Pining: Forgiveness Ch. 09

The customers had fled. The fluorescents were on. The stage lights were off. The club looked entirely different. Goodbye glitz. Hello shabby. My coat was back on but my bottom was still bare. I mean, really? Couldn't the cops let me go back stage to put something on before they took our statements? They were being professional enough, but I could see that they were affected. So let me put on some clothes! I am the victim here.

At least I thought I was the victim.

Luke wanted Collin arrested. Collin claimed he was defending me. Luke would've gotten his way, except Ron, the bouncer, said Luke had assaulted me. I didn't want to file a report, because I didn't want my family seeing it. And they would. It might even ruin my sister's happily ever after. I couldn't do that. Marcus, the manager, and Stacie, the other stripper, were pissed at the loss of business. I don't think I'll be getting another shift, at least not until after my rent was due. Someone shove a Donkey Kong vibrator up my ass and turn it on high, because I don't think I could be any more fucked.

"Miss Rivers..." I yanked my mind back to the here and now.

"Miss Rivers, we're almost through. Stay with us a little bit longer." Even barefoot—I'd removed my pumps—because, you know, broken heel—I was a hair taller than the buzz cut cop. But body armor, Billy-club, Taser, gun and dick—yes, sad to say, but dick entered the equation—gave him an air of authority that I couldn't ignore. Friggin' a, how was it that possessing a dick gave a person authority? Why did possessing lady parts put us ladies a step behind? Well, us ladies that were actually ladies, because, at the moment, I think I was firmly classified otherwise.

"Did Mr. Stromberg assault you?" The cop winced. We'd all heard Councilwoman Stromberg's name invoked a couple hundred times tonight.

"I don't know. I mean, he did drag me—"

"She's my girlfriend!" Luke roared. "She was flashing her tits at the crowd."

Crowd, really? There'd maybe been ten people in here. He and his brother had made up twenty percent of them. Collin and his hockey friends had made up another forty percent.

"I was trying to make her cover up. She was embarrassing me!"

I—what! Everyone looked at me startled. Had I said that out loud? Had it shrieked like it shrieked in my head? I think I had, because I didn't stop. "I was doing my job! Councilwoman Stromberg doesn't pay my tuition! My rent is due in like two days and because of you, I can't afford it!"

"You should have told me!"

"So like what? You could pay my way and I'd like owe you? A Stromberg. Are you fricking kidding? I've watched the news. I know who benefits every time a business goes bankrupt in Florence!" Florence, Oregon was the coastal community my family had moved to when I was in high school. It's were we'd met the Strombergs. They had a mansion on Heceta Beach. We had a shack just off of the wrong side of Highway 101. "So what if I was flashing my tits at the crowd? They're my tits!"

"God, listen to yourself! You're no better than a cam whore!"

They should make boxing gloves out of shame, because the way those words hit me, they left me reeling. I jerked my gaze away from Luke, and then Collin, and then a cop, and then Marcus the manager, and then the other cop until it had nowhere to go but the floor. My knees quaked. My focus narrowed. Heat blistered all my cheeks, and everything in between, face to butt. I'm pretty sure my body-language was broadcasting, "Yup, guessed it in one, I'm a cam whore." I had the horrific image of all these men looking me up online later tonight. Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. I started to fold.

Arms caught me. Big, solid, muscley arms. I fisted the North Face jacket hiding the chest attached to those arms and buried my face in it. I don't know why, but I felt safe there. Those arms scooped me up like I weighed nothing. I kept my face hidden in the chest. We began moving.

"Mr. Kimball we are not through here." I think it was the younger cop that said that—the one that had tried to interrogate me. I knew that Mr. Kimball meant Collin. Collin Phinley Kimball. That was his name. But I was too distressed to care that the man who held me was my mortal enemy. All that I cared about was that I felt sheltered in his arms.

"I'm not going anywhere. But someone needs to give Kenzie the privacy and dignity she deserves. Since no one else will, that falls to me." I heard heat in Collin's words—rough, rumbly, angry heat. Something in my heart cracked and it hurt so freaking bad my throat constricted. There was a burn behind my eyes. I hadn't been crying but I was in danger of starting now. "As soon as we find her clothes, and a private place to change, I'll be right back out."

The younger officer objected. It wasn't procedure. The other told him to let it go.

The lighting dimmed and I knew we'd moved back stage. Not trusting my voice, I squirmed until he set me down. He steadied me and then put a finger under my chin but I glanced away, because, yeah, those hot tracks running down my cheeks were tears.

"You okay?"

No.

"Yes," I said, barely audible. My voice sounded wet even in my own ears. Collin tried to lift my chin once more but I jerked away from him. I tugged my jacket down in a vain hope of covering my butt and strode towards the locker room.

"Kenzie..." His voice sounded pained and my heart splintered a little more. Six years, six fricking years, without a word and now this. I wanted to throw myself in his arms and cling to him like the little girl I'd once been. But I wasn't a little girl anymore and he was not my Prince Charming. He'd proven I was nothing to him. A sob welled up and it was all I could do to choke it back down.

"Kenzie," he said, following me into the locker room, "why are you here?"

I fiddled for a moment with the lock on my locker and then popped it open. Part of me wanted to tell him, but my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had just reamed me good. Little bubbles of fury began to fizzle in my blood. I yanked my backpack out of the locker and fished clothes—jeans, briefs, bra, sweater, sneakers and socks—from within. I threw each on the bench, grabbed the zipper of my jacket and ripped it down. "Stripping!" I snapped.

"Fuck—" Collin jerked away from me and turned his back. "—Kenzie."

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I wanted him to get an eyeful—and despair. I didn't care how he made my heart throb. I didn't care how safe I felt in his arms. I didn't care that I had dreamed of him between my legs every day since the start of the quarter. I wanted him to see what he was missing, and could never have.

Another part of me was grateful he'd looked away.

"McKenzie—" Collin was frustrated. I could tell. He'd used my proper name. "—I know you are stripping—and no judgement—shit—I came here to watch. But you're not happy about it. So..."

I dressed, with his back, like a brick wall, facing me. "You heard me. I need the money." My voice, and mood, had become a little more subdued. I scrubbed away my makeup with an off-brand wipe and shoved my kit, my purse and my dancing outfit back in the pack. "School's not cheap." I slipped my jacket back on and shoved past Collin.

"Did you—"

I shot him a heated glance, but kept walking. More like stomping. "Do you not think I tried everything, Collin?"

"Fuck. Sorry." He glanced away from me and ran a hand through his not quite blond, not quite brown hair. I ran into the doorframe, because, well, I had been focused on him, his arm and the way his pecs flexed under that North Face jacket. When I bounced back into said pecs, I hastily scrubbed the point of impact in an attempt to hide the fact I was really wiping away my drool. His arms wrapped around me as he caught me.

"Ow."

"Are you okay?" There was an alarmed note in Collin's voice.

I made no move to break from his arms. I wanted to stand there a moment longer. "Nothing broken but my pride."

My back, to his chest, his chuckle vibrated some very sensitive spots—spots that were already reacting to the nearness of his presence. Okay, that was enough. I pushed free of his embrace.

We returned to the interrogation. And, yeah, not fun. I did end up filing a report—just so Collin wouldn't end up charged—and prayed to every god, present and past—including Sin himself—that Dad and Mother never see it. I'm not afraid of my dad. I'm afraid of disappointing him. I'm terrified of how my mother might shame me. I've never figured out why she hates me. But while I despise Collin's guts, it would kill me to see him hurt. I don't understand myself sometimes.

By the time we were through, it was midnight. My fifty-fifty take on tips was twenty-five bucks. I'd walked to the club. It'd taken forty five minutes. I'm pretty sure if I Ubered home tonight would be a net loss.

I cycled a heavy breath. Looking Glass Lake was blacker than the night sky, but the bike path that ran along it between town and school was paved and easy to walk. I can't say I wasn't a little creeped, but I was a big girl, with few good options.

"Where are you going?"

I glance back at Collin. He'd stopped in his tracks but had clearly been headed to join his buddies. They were leaning up against an ultra-modern, high price tag, Jeep Wrangler. The ultimate man-boy car.

"Home," I said and continued my trek across the lot.

"Where's your car?" His voice was sharp and I could almost feel him moving towards me. It was like his aura was bumping against mine or something. I picked up my pace.

"I don't have a car."

"We'll wait with you until your ride arrives." His voice was closer.

"I don't have a ride."

"Uber?"

"No money, remember?"

"Sorority sister?"

"They don't know I'm here. I'm keeping it that way."

"Kenzie, you can't walk." He was closing fast. I could hear his feet slapping the pavement as he jogged towards me.

I glanced over my shoulder and spit my words at him. "I have two legs, don't I?"

"Kenzie!"

Okay, he didn't say it. Kudos on him. But he was thinking it. So was I. And, truth be told, I was more than a little creeped. Cascade Pines University spent a lot of money on student safety. But I was not on campus and there were a lot of places for a predator to hide. My head swiveled forward right as I head butted one of his buddy's chests. I had zero idea how he got there or where he came from. I mean, had he sprinted all the way from their car? How had I not noticed?

"Careful there." He instinctively grabbed my shoulders, but the moment I was stable, he released me. Like Collin, he was big and strong and muscley. He might've been a whisker shorter. In this light his wavy hair was dark. The shadow on his jaw looked like third day scruff. His face was chiseled. Objectively hot. But my lady parts just didn't notice. Collin jogged up beside us, his breathing not even effected by the workout, and my nipples scratched at the padding of my bra. It was barely even cold out!

And the flush in my skin, the dew-point in my panties, suggested I wasn't cold—at all. How was I supposed the hate the man when my body betrayed me every time I glanced his way? I mean, that class we had together, statistics, had become a thrice a week lessen in erotic torture. I'd started going to my online room after that class, because, why not? Then I spent the entire session wishing I was with him. Ugh. I hated him. How come he had to grow up to be so hot! The boys that break your fragile little teenage heart are supposed to grow up and look like Bevis or Butthead. That should be law!

"You're not walking, KZ. Call a friend and we'll wait. Or ride with us. Btw, I'm Roman."

I was confused for a heartbeat. I heard the words, but Collin's lips hadn't moved. Oh, wait. The other dude was here. Collin's friend. The objectively hot one. The one that had never broken my heart. Why couldn't I be salivating for him?

"The police are right there. Are you really telling me I can't make my own decisions?"

"If you walk, Kenzie, we're walking with you," Collin growled.

Ugh. My heart just did a happy dance. Why did a forty-five minute moonlit walk with this big, pushy, muscley man make me want to melt? He traded me in for Ashley's boobs. I mean, Ash has great boobs, but, really?

"Fine," I snarled. Then inspiration struck. "Shotgun!"