Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1) (43 page)

“Here, let me help you,” the man insisted, offering his work-worn hand when he saw me struggling to stand.

Around us, a sizable crowd of people had started to gather. I wasn’t sure how many had witnessed the actual fall and how many had only walked up to see what was going on. Either way, they stared. Some whispered, one or two had smirks on their faces, but I turned away quickly after that, before those smirks turned into laughter.

It was coming. Someone always laughed.

Feeling the heat of embarrassment spread across my cheeks, I glanced down at my knee. A red streak trickled from a gash I found there, where the flesh had torn when it scraped the concrete. It burned like crazy, but compared to other times? This was nothing. It could’ve been much worse.

“Are you sure you’re okay to walk on your own?” the man asked, realizing I didn’t intend to rest there. My head swam a little, but the fog seemed to be clearing pretty quickly. That was a good thing because I was running late.

“Don’t you think you should go to the hospital?” the man called out to me as I hobbled away, favoring the knee that had taken the blow.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your help,” I shouted back over my shoulder, inching my gray satchel higher up onto my shoulder, doing my best to ignore the questioning eyes of the strangers all around me.

Was I really fine? No, but I had too much to prove to stop and nurse my wounds. I say wounds,
plural
, because both my palms were scraped pretty badly as well. Most likely in an attempt to catch myself when I realized I was going down. The thing is, I couldn’t remember how I sustained
any
of these injuries. This time or any of the others. There were simply moments of my life, chunks of time that I couldn’t account for.

However, after dealing with this all my life, I’d gotten used to it.

My head still swam from the ordeal as I made it further up the sidewalk. I ignored the disorienting sensation as much as I could, promising myself I could lie down, climb back in bed, and bury myself beneath the blankets once I got home. But for now, I had no choice but to keep going.

The heavy door slammed behind me when I entered the building through the back and the only sound after that were the leather soles of my shoes echoing off the cinderblock walls of
Indecent Exposure
.

My father’s legacy.

The one tangible link I had to the man I barely knew.

My role here, this
environment
… co-managing one of the most, if not the
single
most, notable male strip clubs here in Houston… it would take some getting used to, but I was up for the challenge. I’d never been known to back down from one.

The moment I got the call from my sister, Ivy, I jumped at the chance. She’s never called me for
anything
before now
,
much less an opportunity like this. Growing up in two separate households, leading two very separate lives—although, within the same zip code—there wasn’t an ounce of closeness between us. We were as different as night and day, polar opposites. It was actually the fact that we
didn’t
have any sort of sisterly bond that made me say yes when I got the call. For reasons she had yet to disclose, she invited me to assist her in running what was now
her
club, which she inherited from our father.

Ivy was the sister I always had, but still never really had at all. It was my hope that stepping in to help her would be the bridge that brought us closer. Some might call me a fool for even wanting such a thing after years of being snubbed, but… the bottom line is: she asked, I accepted.

Now, here I was.

A low voice could be heard on the other side of the semi-closed door and I recognized it to be Ivy’s. When she spoke without getting a response from someone in the room with her, I realized she was on a call. Not wanting to barge in, I knocked twice and waited to be invited.

“Come in,” she called out. My heart was racing a mile a minute and it still felt like the ground beneath my feet was unsteady, but I played it off. With only cut-off shorts and tube socks covering my legs, there wasn’t much I could do to hide the scrape there, but I kept my palms balled into loose fists, concealing
those
injuries at least.

I pushed the door and observed my sister sitting behind a large desk with her hands folded on the surface. She moved long, dark braids behind her shoulder before gesturing for me to have a seat.

“I’ll have to ring you back in a few,” she said to whoever was on the other end of the line. I sank into the lime green, vinyl chair across from her, thinking to myself that it had probably been here since the place was first decorated decades ago. While I knew Ivy was making enough to upgrade, I figured her thinking was most likely that she’d invest the money where it made the most sense—in the main part of the club where patrons would notice, and in her guys.

That’s what
I’d
do, anyway.

The white phone she held was cradled and a tight smile came my way. It was the same weak smile she gave every time we were face to face, so I expected it. As hard as I tried to ignore the tension between she and I, it was difficult because of the little moments like this, when her deep seated issues with me were hard to hide. I think she knew that I, personally, was not to blame for things of the past, but I was undoubtedly a representation of that hurt in the flesh.

I was a reminder of a time when her father stepped out on her mother. My birth had nearly torn her family apart.

“Glad you could make it,” she greeted me, again with the strained smile.

“I apologize for being a little late, but I ran here as fast as I could from the bus,” I explained, using the word
‘ran’
very loosely. It was more of a shuffle with my knee pretty badly hurt and my balance still being off.

“It’s not a big deal
today
,” she explained, “but on nights when there’s a show, you’re gonna want to get here a couple hours early. Anything that can go wrong usually does, so plan ahead for that,” she added.

I simply nodded, thinking the light scolding wasn’t quite fair, but it wasn’t like I could tell her what
really
held me up from being on time. I was sure she was already uneasy about bringing me into our father’s business. If she knew too much, she’d end up having even less faith in me than I suspected she already did.

“So, are you excited about getting started?” she asked. “Before you know it, you’ll be emceeing your first show!”

I breathed deep at the mention of it. “Can’t wait!” I replied, hoping I faked being confident well enough.

The lights? The stage? As a musician, I was used to being on that side of a production. My band had landed some pretty significant gigs here in Houston, as well as a few out of state. But here at
Indecent Exposure,
Ivy would be depending on me to make sure the background of this operation ran smoothly and that was new territory for me. Put a set of drumsticks in my hand and I come to life, but with a mic? Experience had taught me I wasn’t quite ready for that.

“Justin sent a text that his sister showed up unannounced, so he’ll be here a few minutes late, but it shouldn’t be much longer.”

At the mention of someone else joining Ivy and I today, my brow tensed. “Oh! I thought it’d just be us,” I said casually, despite being a little confused.

Ivy pushed her braids back again. “Initially, it was, but I got to thinking last night. You’re gonna need a right-hand guy. Kind of your go-to for insight and ideas?” she clarified. “The person I
used
to count on for those sorts of things recently got out of the biz to focus on his family, but I think you’ll like Justin.”

I didn’t let it show on my face, but… this felt like being assigned a babysitter.

I was just on the verge of feeling offended, but never got the chance. As soon as the thought hit me, Ivy’s eyes lifted toward the doorway and mine naturally followed. When they did, I didn’t blink. Like…
at all.

A song came to mind when I saw him. Not words. Nope, it was a song and the chorus cycled on repeat. It was one I knew all the words to and even the key in which Pat Benetar sung it—
F minor
. Yes, he was indeed a
Heartbreaker
… this man…
whoever
he may be.

Brown skin, just a twinge darker than my own, stood out against the crisp, white t-shirt he wore—something simple to offset the Army fatigues that cut off well below his knees. A pair of red high tops screamed
‘I care just enough to be fly, but not enough to worry if you agree’. He
, not just his attire, was the perfect blend of old and new school. Kind of a yin and yang of style that made me forget I was even beginning to get upset.

“Sidra, meet Justin.”

I was out of my seat pretty quickly, standing there as he approached—all six-foot plus inches of him. As a pretty tall girl myself,
5’10”,
it was always nice to have to look up to meet a guy’s gaze.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Justin,” he said, smiling right after when the statement came out a little awkwardly. “But… I suppose Ivy just told you that.”

That smile, it was slanted to one side more than the other, but it was still perfect. It left me wondering if he was kinda shy or just incredibly chill. I guessed the latter. Yeah… it was definitely the latter. At the realization, my stomach did a somersault.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I said back, offering my hand. However, the sight of the huge, red scrape in the center of my palm made me pull it back. When his brow quirked, I knew he’d seen the mark, but didn’t speak on it. I quickly shoved both hands inside the back pockets of my shorts, cringing at the roughness of the jean material against them.

He withdrew his hand that lingered in the air. “Sidra, is it?” he asked. “Am I pronouncing that right?”

‘You can call me whatever you want,
’ I thought to myself, but only nodded in response.

That crooked smile tugged upward to one side again and I was drawn in by his dark, probing eyes
.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to stare,” he apologized. “It’s just… you’re not really what I expected. When Ivy said your name was Sid…”

“You assumed I was a guy,” I laughed, finishing his sentence. “Yeah… I get that a lot.”

He drew in a breath and I held mine as he scanned me, looking me over from head to toe.

Ugh… you picked the perfect time to get in a fight with the sidewalk and mess up your knee, Sidra. Way to go. I probably looked like a kid just learning to ride her bike.

Acknowledging that he had to have seen that, I felt incredibly embarrassed. The attention I once welcomed, I now shied away from.

“Justin, would you mind showing Sid around for me?” Ivy asked, already reaching for her phone, apparently needing to return the call I interrupted a moment ago.

A casual shrug lifted broad shoulders and I couldn’t help but to appreciate my new tour guide’s build.

“I’ve got her,” he replied, just as Ivy began to dial.

I turned to follow behind Justin and discreetly admired the view of his back—toned peaks and ridged valleys everywhere. I could see that even through his shirt. I knew these guys would be pretty close to perfect, but I
clearly
hadn’t prepared my heart for
this
.

The sound of my name being called made me halt, but Justin continued on into the hallway without me. I focused in on Ivy as she covered the phone’s receiver with her hand.

“I know our product can be tempting,” she began, “but it’s important to remember rule number one.”

When I frowned, feeling confused, she went on to explain.

“Never get high on your own supply.” A stern look followed, but that was it. She went right into her phone call and her eyes left me.

Those words were still in my thoughts as I joined Justin just beyond Ivy’s office door. He was waiting and I zeroed in on his full lips and the hint of scruff on his chin when he spoke.

“Ready?” he asked.

I only nodded, letting him know I was. But then, staring at his back when he continued on down the hall, that’s when I finally got what Ivy meant… ‘
Never get high on your own supply’.

The guys were off limits.

To her.

To me.

Apparently, my assessment of Justin in her office hadn’t gone unnoticed, but hell! Who could blame me? Asking myself that question, I surveyed him again, marveling at his solid, and yet lean, frame. I could imagine he had these women going crazy when he performed. At the thought of getting to see that for myself in just a few days, my teeth sank into my bottom lip. It was all I could do to hold to Ivy’s most recently expressed rule.

‘Never get high on your own supply, Sidra,’
I recited to myself in a whisper, hoping I was able to hold to that. However, I had the gnawing feeling that my new babysitter, my designated tour guide, would be the hardest drug I’d have to resist here at
Indecent Exposure
.