Stripped (11 page)

“Bet the statute of limitations is long over on
that.”

“Only one way to find out. And there’s no statute of
limitations on child support, which you’re years behind on.”

Tim glared and moved toward her, and Chris stepped
around Abby, pushing him back.

“You heard her. Get the fuck out of here,” he said.

“You want some, big boy?” Tim scowled. “You big dumb
jocks are always slow.”

“Yeah, let’s go outside and see how slow I am,”
Chris challenged, shoving Tim again. When he bounced back up, Tim’s eyes blazed
with fury.

“Chris, don’t,” Abby said, laying a hand on his arm.
“He’s not worth getting in trouble over.”

“This piece of shit needs to be taught a lesson,
Abby.”

“Not here and now, okay?”

Chris looked at her and nodded.

“Okay. But I am throwing his ass out.”

Tim beat him to it, heading for the door.

“I’ll be back. You’re not here all the time, Abby.
And when Kathy’s awake, she’ll let me take them.”

Abby glared at him furiously, saying nothing.

“Hey, you know what?” Tim leered, grinning at Chris.
“You may be hitting that now, but I hit it first. And it was fucking sweet.”

Chris’ eyes darkened as he shook his head and looked
at Abby, who turned away in shame.

“Go downstairs with the girls,” he said.

“Chris…”

“Go, Abby.”

He strode purposefully toward the door Tim had just
vacated, and Abby felt bile rising in her throat as she turned for the stairs.

She was grateful Audrey and Sara were absorbed in
the movie they were watching. Abby sat down on the floor with them, clutching a
pillow with worry. Chris was much bigger than Tim, and she knew he wouldn’t be
hurt. She was more upset about the revelation she had unknowingly made to
Chris.

Every time memories of it rose to her mind, she
shoved them down. She had moved on, and left those terrible nights far behind.
The thought of it happening to Audrey or Sara sickened her, and Abby knew she
would protect them from it at any cost.

About ten minutes had passed when Chris called her
name from the top of the stairs, and Abby flew up them. His hair was a mess and
his gray t-shirt was marked with a streak of blood.

“Chris,” she said, reaching for him. “Are you okay?”

“I boxed in college, I’m fine.” He wrapped his arms
around her, pulling her to him tightly. “Abby…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the tears
that were gathering. His chest was so warm, and his arms so strong, that she
felt like it was safe to cry. When the dam broke, she sobbed against him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

“I didn’t want you to know,” she said through her
tears.

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It makes me feel trashy,” she admitted into his
chest, unable to look at him.

“Abby, no,” he said firmly. “You’re a survivor. It
amazes me, what you’ve had to endure, and how you’ve handled it all.”

“Did you hurt him?” she asked, curious but not
concerned.

“Yes.”

She took a deep breath, relaxing into Chris as he
stroked her hair and tightened his hold on her.

“Good. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, but I
never could.”

As he pressed the bar up toward the ceiling, Chris
exhaled with exertion. He was lifting more weight than he usually did, because
he’d been feeling pent up all week. The agony he’d felt at hearing Abby admit
she’d been abused hadn’t dissipated.

The thought of her as a child, being mistreated that
way, made Chris want to find Tim and beat the shit out of him again. He’d
enjoyed breaking his nose. Tim had howled in pain, which had given Chris a
little satisfaction. Men who abused women and children were always spineless
cowards. He saw it often at work. And he’d also had a closer look at an abuser,
but that was something he never allowed himself to think of anymore. It was
just too painful.

A flare of desire to protect Abby had risen in him,
and it was at odds with his desire to keep his distance from her. He was
realizing why she had so little self-worth; no one else had ever valued her
body, so why should she?

But deep down, he worried that the worst thing he
could do was get even closer to Abby. Let her rely on him and feel the
assurance of being protected and adored. Because when his fear of commitment
came to call, Abby would be left more heartbroken than ever, and he couldn’t
live with himself if he did that to her.

Chapter 7

Sam sniffed while rubbing her nose as she sat at the
vanity with Abby.

“I got $200 for a blowjob in the parking lot last
night,” Sam said in a low, confiding tone.

“You don’t need $200,” Abby said, trying to keep the
disgust out of her voice.

“Well, it’s just fun to see how much I can get. And
it didn’t even take ten minutes.”

“Be careful.”

“I am.”

Sam stiffened nervously as Mickey approached with a
young brunette in tow.

“Lacey, Nikki, this is Roxy, our new dancer,” he
said. Abby eyed the tall, lean woman with long hair and high cheekbones. She
was beautiful, and she barely looked 18. But Mickey was always meticulous about
making sure the dancers were legal, so that was probably exactly how old she
was.

Roxy looked fresh and eager, and it made Abby feel
old. She had been dancing for a long time, and it had gotten mundane a while
ago. She wished she had time to return to the real dancing she’d practiced in
her childhood and teen years. When life at home had been tenuous, Abby had
always found an escape in dancing.

“Nikki, can you show Roxy around?” Mickey asked.

“Sure.”

Mickey stared at Sam, who squirmed under his gaze.
Abby no longer wondered whether Sam was using drugs; she was sure of it. Now it
was only a matter of time until Mickey fired her.

Abby felt Mickey’s eyes on her as she danced, and
she wondered what he was thinking. When she finished her pole dance and left
the stage, he made his way toward her.

“Nicely done as always, Nik,” he said smoothly.

“If this is about my boobs, the answer’s no,” Abby
said defensively.

“It’s not. I would recommend a full Brazilian wax,
though, Godzilla.”

“Godzilla?”

“What? You’re a hairy beast.”

“Please, Mickey. I get waxed every week and there’s
like a fourth of what grows there naturally.”

“I need a favor,” Mickey said with a fake smile.

“You sure know how to pour on the sugar before
asking,” Abby muttered.

“James Rockhold is in the club tonight. He’s a very
wealthy investment banker, a real VIP. I want him to have an outstanding first
experience here so he’ll become a regular.”

“You want me to do his lap dance?”

“Yeah, sort of…”

“Sort of?”

“He wants a bed dance.”

“I don’t do bed dances.”

“But he only wants you, Nikki, please. I tried to
talk him into one of the other girls, but he only wants you. Please, do this
for me. It’s just like a lap dance.”

“It’s not, and you know it,” Abby snapped.

“I’ll owe you. Really owe you. I don’t want to turn
him down. At the other clubs, the girls don’t get to decide what they will or
won’t do.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No. I’m just saying, I don’t want him to think
Mickey’s is less of an experience than the other clubs.”

Abby sighed with frustration.

“This isn’t a fair thing to ask of me,” she said.

“I respect your boundaries, but I’m asking you to
make an exception this one time. For me.”

“Fine,” Abby said, feeling defeated. “One song.
That’s it.”

James Rockhold had slicked back silver hair and a
fake tan. Abby put on her most seductive smile as she led him through the
curtain of a private bed room. Though she had a sick rumble in her stomach,
Mickey had always been good to her and she wanted to make him happy.

She knew the basics of a bed dance, but had never
actually done one. When James took off his gray suit coat and tossed it on a
chair, Abby felt like a prostitute for a sick second. She wanted to leave the
room, but steeled herself instead. It was like a lap dance, she told herself.
But the women who did bed dances didn’t tell their customers not to touch.

“Panties off,” he ordered, his face calculating.
Abby refused to look at him as she complied.

As the music started, she cleared her mind and
focused on the dance, reminding herself it was nothing more than rehearsed
moves on her part. She ran her hair down her customer’s face, chest and legs,
then straddled him and moved with the music.

When his hands locked around her hips, Abby froze
momentarily, wanting to tell him to stop. She closed her eyes, pretending to be
aroused, and lowered herself onto him. He reached around and unfastened her
bra, throwing it to the floor and reaching for her breasts.

He wasted no time, grinding himself into her, not
bothering with the illusion of a dance. Abby felt like she was suffocating, and
hot tears sprang to her eyes. The feel of him against her reminded her of the
dance she had done for Chris, only this was wrong. Everything about it was
wrong. This wasn’t the least bit arousing -- it was disgusting.

His breathing was heavy, and Abby felt like the
walls were closing in on her. As the strange man’s hand smacked her ass, she
gasped at the immediate, scorching pain it caused.

“Fuck yes, you like that, don’t you?” he groaned,
forcing her hips against him.

“No, no, stop,” Abby said, pushing away from him.
She had to get out of the room and into a place where she could breathe. She
couldn’t do this, not even for Mickey.

Her arm burned as his fingers locked around it, and
Abby pulled desperately against him as she stumbled from the bed.

“Get your ass back in this bed,” he ordered. When
Abby looked at him, she saw Tim’s face, and she knew she would vomit if she
didn’t get out of the room.

“Joe!” she screamed, her voice strangled. The pain
in her arm was searing, and she couldn’t stop her tears from falling.

It felt like forever, but she knew it only took Joe
a few seconds to get to her. He rushed at the customer, forcing his hand to
unclamp from her arm. She wrapped her hand around her hot, throbbing upper arm
as she made her way across the club to get backstage.

“Nikki, what happened?” Mickey asked, sounding
aggravated.

“Don’t talk to me. I’m leaving,” Abby said tearfully.
She threw on a cotton dress, jeans and her warm wool coat, not bothering to
find a new bra and panties. Though she had escaped the room, she still felt the
choking terror that had gripped her there.

When she got into the car, she locked the doors and
pulled out of the parking lot quickly. She tried to calm herself as she drove,
but nothing seemed to work. She felt dirty and used, more so than she had ever
felt at the club.

When Abby parked in the lot of the Benedict Emergency
Room, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the safety of her locked car. She
knew it was irrational, but she feared James Rockhold would be waiting for her
outside the car. She reached for her phone and dialed Chris, hoping he would
answer.

“Hey,” he said softly. Fresh tears – of relief –
flowed down Abby’s cheeks.

“Chris,” she said, anguished.

“Abby, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just being stupid,” she said, now sobbing.

“Are you at the club? Do you need me to come there?”

“No. I’m in the parking lot.”

“The parking lot of the club?”

“No…of the hospital.”

“Jesus, Abby, are you okay? You’re really scaring
me.”

“Can you come out here?”

“I’ll be right there.”

Abby gripped the steering wheel as she waited,
laying her head on it as she continued crying. When Chris knocked on the
window, she jumped before she recognized him and reached for the door lock.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head as she
stepped out of the car and pressed herself into him, sobbing loudly.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Her body calmed against his after a couple minutes,
and she looked up at him.

“Tell me what happened,” he said.

“Can we go inside? I’m cold.”

Chris kept his arm around her shoulders as they made
their way through the double doors of the emergency room, down the long hallway
and into the sleeping room that was becoming familiar to Abby. He turned the lights
on this time, sitting her on the bed and pulling up a chair so he was across
from her.