Monday morning, I sat at my dad’s desk in his home office, rubbing my thumb back and forth across the screen of my phone, reminiscing about the weekend.
I needed to call Mark; I needed to tell him that I wanted him to buy me out of the house. But I was daydreaming about Paxton.
The rest of the weekend in Denver had been exhausting.
Paxton and Solara had treated all of the Denver crew to dinner Saturday night. I’d listened attentively to all of their unique stories, enthralled by their colorful past—sometimes crass, sometimes endearing, but completely authentic.
I’d tried so hard not to stare at Paxton, but it was difficult not to. He’d been so much more relaxed. I loved the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and his face softened.
Story had sat next to me at dinner, and I’d asked her if she would help me with an exotic routine.
“Are you kidding me? Heck yes! I would love that.”
Her response had surprised me. I hadn’t expected her to be so enthusiastic, and I told her so.
“Why would you think that?”
I’d fiddled with the napkin on my lap. “You didn’t seem too keen about me in Houston.”
She’d stared at me blankly and jerked her head forward. Then she shook it and blinked rapidly. “What? I’m so sorry. I don’t even really remember Houston; it’s kind of a blur to me. My family is going through a difficult time. If I gave you the impression that I didn’t like you or disregarded you, I am so sorry.”
My phone had pinged in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked down to see it was Paxton. A grin had spread across my face. I’d looked up to see him completely engaged in a conversation.
Story was briefly pulled into another conversation so I texted him back. I waited to see if he would look at his phone.
I didn’t wait long. He glanced at it, smiled briefly, and went back to his conversation.
We went back and forth a few times, flirting and lamenting about how we wanted to be anywhere but at dinner.
In the truck, on the way back to the hotel, I’d texted him from the front passenger seat: I’m going to do an exotic in Irvine
Solara had sat in the backseat, talking about the show in Phoenix next weekend. I’d heard her say things like “one day,” “small,” and “easy.” But I’d been more distracted by the dark look that had come over Paxton’s face at my last text.
When we stopped at a light, he texted: Why?
Solara abruptly interrupted my thoughts. “You two know you aren’t being subtle, right?”
I dropped my head and grinned.
He reached across the center console and grabbed my hand.
Instead of going to my room that night, we’d sat in the atrium and talked. Solara had hugged us both, said good night, and gone up to her room alone.
I’d sat on the couch, legs pulled up under me, facing him.
After the cocktail waitress had delivered our wine, I asked him why he was so upset by my comment.
His head was resting on the back of the couch, and he was holding my hand in his lap. He rolled his head over to look at me.
“You know you don’t have to dance.”
His comment hurt me. I didn’t need anyone else in my life disapproving of me.
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”
He reached his hand up and held my cheek in his palm. His thumb caressed my cheekbone, and I reached up to keep his hand in place.
Scooting closer to me, he said, “I’m just saying, you don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You are exquisite just as you are.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I was falling for him. I was falling hard.
“I need it for me, Paxton.” I leaned down to kiss him and whispered against his lips. “I need it for me.”
When he was silent, I continued. “Are you worried about me being like Myla?”
The sad look he gave me told me I was close to right.
I squeezed his hand tightly and said, “I can’t pretend to know what motivated her, but I’m not doing this for attention. I really am doing it just for me.”
He whispered back, “I’m not comparing you.”
I looked at him with an amused expression, and he laughed.
“I’m not.”
He kissed my fingers and added, “If you want to do an exotic, then you should do it.”
He pulled me under his arm, snuggled me up alongside him on the couch, and kissed the top of my head.
We each went to our own rooms that night, lingering only a little longer before saying good night. The next morning, he was all business again.
He had helped us with our luggage, checked us in at the airport, and driven me home after we landed back in Phoenix. He was the perfect gentleman—until he wasn’t. And that was fine with me.
A tiny woodpecker landed on the windowsill, pecking its beak against the window frame and jarring me out of my daydreaming.
Sitting up straight in my dad’s chair, I turned on my phone and called Mark.
He answered right away, and I asked him if this was a good time to talk.
“Yeah, yeah, just let me close my office door.”
I waited a second for him to get settled, and he asked me how I was doing.
“I’m good. It’s nice to be home.” He sighed heavily, and I rushed on. “I’d like for you to buy me out of the house, Mark. I can get Suzanne to pull everything together for us. You can keep all the furniture. I’ll send movers for the rest of my things in a few weeks.”
“Do you have a place to stay yet?”
“No, I was in Denver for the whole weekend, so I didn’t give it much thought. I’ll stay with my parents for a bit and start looking in a week or two.”
Our conversation was so dry, so unemotional. Like we’d been business partners instead of lovers. Thinking of being lovers brought Paxton to mind, and I relaxed.
“Charlie, I’m going to be honest here, I don’t really understand what happened. One minute we were fine, and the next, you’re gone.”
“I can’t explain it, Mark. I don’t know what else to say. Honestly, I just… broke.” I flailed my hand in the air in frustration. “But I can’t go back.” I rushed on. “I don’t want to go back.”
There was silence on the other line.
“Charlie, do you love me?”
My stomach clenched. Hot tears pricked my eyes. “No.” A thick tear fell. “I’m so sorry.”
“Did you ever?”
“Mark, please. It doesn’t matter now.”
His voice was soft. “It matters to me.”
Could I lie? Did I even know? I think I did. I couldn’t hurt him anymore. “I did, Mark. I did love you.” I remembered good times that we’d had together and knew it wasn’t fair for me not to explain. “I felt like you didn’t really see me anymore though. When I started taking classes and hiding it from you, I think I knew you would never approve. After dinner the night I met you after a class, when you told me I couldn’t do the competition, I felt trashy. Not because of the competition, but because of your words. Your words and your tone made me feel bad about the dancing. Not the dancing itself.”
He was silent on his end, and I continued. “I can’t go on with you, Mark. I can’t be with you knowing you are silently judging me.”
Neither one of us spoke for a moment.
Mark cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about the house. I’ll get with Suzanne and take care of everything for you.”
“Thank you, Mark.”
“Will you be at the gala in a few weeks?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
“We don’t need to make any formal announcement. I’ll let you tell whoever you want.”
I nodded—not trusting my voice—and then I realized he couldn’t see me. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
This was awkward now. “Well, I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“Take care, Charlie.” And he hung up.
Absentmindedly, I sat staring out the window, sitting completely in the moment. Despite the call with Mark, peace settled in my heart. All of the desert flowers in my parents’ backyard appeared more colorful, the cacti greener, and I started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
There was a knock on the doorframe of the office, and I turned to see my mom. “Charlotte, are you okay?”
I caught my breath and controlled the laughter. “I’m great!”
“Are you sure? You seem a little hyper.” She approached me tentatively, holding out a mug of coffee.
“I’m so good, Mom. I am so good!” I looked heavenward.
“Was that Mark on the phone?”
“Yes, and I think we’re going to be okay,”
“Are you getting back together?” Her voice was high, shocked.
I spoke quickly. “No, no! I just meant… I think we’ll be able to move on amicably. He sounded sad, but he also sounded resigned. And I’ve known him long enough to know when he’s done with something.”
She curled up in the corner of the leather sleeper sofa. In a conspiratorial tone, she said, “And what about the man who dropped you off last night?”
My cheeks grew warm and I shrugged. “That was Paxton. He owns the studio. He’s my boss.”
“Uh-huh. I don’t recall you ever kissing any of your other bosses.”
“I thought you were asleep.” I twirled back and forth in the chair, grinning at her. “And how do you know he kissed me?”
She started to laugh. “You just told me.”
I picked up my dad’s stress ball and threw it at her. “I don’t know why I still fall for that.”
“You look shiny this morning.”
She wasn’t wrong; I felt shiny this morning.
Last night when I arrived home, all the lights had been turned off. I’d thought my parents were sleeping. Apparently not.
Solara and Paxton had both had their vehicles at the airport. Solara lived in a loft downtown, so Paxton had offered to drive me home.
As we’d gathered our bags from baggage claim, Solara had asked me, “Charlotte, will I see you tomor—”
“I told her to come in on Tuesday. She needs some time to get settled.” Paxton said.
Solara wasn’t fazed at all by his declaration. She’d hugged me, given me a kiss on the cheek, and told me she would see me then.
After pulling into my parents’ driveway, Paxton had shut off the engine, and we’d sat quietly in the car talking about the week.
“Take your time, Charlotte. Come in on Tuesday when you’re ready.”
“There’s a show this weekend, right?”
“Yes, and you’ll do great.” He had turned in his seat and was leaning up against the door, watching me.
“What?”
“I just can’t believe you’re sitting here.”
“Are you… happy about that?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “A little.”
My heart raced, and I’d wanted to crawl over the center console into his lap. However, he’d turned and opened his door, jumping out and getting my bags out of the back.
Sighing at having to leave our intimate cocoon, I’d directed him to the front door.
We’d entered quietly, and he’d put all my suitcases in the front entry. He’d whispered, “This is a nice house.”
I’d whispered back, “Thank you.”
“Where’s your room?”
He’d wrapped his arms around me and started nibbling on my neck.
In a hushed tone, I said, “I’m not showing you.”
“Where are we gonna make out?”
“In the living room, where all good daughters make out with their boyfriends.”
Laughing, he’d lifted me up against him and walked me backward into the living room. When he pulled me down next to him on the couch, he’d said, “This is fun. It’s like high school.”
He slid his hands under my shirt, and I got goosebumps from his feather-light touch.
“We could go to your house,” I purred as his thumb brushed over my nipple and it perked to attention.
He’d hesitated a moment before simply responding, “We could.”
We’d made out on the couch until I’d found myself yawning.
Kissing my belly, he’d said, “We should do something a little more rigorous next time so you don’t fall asleep on me.”
“I’m so sorry. I just got so sleepy.”
“I know you’re tired. “
As he planted gentle kisses all over my face, I’d felt myself just melt into the couch.
“I’ll let you rest.”
I’d felt a draft between us and realized he was standing to leave.
“I’ll walk you out.”
He held his hand out to me, and we walked to the front door together, holding hands.
Taking me into his arms, he grabbed my face and kissed me deeply, consuming me, claiming me. I held on to his belt buckle, pulling him into me.
Slowly, he’d pulled back and whispered, “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
I’d slept so well after that. Now I was being interrogated by my mom, who’d tricked me into spilling my guts.
“I am shiny today, aren’t I?” I grinned a cheesy grin.
She stood from the sofa, saying that she was going to a yoga class and my dad had a business dinner that night, so I was on my own.
I spent the rest of the day unpacking my things and looking for a townhome or rental. Eventually, I would need to think about a real job again.
Tuesday morning, I arrived at the studio and was greeted by both Solara and Story. They both shouted, “Welcome to your first day! Yay!” Then they handed me a tall coffee.
I felt ridiculous and welcomed. “Thank you. Where do I put my things?”
Solara stepped out from behind the desk. “Come with me, I’ll show you.”
I followed her up the stairs to a small kitchen and break room. It was painted a comfortable blue-gray, and a couch sat against the sidewall, facing a mounted TV. Against the back wall were lockers for my things. A cherrywood table (with four cream-colored leather chairs surrounding it) sat in the middle of the room.
“There are some girls that work in the evenings, and I wouldn’t want your stuff to disappear.” Solara rushed on, rambling.
“Not that I don’t trust them, but… well, you just never know.”
Carefully placing my bag in one of the lockers, she waited until I was ready and then showed me where to find coffee and snacks.
“Let’s go back downstairs. Story will walk you through the classes, the reservation system, and show you everything that needs to be done to get ready for the event this weekend.”
I followed her back down the stairs and saw that Paxton had arrived. He was leaning casually against the front desk, speaking softly with Story. Now that I knew their history, it didn’t bother me so much, but I did feel a little jealous at their apparent comfort with each other.
When he looked up and saw us, his face softened, and a small smile formed on his lips. Standing up straight, he asked if I’d gotten settled all right.
I tried not to fidget.
“I did. I’ll stay at my parents’ for a bit and then start looking for a place—once I figure out what I’m going to do. Long term, that is. I mean, I know this job is only for a couple of months, so I do have to figure out what to do after.”
The three of them were all staring at me. Paxton’s smile grew bigger, and Story looked at me like I’d grown a third eye. I took a deep breath and spoke, “I got settled just fine. Thank you.”
Solara started to laugh. “Paxton, don’t you have boss stuff to do?”
“Why, yes, Solara. I do.” He turned to Story. “Do you want to take care of that other thing tomorrow afternoon?”
She nodded solemnly. I lowered my head, not wanting to intrude on the rest of their private conversation.
He rapped his knuckles on the counter, hitched his bag up higher on his shoulder, and headed toward the stairs. It was all I could do not to follow him with my eyes. Instead, I stepped behind the counter, smiled at Story, and told her I was ready to learn.
It was her turn to laugh at me. “Enthusiastic, I see.”
“I want to get to the part where we can choreograph my dance.” I beamed at her.
Solara turned to follow Paxton up the stairs, and Story started my training by showing me the computer system.
The day passed by quickly. Story showed me how to work the computer systems, schedule classes, bill people, and check them in. I met almost a hundred people in just one day: a whirlwind of long hair, short shorts, leggings, smiles, and surgically enhanced breasts. The ballerinas came in to use the gym; the hip-hop dancers came after work. By the time the evening girl came in to work the front desk, I was so tired I thought I was going to fall off the high stool behind the desk.
There was another college-aged girl who came in to clean the studios and the locker rooms. She was quick and efficient; I didn’t even recognize that it was her when she asked me to check her in for the five o’clock floor class.
“Charlotte. It’s me, Vivian.” She was looking pointedly at me.
“Oh, my goodness. I didn’t recognize you with your hair down.”
“That’s okay. I know you’re new.” She smiled kindly at me. “You’ll get it.”
Audibly sighing, I thanked her. “There were so many people that came through here today. I had no idea. Is it always this busy?”
“Worse on Saturdays. But yes, this studio is really popular.”
“I see that.”
“You’re from the Houston studio, right?”
“Yes. Kind of. I took classes there, but I’m originally from Scottsdale.”
She smiled again. A soft, accepting smile. “Well, welcome home.”
The impact of her soft, kind words smacked into me. The simple ‘welcome home’ told me I was right where I needed to be.
I tilted my head. “Thank you.”
She left me to work and walked up the stairs to the second pole dancing room.
After everyone was checked in for the five p.m. classes, I went back upstairs to get my things and leave for the night.
I’d seen Solara and Paxton briefly in the conference room, but other than that, they’d been noticeably absent. I’d missed seeing them. After spending so much time with them this weekend, I now felt abandoned.
When I reached my car, I turned the air conditioning on full blast. The hot Arizona sun had turned my car into an oven, and I waited until it had cooled down before removing the sunshade from the front window.
As I tried to fold the screen back into its tiny, round bag, I saw Paxton leaving the building. His head was down, and he was looking at his phone as he crossed the parking lot.
He didn’t see me until he was seated in the front seat of his SUV, and then his eyes found mine.
My heart was racing. I wasn’t even sure what we were, and I felt a little silly for sitting in my car in the parking lot.
He was the first to look away.
A few seconds later, my phone pinged. It startled me, and I looked down to see a text from Paxton: Do you want to have dinner with me?
I started to respond with something snarky but then realized I wanted this to be real. I wanted this to be something. I looked up and saw him watching me. Waiting.
I simply responded: Yes
Through the windshield, he smiled. Then his response came through.
Follow me.