Strip Me Bare (30 page)

“No,” Ryan says frankly, “but I did ask your
brother’s.”

What?
When the hell did he do
that?

“My brother?” my father counters, as
surprised as I am. “Do you know John well?”

“Yes, sir. I designed the logo for his law
firm.”

More silence.

“I’ll be honest,” my father finally says,
“you’re not my ideal choice for Alana. Not by a long shot. But she
was willing to risk everything for you, and because of that, I’ll
give you one chance.
One.
”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Is that
really my father in there?

“One is all I need.”

“Fine then. You can go,” my father dismisses
Ryan.
Now there
’
s the man I recognize.

I step back from the door right before Ryan
opens it. I spring into his arms as soon as he walks out, my body
craving the feel of his.

“What did he say?” I ask innocently.

“Nothing much, just some guy talk. He’s a
really outgoing guy once you get to know him,” Ryan laughs.

“Mr. Congeniality,” I quip.

“Alana!” my father’s voice resonates.

Oh shit.

I look at Ryan wide-eyed. “Are you ready to
pick up the pieces?” I ask quickly.

“Yes, and I know exactly where each one
goes.” He kisses me lightly; liberating emotions I’ve suppressed
deep inside.

I glance at Ryan one last time before I walk
into my father’s chambers.

“Shut the door please,” he says from behind
his desk while concentrating on some paperwork.

I do as he asks, but I don’t take one step
closer to him. I just stand there in my black pants and white
oversized collared shirt. My heels digging into the dark green rug
like they’re sinking in dirt.

He looks up at me with his eyes only,
“Interesting choice of significant other.”

“I know he’s not your ideal applicant, so
let’s just get this over with.” I steel myself against the door.
“I’ll go. Erase myself from your life and never look back again.
I’m sorry I’m a disappointment.”

“Who says you’re a disappointment?” my father
retorts.

“You don’t have to say it. I can feel
it.”

My father doesn’t flinch.

“Alana,” he addresses me sternly, “today, for
the first time, in a long time, I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Losing you.”

“What?” I squeak.

“I always thought you were like me, but I was
wrong. You’re your mother,” his eyes almost look warm when he
mentions her. “You have her fire, and her affection and her
courage.”

“What?” I repeat blankly, because I am
totally floored right now.

“I’m not good at conveying my emotions,” he
says as if it physically hurts to admit his weakness, “But you were
wrong when you said I wished it was you and not her, because the
only thing worse than losing your mother, would be losing you.”

I have become a statue, unable to move. Who
is this man? He looks like my father, he sounds like my father, but
the words he’s speaking are not my father’s.

“Your mother and I had a very special
relationship, Alana.” He looks away uncomfortably. “She was the
only one who ever loved me.”

I step forward rigidly, “She’s not the only
one. I love you.”

I think that was the most difficult sentence
of my life.

My father pauses for a long moment and then
looks back at me. “And I you.” His face is still stoic, but his
eyes are warm pools of chocolate brown; the reflection of mine. And
I know that was the most difficult sentence of his life as
well.

There’s a long pause. And the only sound that
can be heard in the room is the rushing of my blood through my hot
veins.

“What now?” I ask unsure.

“Do you still want to finish law school?”

“Yes,” I reply automatically. “You’re not
disowning me?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

“No,” I answer without hesitation. “But why
not exactly?”

This is so uncharacteristic of my father I
think I might be in shock
,
maybe denial, definitely
disbelief.

My father sighs, “Alana, sometimes it takes
one instant to change an entire life’s perspective.”

“Oh?”

“You walking out that door was mine. So no,
I’m not disowning you. I would however, like to ground you,” he
says dryly.

I smirk amazed. When did my father become a
comedian?

“You said Ryan’s brother died. I’m under the
impression he doesn’t know?”

“I haven’t told him yet.” I wring my hands
together.

“Then maybe you two should talk,” my father
stands up, “You can use my chambers. I’ll utilize Judge Reynolds
until you’re finished.”

“Thank you.”

He walks towards me and my heartbeat
accelerates; this huge, strapping man with salt and pepper hair and
a face chiseled out of stone. There’s no physical exchange as he
stands in front of me, no touch or hug or kiss; just a small,
barely discernible smile. And although that may not mean much to
anyone else, to me, it feels like the crevasse in the earth that
separates us just became a little narrower.

I watch my father walk out of the room and
Ryan walk in. The two most important men in my world, the one I’ve
loved my whole life, and the one I’m going to love for the rest of
my life.

There’s no wavering on Ryan’s part, he
doesn’t stop striding until our bodies are pressed together and our
arms are wrapped around each other. His touch feels so good, like
the first few raindrops in a yearlong drought.

Ryan kisses me over and over again, on my
forehead and cheeks and lips. “I love you, I love you so much,
baby,” he repeats, almost reverently.

“I love you too,” I respond, trying to figure
out a way to break the worst news imaginable to him.
“Ryan-”
I start, but he suddenly drops onto one knee, sliding his hands
down my body.

Oh shit.

“Alana, I know I don’t have a ring, and this
probably isn’t the most ideal place.”

“Ryan-“

“But I love you, undyingly and-”

“Ryan please stop,” I grab his hands tightly,
silencing him; his expression becoming crestfallen. “Ryan-” I panic
seeing the dejection on his face. I drop down in front of him, his
beautiful blue eyes large, confused and close to heartbroken.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” my voice is shaky and so
are my hands.

“Alana?”

I look down, trying to string the right words
together, “They found Sean.” I look up at him gravely.

“Found him?” And now Ryan is trembling.

“He was already gone,” I say in a tiny voice,
“there was nothing they could do.” My vision gets blurry as the
tears well in my eyes uncontrollably.

“No,” Ryan shakes his head vehemently,
rejecting what I’m trying to tell him.

“I’m sorry,” my voice is barely a
whisper.

“
No!
” he shouts, and then the dam
breaks; tears unleashing in devastating sobs.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” I yank him into a
hug. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur over and over, the two of us on our
knees, me supporting Ryan’s full weight as he weeps into my
shoulder; his pain a rainstorm flooding the room.

I just want to take it all away, but I don’t
know how, or what else I can do, so I just give him me; all of me.
All of my strength, all of my love, all of my support. Hoping it’s
enough.

Ryan cries until my knees go numb and my
shirt is drenched with tears. When the last drop of salty fluid
falls, he slumps back wearily onto the ground.

He drops his head in his hands, his elbows
resting on his knees and breathes like there’s not enough oxygen in
the room. I sit next to him so we are face to face, hip to hip; any
closer and I would be sitting on his lap. He sniffles and sighs,
trying desperately to compose himself. I wipe away some residual
tears and wait until he’s ready to talk.

“Are you okay?” I ask delicately.

“No,” he answers truthfully, “but I will
be.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he looks up at me with tear-soaked
eyes and a wrung out soul. “I have you.”

“Yes, you do. And you’re not the only one who
knows where the pieces go.”

“Good, because I’m going to need someone to
help me with this puzzle,” he blows out some hot air and drops his
head again. “Maybe it’s better this way,” he expels mournfully.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because now we’re both free.”

“Oh, Ryan,” I choke, grief-stricken from
their tragic end. “I’m sorry it feels that way.”

“I’m not,” he puts his head on my shoulder
and I place my hand on his cheek consolingly. “He was never going
to get better.”

It’s the Saturday after Ryan’s court
appearance and we’re burying Sean. It’s a cold, cloudy, January
day, the air is prickly and the ground is soggy from the relentless
snow fall. It’s ideal weather for the solemn event happening before
us. There aren’t many people here; Ryan, his mother, a few of
Sean’s friends, my father, my uncle John and Emily. We couldn’t
find Ryan’s dad. I know Sean’s funeral has nothing to do with me,
but my father coming means everything. It’s a gesture; an
indication he’s supporting my relationship, which is encouraging
for both me, and Ryan.

"May his soul and the souls of all the
faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.” Mrs.
Pierce sobs inconsolably into Ryan’s chest as we each lay a rose
atop Sean’s coffin. I tilt my head up, letting the snow touch my
cheeks while the tears stream down my face, then I look at Ryan.
I’m heartbroken over his loss, but so much more grateful for his
gain. Sean told me he was afraid Ryan would end up like him, and
for one split second, in the darkest hour, I believed him. But not
anymore, and never again.

“In the name of the Father, the Son and the
Holy Ghost,” the priest decrees, making the sign of the cross over
the casket that’s about to be lowered into the ground.

“Amen,” is the collective response.

It’s been ten months
since we laid Sean to rest, six months since I graduated from law
school, four months since I took the Bar, and three months since
Ryan and I moved to Las Vegas.

And tonight, it’s the grand opening of
Culture: Las Vegas Strip, the Strip’s premiere Male Revue and
women’s fantasy nightclub.

It’s a 20,000 square foot facility, designed
and decorated by world famous nightclub engineers (who knew there
was such a thing?); set up like an amphitheatre, with a
semicircular floor plan so no matter where you stand, you can
always see the stage. There are several tiers with large bars along
the walls; some tiers are strictly for dancing while others have
tables and couches for a loungeier feel. This more casual part is
very much like the Culture in New York, where half-naked men mingle
with the crowd in their signature shiny blue shorts. But unlike in
New York, the stage is the main attraction. It has floor seating,
which is reserved in advance, usually by bachelorette or birthday
parties, or really anyone who just wants to party. There are three
shows a night each one lasting an hour and a half with Ryan
headlining. Tonight is completely sold out, and has been for
weeks.

Ryan has been rehearsing for the last two
months with professional choreographers on intense routines, it was
never like that in New York, he just sort of went out there and did
his thing. But here, it’s so much bigger and more theatrical. The
tables have definitely been turned, now he’s the one gone night and
day putting all his effort into making this work.

I know it’s unorthodox, his profession, but I
can’t help but be proud of his recognition and hard work. The show
hasn’t even premiered and he’s already being hailed as the next big
thing on the strip. And here, it’s not so taboo, it’s sought after.
But I will admit, it’s still kind of weird. Sometimes I feel like
I’m living in a theme park.