not sure
how well I can handle the details. On the flip side though, I’m
curious as hell. I’m stuck in-between a prying rock and a perturbed
hard place.
    “I wasn’t out of prison very long when I
started working at Culture,” he goes on, and I’m suddenly at the
edge of my seat. “Mac hooked me up with the job.”
    “Mac?” I bat my eyelashes, surprised. Mac is,
or at least was, Ryan’s best friend. He always reminded me of one
of those cute, popular guys in high school who had a quirky side.
And he was always wearing one of those stupid T-shirts’ with the
goofy sayings like, This Is What Awesome Looks Like.
    “Yeah,” Ryan rubs the back of his neck. “He
was living in the city by the time I got out and promoting for a
few big night clubs.”
    “Mac knew where you were?”
    “Yes.”
    I huff, and sort of feel stupid. “I went to
him looking for you.”
    “I know,” he says apologetically, “I told
him, ordered him actually, not to tell you where I was.”
    I’m kicking myself right now. I knew I should
have pressed Mac harder, recalling our last conversation. I was
convinced he knew something and I just didn’t listen to my
instincts.
    “Where’s Mac now?”
    “California. He met a girl, got married and
moved out there. Bang, bang, bang. I was crashing on his couch when
it all happened.”
    “Wow. Just like that?”
    “Just like that.”
    “You must miss him.”
    “Yeah, I do. But he’s happy. So I’m happy,”
he smiles sincerely.
    I can’t help but smirk. That statement is so
Ryan; Mr. Empathetic.
    “So, Mac got you the job…?” I urge him
on.
    “Mac got me the job,” Ryan sighs, “he had had
enough of me moping around. I was in a pretty dark place after I
got out. I was angry, drinking a lot, unfocused. A mess really.
Then they threw me up on stage and all my demons were right there
staring back at me. All long blonde hair and chestnut brown eyes. I
almost chickened out, but then I sorta felt like if I bailed on
her, I was bailing on you all over again. So I went for it. And it
was, I don’t know, rehabilitative.”
    “Are you telling me stripping is
therapeutic?” I raise my eyebrows.
    “It was. You’re my therapy now.”
    I shake my head at him; smooth talker.
    “Is that why you didn’t come find me when you
got out? You were in a bad place?”
    “That’s part of the reason. I didn’t know how
I would handle it if you rejected me.”
    Ryan’s eyes change and there’s no longer that
light in them; the light that I love so much.
    “What was prison like?”
    Ryan’s expression morphs into something dark.
Something unrecognizable and I know I just stepped over the
line.
    “I don’t really think you need to hear about
it.”
    “I think it might be good for you to talk
about it.”
    “Not with you,” he looks away and crosses his
arms.
    “Why not? You just said I was your
therapy.”
    “Alana, no. I don’t want to go there with
you.”
    “I want you to.”
    “Why?” he snaps.
    Because I ’ m crazy.
    “Because if we’re going to be together, I
need to know.”
    “Are we together?” Ryan immediately fires
back.
    I stare at him impassively. I said maybe I’d try, but that was no declaration.
    Am I even ready to full-on commit? It’s so
fast, but it feels like we’ve never been apart.
    “If that’s what you want,” I say with my
heart beating like a bass drum in my chest.
    “You know what I want. You’re the only thing
I’ve ever wanted,” his eyes are like daggers