Strip Me Bare (5 page)

“Okay, daddy.”

He gets up out of his chair; he’s dressed in
white shorts and a light green polo shirt, which means he’s
probably going to play tennis at the club.

“Have a nice day,” he tells me in a detached
tone, then walks out of the room.

All business, all the time.

Bye dad, love you too
.

I step off the train at 11:38 AM and head up
the stairs of Penn Station. The city, like always, is alive. It’s a
clear spring day as I walk down West 33rd with the sun reflecting
off the high rises. I slip on a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses
and trek towards Broadway. It’s about a ten minute walk to Dean and
DeLuca. Which is good. I need the time to assemble my thoughts.
Actually, I need the time to devise a geometric defense strategy to
protect my heart, because I know today, my emotions are going to
engage in war. For five years I’ve wondered what happened to him.
Wondered what happened to us, and now, almost seamlessly, I’m going
to get the answers. But answers aren’t the only thing I think I
want. Seeing Ryan last night, feeling his body, smelling his skin
recharged the feelings I’ve so desperately tried to repress. I’m so
torn. I’m angry and hurt, and yet, at the same time, all I want is
him.

I’m delusional.

He’s a stripper.

How in the hell would that ever work?

I check out my outfit in the window of the
coffee shop. Skinny blue jeans and a white, short sleeve, eye
hooked top, a slight tease of my midriff showing. My long blonde
hair falling down my back and over my shoulders, it’s a little
windblown, but it gives it an oomph of sexiness.

I pull my sunglasses off as I look around the
room. No sign of Ryan. My heart flutters a little.

I order a cup of coffee and take a seat next
to the window, if nothing else, I can people watch.

I glance at the clock, 12:03.

Then back out the window.

Then back at the clock, 12:05.

This is frustrating. Then I hear his voice
before I see his face, “Punctual as ever.” I turn around as he
glides past the table and sits in the chair opposite me. He puts a
single flower in front of me. An orange stargazer lily. My throat
closes.

“For you.”

I pick up the hefty flower. It’s fully
bloomed and smells sweet. I think about that night in the cabana.
There was a fresh vase of these exact flowers on one of the end
tables.

“You remembered.”

“I remember everything.”

I swallow hard.

Me too.

This is so awkward. All I keep thinking about
is five years ago and Jack the Stripper.

“Nice to see you came fully clothed,” I
quip.

“Are you disappointed?”

“No.”

Yeah, maybe just a little.

“My clothes only come off at night.”

I frown trying to erase the image of him
seducing Emily out of my head.

“Except with you, they can come off any time
with you.”

“Good to know, but I’ve already seen you
naked so the mystique is gone.”

He furrows his brow, “I know you’re upset
with me.”

“Upset is too mild of a word.
Full-blown-pissed-off-hurl-something-at-your-head is more like
it.”

“Like a dumpster?” Ryan teases.

I purse my lips, “Talk.”

“Can I get a cup of coffee first before I
spill my guts? I just got up.”

I look at my watch, 12:17. Slacker.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ryan says.
“It’s an occupational hazard.”

“I’d rather not talk about your occupation,”
I retort.

“Do you want anything?”

“Yes, another cup of coffee,”
and a
Quaalude,
“please.”

“Still black?” he asks.

I nod, surprised.

“I told you, I remember everything,” he
smiles, then saunters to the counter.

I can’t help but stare at him. His tall, lean
body dressed in a pair of dark washed jeans and a clingy gray
t-shirt. His sandy brown hair long and wavy on top and short on the
sides. He dominates casual-sexy.

Ryan places my coffee in front of me, and
then takes a big swig of his own before he sits back down. If I
didn’t know any better I’d think he did that on purpose just to
give me a show.

“You look different,” he says as he slips
into the chair.

“In a bad way?” I shift in my seat, crossing
paths with a sunbeam shining down through the window.

“No, in an unbelievable way,” he slides his
hand across the table and laces his fingers with mine. I really
don’t know how to interpret this behavior. We’ve been separated for
so long, yet he has no issues with PDA. Like we’ve never even been
apart.

“Ryan,” I pull my hand away from his, “I came
here for an explanation, so can you cut the crap and just tell me
what happened so I can move on.”

He straightens in his seat, a worried
expression on his face, “Is that what you want, to move on?”

I stay silent, stoic, because I don’t know
what I want.

“Okay,” he concedes, “But before I explain I
need to tell you something first, because I don’t know what your
reaction will be and I need you to know how I feel. I can’t let you
walk away without you knowing how I feel.”

My mouth pops open a little.

“Alana, I never lied to you about anything,
when I told you I loved you I meant it and I still mean it. I still
want us to be together, and this time I’m in it for life.”

Life?

“Losing you was the hardest thing I ever had
to endure. And now that you’re here, in front of me, I’m not going
to let you go again,” he runs his hand through his hair uneasily.
“Unless-”

“Unless, what?”

“Unless there’s someone else,” he taps his
foot under the table, his whole body shaking. “Someone you
love.”

I laugh aloud, “Someone I love? You’re
hilarious.”

His blue eyes widen, “Why is that
hilarious?”

I shake my head at him as the anger does
revolutions in my chest. “Ryan, there isn’t anyone else. Because
you ruined me for anyone else.”

His jaw drops, “Oh God, Alana, I’m
sorry.”

“
Sorry?
” I respond lividly, “Ryan, I
gave you my heart, my soul, not to mention my virginity and the
very next day you disappeared without a trace. And now five years
later you have the audacity to tell me you still love me and that
you’re
sorry.
Do you think that’s going to magically fix it?
Fix me?” I crack my knuckles restlessly, “I can’t get close to
anyone, because I don’t trust anyone.
Especially you.
”

Ryan rubs his palms against his temples as if
this conversation is agonizing.

Well I can tell you, it’s certainly
unbearable for me. “So, no. There’s no one else,” I say irate.

He slides his forearms across the table
again, a pained expression on his beautiful face, “Alana, I don’t
know what else to say. I never meant to hurt you. You have to
believe that what happened, it was out of my control.” He goes to
grab my hand again, but I pull away.

Ryan looks down, “Alana, please.”

“Please what?” I spit.

“I love you,” the words roll right out of his
mouth, and I swear to God, it takes all the self control I have not
to slap him.

“How can you say that after all this
time?”

“Because it’s the truth, I never stopped
loving you, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Then where the fuck have you been for the
last five years? And why all of a sudden now, after I find you
stripping at a night club, are you so forthcoming?”

“Look,” he balls his hands into fists. “I
wanted to find you, to call you, I just couldn’t. But I swore if
fate ever gave us a second chance, I wasn’t going to blow it. So
I’m here, telling you I’m yours, if you still want me. I know we
have a ton of shit to work out, but I’ll do it, I’ll do anything.
Just please, consider it.”

I’m totally floored. Not in a million years
could I have expected this. I’ve pictured this moment over and over
and never once did I fathom Ryan professing his undying love to me.
Never.

I look out the window, my mind reeling,
“Ryan, I don’t know. Even if I could get over the past, there’s
still the present. I’m not sure I can deal with what you do.”

“It’s just a job,” he responds quickly.

I glance back at him; his cobalt eyes shining
with provisional hope. Before I can say anything else, a strange
voice mutters something over our table. “You’re that dancer right?
Jack the Stripper?”

Ryan and I both look up; standing there is a
brunette bombshell that screams slut. She has all the goods, tight
shirt, tight pants, high heels and way too much makeup for daytime.
I hate her instantly.

“Ah, yeah,” Ryan answers uncomfortably.

“I saw you a few weeks ago and you were
amazing.” She smacks her lips; flagrant desire oozing all over
her.

“Thanks,” Ryan smiles, and it’s sort of a
half-flattered, half-mortified expression.

Miss God Almighty Makeup pulls a card out of
her designer imposter purse. “Is this your girlfriend?” she
asks.

“No,” I answer immediately.

“Yes.” Ryan pins me with a hard look.

My heart throbs.

“Well,” the brunette clicks a pen all
sultry-like, “if she isn’t, I wouldn’t mind being.” She writes
something down, “At least for one night.” Then she slides the
business card across the table to Ryan, making sure to flash him
some skin.

Skank.

He doesn’t touch the card as she straightens
up and then ambles away.

I glare. My whole body is on fire. Pissed
off, raging fire. A moment later, I uncontrollably grab the card
and rip it in two. Then I slam it down on the table. I had
absolutely no right to do that. But the thought of Ryan with her
sent me straight over the edge.

“Just a job, huh?” I huff.

This is bad.

This is so, so bad.

A satisfied smile spreads across Ryan’s
mouth. That freakin’ hot mouth that I want all over me.

“Don’t get too excited,” I tell him flatly,
“I did that for your own good. She looked like a walking STD.”

“So what does this mean?”

“Nothing,” I lie.

“Uh huh.” He’s not buying it.

“You still have some more explaining to do,”
I remind him.

Ryan frowns; telling me whatever he’s hiding
is bad. I can feel it.

“Can we get out of here?” he asks.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere. Bryant Park maybe, someplace where
there isn’t a piece of metal between us,” he kicks the table.

“Fine.”

Bryant Park is about a ten-minute walk down
6th street. That’s a relatively short walk when you’re in the city.
And when it’s as nice as it is today, it feels like a two-minute
walk with all the street vendors vying for your attention. Ryan
holds my hand the whole way, even as we weave in and out of groups
of pedestrians and across busy streets. I know I shouldn’t love it,
but I do.

We finally get to Bryant Park, a green oasis
nestled between towering skyscrapers. The place is absolutely
swarming with people. Luckily though, we find two free chairs, the
green fold-out looking ones the park is known for.

We’re sitting right next to some greenery
across from the fountain. It’s actually sort of romantic.

Ryan pulls his chair right up next to mine,
our bodies as close as they can possibly be short of him sitting on
top of me. He doesn’t say anything; he just leans forward with his
elbows on his knees looking over at me. He really is something.

“I’m going to law school in the fall,” I tell
him, just to break the awkward silence.

He nods knowingly. “That doesn’t surprise me
one bit. You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met.”

“That will be determined at the end of the
day.”

“Based on what?”

“Based on whether I fall for your charms or
not.”

“Which way is the pendulum swinging?”

“Not.”

“See, smart,” he says and there’s a little
bit of apprehension in his tone. “What law school are you going
to?”

“Columbia.”

His face perks up, “The city?”

“Yes, you look happy about that.”

“I am. You’ll be close. Like, very close,” he
smiles.

“And that’s really what you want? For me to
be close?”

He leans into my face provocatively,
“Yes.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I am.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t. Just like I don’t know if I can
trust you. But I’m going on faith.”

“Are you going to tell me where you’ve been
the last five years?”

“Yes. I don’t want to keep anything from you.
It’s the first brick of me building back your trust.”

“So spill it.”

“Will you sit on my lap?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you sit on my lap, I want to touch
you.”

“You can hold my hand.”

“I want to hold your body.” His eyes flash
and my insides stir.