Page 1 of Rum & Coke
Present Day
“We’ll always have the Dodgers.”
I took a sip of the rum and Coke I was nursing at the hotel’s bar. I should have been drinking something stronger than rum, or I should have been drinking the 151 proof version that would fuck me up. However, Bacardi had discontinued it, and I was left drowning my sorrows with my usual eighty proof drink of choice even though nothing was going to prepare me for today. Not even alcohol.
Especially since it washerwedding day.
When I got the invitation on my doorstep last night, my world came to a screeching halt. Three and half months ago, she’d left me. One minute we’d just started dating, and the next minute she was moving in with the asshole. I tried to go talk to her, but I was never allowed. He lived in a gated community, and she told me on the phone that she was with him of her own free will.
Nothing added up, but in the end, I couldn’t get her back.
“We’ll always have the Dodgers.” Those were the last five words Tessa ever spoke to me. The truth was, we didn’t have the Dodgers. She hated the Dodgers, and I knew it was code— an S.O.S.—but I couldn’t get to her. Couldn’t confirm if it was a cry for help because I was never able to see her again.
I tried.
Now, she was marrying the guy, and I felt as though I was living in some sort of twilight zone. The funny thing was that I had been planning to take a break from escorting for Tessa. I wanted to see where things were headed with her because she was the first and only woman I’d ever loved. If she were to come back to me, I’d give it all up right now and whisk her away.
If I could.
But I couldn’t.
I drained the rest of my drink and then went in search of the room that would feel more like a coffin to me because watching Tessa walk down the aisle was going to be the death of me. My heart was already breaking, and I hadn’t even seen her yet. Just the mere thought of her taking someone else’s last name was enough to put a crack in my heart, shatter it into a million fucking pieces and prevent me from ever being whole again.
Why did I even come? Why did I get out of bed this morning? Why did I drive the forty minutes to Henderson and get out of my car? And why was I about to walk into my worst nightmare?
All the questions had the same answer: Because I loved her.
I loved Tessa enough to put her happiness before mine and let her go because now I understood that shedidleave me on her own. Maybe I’d never move on. Maybe I’d find someone new and eventually quit escorting and start a family. Maybe. But truthfully, after today, I’d never open my heart to anyone else.
When I found where the wedding was being held, I realized it wasn't in a room. It was a courtyard, and even though I wasn’t going to feel as though I was suffocating, the hundreds of flowers scattered around, and the altar in the center, taunted me. I made sure to get a seat in the back by the door to the hotel in case I couldn’t handle it and needed to leave.
I pulled a flask of rum from my black suit jacket and took a swig as people started to take their seats. I needed more alcohol to numb the pain. At any moment, the wedding would start. Tessa was going to walk in on her father’s arm, and he’d give her away.
And no one would know that he wasn’t the only one giving her away.
Six Months Prior …
The beatof the music thumped in my ears. I was on autopilot as I stared at the people in front of me who were cast in a red hue from the lighting. There was one group of guys who were regulars; every day after they got off work at a construction site, Brent and his co-workers would come in for a few beers. Brent was more my regular than the other guys because he was the one who always wanted a lap dance from me before he headed home. It had been like that for as long as I’d been working at Red Diamond, and I’d heard from the other girls that the group had frequented RD for a few years. I wasn’t complaining, because Brent was a good tipper. Plus, he was easy on the eyes with his buzzed head of dark hair, his green eyes, and his rock hard body.
As I danced, all I could think about was that my kid was sick again, and that meant he was missing school and important therapy time. It was hard being a single mother, and I’d never planned on struggling in life. Never planned on getting pregnant before marriage.
But it happened.
Five years ago, I found myself knocked up after a one-night stand. I wasthatperson. The one who was barely twenty-one and got drunk, slept with a Marine during Fleet Week in San Francisco, and was left to raise a baby on her own. I was able to track Scott down after I found out I was pregnant but, to make matters worse, he’d died in combat before I could tell him I was carrying his child. Since he didn’t know, that meant the military didn’t know and, therefore, all medical bills were on me and only me. All expenses were my burden alone, and now that I was a dancer, the club didn’t offer benefits because we were contract hires.
I lived in San Francisco at the time, struggling to survive without a child even though I worked at the front desk of one of the high-end hotels. It only got worse when I had Colton. Three months after he was born, we moved in with my parents. We were there for three years before I couldn’t take living under their control any longer. So, my son and I moved to Las Vegas because I’d heard the cost of living was cheaper.
Not long after we relocated, Colton was diagnosed with autism. Medical bills and his specialized preschool were covered by the state, but not his therapy. I had every intention of working the front desk at one of the hotels on the Strip when I’d moved, but so did a lot of people. As a result, when I met my neighbor who worked at Red Diamond, I decided to become a stripper. I needed the money and had no other options. Stripping was the only way for me to make ends meet.
At first, I thought I was dealt a shitty hand, but I wouldn’t change it for anything. Colton was my life, my world, the reason I got out of bed each morning.
Even in the dimly lit club saturated with red lights, red walls, and red plush seating, I’d always catch my boss, Sebastian, watching me during several of my sets from his office overlooking the stage. It made me nervous, but I figured he did it to make sure the girls were doing their jobs and getting people to stay as long as possible—and ordering several drinks.
None of the girls I worked with actually loved stripping, including me. We did it for the money, plain and simple. And honestly, if the pay and hours weren’t so good, I would have left a long time ago. Every week I dealt with drunks trying to cop a feel during a private dance, drinks accidentally being spilled on me, or guys who felt they didn’t need to pay a dime and only wanted a free show.
As I continued to sway my hips, doing the same routine I always did, I smiled at the men and women watching me, anticipating the moment I would untie my top and show them what they came for. I was on autopilot. You could say I was acting in a way.
Brent stuck a bill into my G-string. “Lap dance?” It was the same request every Thursday and Friday. Brent would wait until it was my last set and then want his lap dance for the road. I didn’t know his story, but at least he was cute and not like a lot of the men who smelled of booze and cigarettes with beer bellies.
