I never thought I’d hate stripping, but I do.
In the beginning, it was fun when guys leered and threw money. They may have thought I was there for their entertainment—which I was—but I always had the power. The upper hand. When I strip, I give or withhold what they want. If they have enough money, I might even give them a little more. In their eyes, I’m a piece of meat, but at the end of the day, they’re the dogs drooling and hoping they might get a nibble. It’s always been a hell of a rush for me, letting them fall all over themselves and beg while I decide who gets what.
Ever since I came back from L.A., it hasn’t been the same. It’s hard to get a thrill from a leer now that I know what it’s like to dance for someone who looks at me like Max did. He was hard and definitely turned on when I gave him that lap dance, but he still gazed up at me almost reverently. It’s like I went from eating crappy diner steaks to a three hundred dollar Michelin-starred filet mignon, and now I’ve lost my taste for the cheap shit.
These days, when I take guys back into the private booths, I can’t help thinking that if I gave any one of them the green light for some touching, it won’t be a caress to my face.
I need to get over it. It’s been almost two months since I came back to Las Vegas. There’s no reason I should still be dreading my shifts at the NightOwl.
At least I’m not working there tonight. I’m at the tables, and I can still work up the enthusiasm to deal cards. The first week or two was a bit rough because I kept catching myself looking for Max in the crowd, but once I’d get into a groove, I was good.
Tonight it’s pretty quiet. Right now my table is empty. For most of the evening, I’ve had at most three people. One guy in particular was in the same chair when I relieved the other dealer two hours ago, and he only left in the last couple of minutes. Poor guy just kept throwing ten-dollar chips on each hand, hitting when he should’ve stayed, doubling down when he should’ve hit, staying when he should’ve split. Dude did not know how to play blackjack, and every time anyone offered him advice, he’d brush it off and tell us he knew what he was doing. I can’t help wondering if he’s trying to blow his cash so he can finish himself off like Max.
Max. God. My mind just keeps going back to him. Everything reminds me of him. I can’t even walk by the Bellagio anymore and started going a different way back to my car from the NightOwl. The coffee mug he used, the couch he slept on, the logo on a pizza box from Antonio’s—I can’t get away from him.
This is stupid. We’ve been apart longer than we were together. Leaving was hard, but it was the right thing to do, and sooner or later, my idiot brain will catch up.
On the bright side, meeting him shook me out of that apathy I’d developed toward the homeless on the Strip. A week after I got back, I started volunteering at the homeless shelter twice a week. It isn’t much, but I hope it helps them as much as it soothes my conscience.
I absently play with a couple of five hundred-dollar chips just to give my restless hands something to do. I could really stand for the casino to get a hell of a lot busier so I don’t have quite so much downtime right now. The tips would be nice too. But mostly, I’d like to have something to do besides—
Someone slides into the chair directly across from me, and I instantly put on my game face and—
Blink.
Stupidly.
“Max?” I manage after a couple of mute seconds. “What are you doing here?”
He smiles shyly, brow pinched like it is whenever he’s nervous. “I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes. Either here, or if you’ve got a break coming up.” He swallows. “If…you want to talk, I mean.”
I’m so shocked that he’s even here, I haven’t decided yet if I want to take him up on it, or if it’s a good idea. “What… What about?”
He holds my gaze. “I think you know.”
My heart speeds up. The unspoken “us” is so loud, I’m surprised the scattered crowd of gamblers doesn’t collectively turn and stare. “We… Max, there’s no point. We’re—”
“Just hear me out. Please. After that, if you want me to go, I will.” He shows his palms. “Promise.”
Fuck. Fuck. This is not going to help me get over him.
But the sooner we get it over with, the sooner I can get back to trying. So, I turn and wave for Kelly, the pit boss. She switches me out with Kenny, a dealer who’s still learning the job, and she hovers over him while I step out with Max.
Privacy is hard to come by in a casino, and I can’t take him into the restricted areas for employees, so I settle for the parking garage. We’re still in plain view of several eyes in the sky, but at least we’re not on the crowded casino floor.
“Okay.” I fold my arms across my chest and face him. “So, what’s this about?”
He takes a deep breath. “I had a job interview today.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “In Henderson.”
I blink. “As in, just-down-the-road Henderson?”
Max nods. “They made me an offer.” He sets his jaw and holds my gaze. “And it’s up to you if I accept it or not.”
“I…” I shake myself. “I’m not following. What’s going on?”
He studies me. Then he exhales, and it’s like he’s exhausted just from holding himself upright. He stays on his feet, but sways a little like he just wants to collapse. “I’m miserable in L.A. It’s…” He shakes his head. “It’s not home anymore. I’m not sure if it ever really was. Or if I’ve ever known what that even means. For sixteen years, I lived and breathed my career to the point that I stopped living at all. Being with you was…” He swallows again and looks me in the eye. “That was the closest to alive I’ve ever felt.”
I’m completely speechless, my heart thumping and my stomach flipping over and over.
He goes on. “I thought at first it was because I’d come so close to suicide. Anything that wasn’t dying or being on the street is pretty good. Except…it was more than that. Looking back, I realized I’ve been living in black and white, and suddenly you showed up in Technicolor.” He’s struggling to hold my gaze, and his voice wavers as he says, “I want the color back.”
All the air gets lost on its way to my lungs.
Max moistens his lips. “If you aren’t interested, say the word, and I’m on my way back to Los Angeles.” He steps a little closer, which makes it even harder to breathe. “But if you want to give this thing a shot, I’m here.”
I cough into my fist. “Is… Is it even a job you want?”
“It’s a paycheck.” He shrugs. “There’s only two things I want right now—stability, and you. If it turns out it’s not a job I want to do forever, I can get another one. But there’s only one you.”
I’m mute again for almost a minute and finally sputter, “You came all this way and found a job…just so you can be with me?”
Max nods.
I want to ask him why. I want to ask him what the hell he’s thinking. I want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and ask him how in the world this seemed like a good idea.
But he’s looking at me like that again.
The way he did at the club. On the beach. Right before I left. He’s looking at me like nothing else exists in his entire world.
Like there’s nothing else he wants.
I clear my throat again, this time to get rid of the sudden ache. “You’re crazy.”
He laughs quietly, and shrugs. “So I’ve been told.” Sobering, he inches a little closer, and his voice is low and serious when he speaks again. “I was crazy for letting so many years of my life go by. And with as much as I’ve been hurting since you left, I know I’d be crazy not to at least try this. I don’t know if we can make it work. I just know I have too many regrets already, and I don’t want to add letting you go to that list.” He pauses. “If it’s a no, then say the word, and I’ll leave. That’s why I haven’t accepted the job offer. I only want this if you do too.”
Tears prick at my eyes. “You… You’re serious about all this. I’ve never even been worth someone’s effort as a boyfriend, but you…really came back…for me?”
“You’re absolutely worth the effort. I couldn’t forget about you and move on, and it’s because I don’t want to. I want to put in the effort and see what this can turn into.” In a shaky whisper so soft I barely hear it, he adds, “I’ve missed you, Adrian. More than you can imagine.”
“No, I…” I step closer and slide a hand around the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure I can.”
And just like that, I’m back where I’ve been dying to be for the last few weeks—wrapped up in Max’s arms with his lips pressed to mine. I don’t remember him ever holding me quite this tight, but I’m not about to complain.
Don’t you dare let me go this time.
The kiss lasts for God knows how long, but much too soon, he breaks it and touches his forehead to mine. “So, does this mean I should take the job?”
I laugh, and a few tears slip free. “Yeah. It does.”
He smiles against my lips, then kisses me again.
When we finally loosen our embrace, our eyes meet. His are as wet as mine, so I don’t feel quite as ridiculous now.
“I, um…” I clear my throat and glance back toward the elevators. “I can probably get my boss to let me out early. It’s pretty dead tonight.”
“It’s up to you.” He smiles and caresses my face, sending a shiver all the way down to my curling toes. “I’m staying a couple of blocks off the Strip, but it’s not too far. I can meet you later if—”
“No.” I shake my head. “As much as I’ve been dying to see you again, I’d rather not wait.”
Max smiles again. “Your call.”
I kiss him once more, then gesture toward the elevators. “Let me go up and weasel out of my shift. Then maybe we can go back to my place.”
The smile turns to a grin. “I like that idea.”
“I’ll be right back.”