Page 40 of Into the Blue
I wonder if Blue wanted this life or if he just took it. I don’t ask.
He tosses the filter into a bucket and turns off the fan in the window. By the time he’s back over to me, I hold my hand out for him to pull me out of the chair. He pops a stick of gum into his mouth and instead of having to take it from his lips, he hands me a piece, as well.
Blue helps me to the hallway again and we reach a spacious kitchen with the same dark wood as the rest of the house with matte black appliances. It’s so much like a cave in this place.
A very luxurious cave with cherry wood and hidden corners.
He helps me sit at a bar stool in the kitchen that overlooks the stove and sink on the opposite side. My observations of him are slow because of whatever we smoked, but I’m no less aware that he’s getting things to cook.
He’s… feeding me.
I expect some kind of munchie meal or stereotypical stoner food like instant ramen and grilled cheese but by the look of the ingredients—it won’t be that.
He pulls a large knife from a wooden block on the counter and expertly filets a chicken breast into thin cutlets before seasoning them and setting it aside. He methodically portions then rinses some rice and presses a button on a rice cooker before coming back to the first counter and cleaning it. Whatever this meal is, it beats the frozen junk I’ve been settling for by a mile. He chops some vegetables and I watch in fascination. If watching him roll a blunt was sexy, then this is basically pornographic.
As mundane as it is, I’ve never been on the receiving end of something like this. Yes, my mom cooked for me. But, my dating life is virtually nonexistent because of my job. Kinda hard to balance both when either expects to bethe only one.
I know what he can do with a knife and all of it turns me on like a horny little cat, apparently. He definitely has activated some kind of knife kink for me because, “me next,” is poised on my lips. I don’t get the chance to embarrass myself because he is the one to break the silence between us.
“How did you become a…” he pauses, bent over with a tray in his hand. I get a glimpse of the writhing tattoos over his strong back as the t-shirt rises up a bit and I try not to bite my cracked lip. “A dancer? Always a story there.” He’s back to cleaning the counter, now that he’s put the vegetables in the oven, but I want to go back to the mystery tattoos I’ve yet to see.
How is it that I still haven’t seen this man naked?
A few moments pass where I try to think of how to answer this question. It’s not complicated, but I find myself wanting to be honest even though I know I can’t be fully. “I guess, I’m following the family business, too. My mom danced and I grew up around it to an extent. I knew all theother women who worked in her club. My best friend is the daughter of a dancer. It was just normal to me though I know how people see us—judge us. My mom never glamorized the life or let me see it as anything other than it was. She taught me to dream big and I am. My story doesn’t end with me dancing at Off Topz.” There. All of that is true.
Liezel has been my friend and support as we both navigated life as young girls who had seen too many things, too young. Our moms weren’t saints, but they kept us fed, clothed, and off the pole until we were old enough to make our own decisions. We could have done anything else, but community is hard to find and even harder to leave. And every single one of those ladies were family to me. That’s why it hurts so badly to lose members.
I miss my girls, but I’m here for a much bigger reason.
The chicken sizzles in a pan and he tends to them before asking, “Where does it end?”
“I don’t know yet.” I rub my chin, realizing that I must look like death with no makeup covering my swollen and sore eyes. Why had I not thought to do any kind of primping in all this time?Shit.
“Maybe I could help you with that,” he hedges. I fight back a smirk because even looking like the thing that got caught in a lawn mower, I still played my role perfectly.
You already are, more than you could ever know.
Chapter 14
There’s a woman in my house.
This is not justanywoman.
Fuck I look like having any regular ol’ woman staying in my crib?
This is a woman that could make me change my ways.
The fact that she’s still here is proof of that.
In the fifteen years I’ve lived in this house alone since my dad passed, I’ve never let a chick stay over. Yea, I might bring them back here, but the score is settled before they walk in.
You can come, but ultimately, you gotta go.
I’ve been taking care of Racquelle though. Best I know how. Had Vert and Geno go get her things from that apartment and now she wants for nothing. That place never looked like one she cared about anyway. No personality or indication that she was planning on staying there.
Now she doesn’t have to.
Redd managed to find her purse and phone on the side of the highway so she’s got a way to tell her friends and her family that she’s okay. She has relaxed a lot more since she’s been able to contact them. As much as anyone can who’s been jumped by a bunch of cowards.
