Paper Princess: A Novel (The Royals Book 1) (14 page)

Easton kisses me again. Deep and hungry.

His tongue enters my mouth at the same time an incredulous voice says, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Easton and I break apart, both our heads swiveling toward the open doorway where Reed stands, staring at us in disbelief.

“Reed—” Easton starts, but it’s no use. His brother turns around and stalks off.

Reed’s footsteps are as loud as my pounding heart.

Beside me, Easton rolls onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling and whispers, “Shit.”

A
second ticks by
. Two. Three. And then Easton jackknives out of bed and runs out after Reed.

“I was drunk,” I hear him exclaim in the hallway.

And the burn of humiliation—the shame I swore I never felt—scorches me. He only kissed me because he was drunk.

“Whatever, East. You do what you want. You always do.” Reed sounds tired, and my stupid heart, the hungry and lonely one that allowed Easton to kiss me, aches for Reed.

“Screw you, Reed. You wanted me off painkillers and I am, but I got stomped by a three-hundred-pound heifer out there and my ribs hurt like a motherfucker. It’s either beer or oxy. Pick one.”

Easton’s voice trails off and I don’t hear Reed’s response. Against my better judgment, I creep over to my door and peek out into the hall. I’m just in time to see them both disappear into Reed’s room. My bare feet don’t make a sound as I tiptoe down the hall to the now closed door.

“Why aren’t you still at the party? Abby was all over you after the game,” Easton says. “Easy ass, dude.”

Reed snorts. “That’s why I’m here. I can’t go back to that well.”

“Why’d you go out with her in the first place?”

I hold my breath because it’s an answer I’d like to know, too. What exactly is Reed’s type?

There’s a thump and then another one, like something being throw at the wall.

“She…she reminded me of Mom. Soft. Quiet. Not pushy.”

“Like Ella.” Easton laughs sarcastically. Another thump, this time slightly muffled. “Hey, you almost hit me with that ball, fucker.”

They both laugh. Are they laughing at me?

“Stay away from her, East. You don’t know who she’s been with,” Reed warns, and now it sounds like they’re playing catch, just casually discussing my sexual history.

“Is she really a stripper?” Easton asks after a bit. “She told me she was, but it could’ve been a lie.”

“That’s what Brooke said. Plus it was in Dad’s report.”

Brooke
told them that I stripped? So much for trusting her! And what the hell does he mean that Callum has a
report
on me?

“I never read it. Were there pictures?”

I roll my eyes at the eagerness in Easton’s voice.

“Yeah.”

“Of her stripping?” He’s even more excited.

“Naah. They were just of her doing normal shit.” Reed pauses. “She worked three jobs last summer. She clerked at a truck stop in the morning, did retail in the afternoon, and stripped at this kiddy bar at night.”

“Damn. That’s rough,” Easton sounds almost impressed. Not Reed, though. Reed comes off disgusted. “How’d Jordan find that out?”

“One of the twins blurted it out, probably while he was getting head.”

“Sawyer then. Can’t keep his mouth shut when there’s a bitch around his dick.”

“Truth.” A drawer slams shut. “You know, you could use this. I mean, hell, if she’s attracted to you, then use her. Stick with her. Find out what she really wants. I’m still not convinced that her and Dad don’t have something going on.” 

“She said she wasn’t doing him.”

“And you believed that?”

“Maybe.” Reed’s disbelief infects Easton. “How many guys you think she’s been with?”

“Who knows. Gold diggers like her will open their legs to anyone who waves a few dollars in front of ’em.”

I’m not a gold digger!
I want to shout. And these jerks couldn’t be more wrong about my active “sex life.” I haven’t even given a blowjob before. On the sex scale, I veer closer to
prude
than
pro
.

“Think she could teach me something?” Easton wonders.

“How an STD feels. But if you want to fuck her, then do it. I don’t care.”

“Really? Because you’re throwing that football hard enough that it sounds like you care.”

The thumping stops. “You’re right. I do care.”

My hand creeps up to my throat. Thud. Thud. Thud. They toss the ball back and forth. Or maybe that’s the hope in my heart.

“I care about you. I care if you get hurt, sick, whatever. I don’t give two shits about her, though.”

I look down at my hand, expecting to see blood from the wound he just slashed open. But there’s nothing there.

M
y alarm goes
off at five. My eyes are crusty and I feel sore all over. I might have cried a little before I fell asleep but this morning I feel a renewed sense of determination. There’s no point in wanting the Royals to like me, especially Reed. Steve’s widow is a bitch, but at least it’s obvious so I know what to watch for. That goes double for Easton. If he tries to use me, then I’ll use him right back.

After all, I don’t have any secrets. They’re all written out in some
report
of Callum’s.

I lace up my sneakers and shoulder my backpack that is ten grand lighter. I decided it was too stressful to be carrying around that load of cash, so I taped it to the underside of the sink in the bathroom. Hopefully it’ll be safe there.

Being up this early on a Saturday morning is so disorienting, but Lucy asked me to come in today and help her with a cake order, and I didn’t feel right saying no. Besides, I could use all the extra cash I can get.

In the hallway, I try to be as quiet as possible so I don’t wake up the Royals. I’m so focused on tiptoeing down the stairs that I almost topple over when I hear Reed’s low voice behind me.

“Where are you going?”

Hmm, that’d be none of your business
. I figure if I don’t engage him then he’ll just go back to his room.

“Whatever,” he mutters when my silence drags on. “I don’t give a shit.”

After his bedroom door clicks shut, I give myself a pat on the back for alienating another person in my life and slip out through the front door. It’s still dark out as I walk to the bus stop. When I reach it, I tuck myself inside the little bus shelter and try to shut out every bad thing in my life.

My skill, if I have one, isn’t dancing. It’s my ability to believe that tomorrow can be a better day. I don’t really know where I got this optimism. Maybe it was from Mom. Somewhere along the line, I started thinking that if I just got through this bad experience, this bad day, that tomorrow I’d have something better, brighter, newer.

I still believe that. I still believe that there’s something good out there for me. I just have to keep going until my time comes, because surely,
surely
, none of this would happen if there wasn’t a reward down the line.

I take a deep breath. The salt of the sea makes the air taste fresh and tangy. As terrible as the Royals are, as awful as Dinah O’Halloran is, today
is
better than a week ago. I have a warm bed, nice clothes, plenty of food. I’m attending a really amazing school. I have a girlfriend.

It’s all going to be okay.

Really.

I arrive at the bakery feeling better than I have in days. It must show because Lucy compliments me immediately.

“You look gorgeous this morning. Oh, to be young again.” She clucks in mock dismay.

“You look amazing yourself, Luce,” I tell her as I tie on an apron. “And something smells delicious. What are those?” I point to the little domes of glazed goodness.

“Mini monkey bread. It’s tiny pieces of cinnamon-flavored bread dough mixed with caramel and butter. Want one?”

I nod so enthusiastically that my head nearly falls off. “I think I orgasmed just smelling them.”

Lucy laughs in delight, her short curls bouncing around her head. “Then have one and I’ll show you how to make four dozen more.”

“I can’t wait.”

The mini monkey breads are a hit. We sell out of them before eight o’clock and Lucy sends me into the back to make more before my shift is over. At eleven forty-five, Valerie shows up and I’m in such a good mood, I practically tackle-hug her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask happily, squeezing her tight before releasing her.

“I was in the neighborhood. What’s up with you?” Valerie laughs. “Did you get laid last night?”

“No, but I did have pastry-induced orgasms all morning.” I pull a just-baked goodie from the shelf and hand it to her.

Valerie picks off a piece of the bread and starts moaning when the sugar hits her tongue. “Oh my God.”

“Right?” I giggle.

“Is Durand picking you up or do need a ride home? I have a car today!” Valerie says between shoving her mouth full of carbs.

“I’d love a ride.” I pull off the apron and hurry to get my things. “Okay if I go, Luce?”

She waves me off, busy with another customer.

Valerie’s car is an older model Honda and it looks out of place amongst the Mercedes, Land Rovers, and Audis that fill the parking spots outside.

“It’s Tam’s mom’s car,” she explains. “I offered to pick up a few things for her.”

“That’s cool.” Shyly, I share, “Callum says I’m getting a car, so once that arrives, you can borrow it whenever you want.”

“Aw, thanks. You’re the bestest friend ever.” She laughs, then looks over at me. “Anyway, I actually stopped by to see if you wanted to go somewhere tonight.”

My happy mood dims a little. I hope she’s not asking me to go to a party, because the idea of spending time with Astor Park kids outside of school isn’t too appealing. “Well, I have some homework…”

Valerie reaches over and pinches me.

“Ow! What was that for?” I rub my arm and scowl at her.

“Give me a little credit. I’m not taking us to an Astor party. I mean, there might be Astor peeps there, but it’s a club downtown that sometimes allows in under twenty-one year olds, and tonight is one of those nights. There’ll be kids from all over and not just from Astor Park.”

“I’m not eighteen.” I slump down in my seat. “And the only ID I have says I’m thirty-four.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re hot. They’ll let you in,” Valerie says confidently.

S
he’s right
. They don’t card either of us at the door when we arrive at the club later that night. The bouncer runs his flashlight over Val and then me, taking in our blown-out hair, skimpy dresses and high heels, and lets us in with a wink.

The place appears to be a renovated warehouse. The bass is shaking the walls and there are strobe lights illuminating the dance floor. Up toward the front is a stage and there are girls dirty dancing on it.

“We’re dancing in that tonight,” Valerie shouts in my ear.

I follow the line of her arm. Above the dance floor, suspended at different levels, are four human-sized birdcages. In each one there are dancers. One has a girl and a guy who are grinding against each other, and the other three feature solo girls.

“Why?” I ask suspiciously.

“To make ourselves feel good. I’m missing Tam and I want to dance and have fun.”

“Can’t we just dance on a stage?”

Val shakes her head. “No. Half of dancing is the crowd appreciation.” She grins at me.

I stare back at her in amazement. “This seems so unlike you.”

She laughs and shakes her cloud of hair. “I’m not a mouse. I love to dance and show off and this is a place I can do it. Tam brought me here and we tore up the floor. And after, we tore up the sheets.” She bites her lip and her eyes get a little glassy as she recalls a post party romp with her boyfriend.

So Val’s a little exhibitionist. Who knew? I guess it’s always the quiet ones. I’ve never minded dancing in front of people, but I don’t get off on it like Val apparently does. Once I start dancing, I get lost in the music and forget that anyone is even watching.

Maybe it’s a protective reflex—one I learned early when I was stripping at the age of fifteen. But whatever the reason, when the beat seeps into my blood, there could be no one or there could be a hundred people around. I move to the music, not the audience.

“Sure. I’m up for that.”

She looks thrilled. “Awesome. One cage or two?”

“How about together? We’ll really give everyone a show.”

The men at Miss Candy’s loved it when two girls danced together. Just like the football players the other day enjoyed watching Jordan and me fight.

Valerie claps her hands. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

I watch as she trots over to a guy in a booth. I assumed he was a DJ, but I guess he’s the one who controls access to the cages. They exchange words and then the guy holds up one finger. Valerie reaches over the barrier and gives him a hug.

Once she’s done convincing him that we’re a better act, she runs back to me. “One song,” she says, “and then we’re up.” She grabs two sodas from a waitress passing by with a tray full of drinks and hands me one.

Val’s not real patient. She shifts from one foot to another. Taps her palm against her leg. Finally, she turns to me. “Why does Jordan call you a stripper?”

“Because I was,” I admit. “I stripped to pay my mom’s medical bills and when she died I stripped to pay for the roof over my head.”

Her mouth drops open. “Holy shit. Why didn’t you just go to a relative?”

“I didn’t know I had any.” I shrug. “It’s been me and Mom for as long as I can remember. And once she was gone, I just didn’t want to go into foster care. I heard all these nightmares about the system and I figured I’d been taking care of her and me for so long that just taking care of myself for two years would be a breeze.”

“Wow. You are entirely too impressive for me,” Val declares.

I snort. “In what way? Taking my clothes off for money isn’t a skill most people admire.” My mind involuntarily skips back to Reed. He definitely doesn’t think it’s a skill I should be bragging about.

“You’ve got a lot of moxie,” Val says. “And that’s what’s admirable.”

“Moxie? Who says moxie?”

“I do!” She smiles and pulls on my hand. “Moxie. Moxie. Moxie.” I start to laugh because Val is adorable and her smiles are infectious. She grabs my hand. “Let’s go. It’s our turn.”

I let her drag me over to the base of the stairs. The couple has already left and the door to the cage is open. We run up the stairs and climb inside. Val shuts the door behind us.

“Let’s have some fun!” she shouts over the music.

And we do. We start out dancing side by side, doing our own thing. It’s like the video game only a live action one. Guys below us stop dancing and start watching, and their admiring gazes start working on me in a way I thought would be impossible. I’ve had dozens of men stare at me before, but this is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed the attention. I run my hands down my sides and shimmy low to the floor of the cage. Val is pressed up against the bars, bracing against them as she writhes to the music.