“Ashley!” I call out as the love of my life runs headlong through a side door and disappears. The man blocking my way crosses his arms and plants his feet. “Please. I need to talk to her.”
“Sorry mate. The law says you can’t have any access to the girls. You need to leave.”
“I’ll pay you.” I make to push past, but he grabs my arm. “I’ll pay you any amount. Just let me talk to her.”
“Seems she doesn’t much want to talk to you, dig? You go on out the front and we won’t call the cops.”
“Listen.” I drop my arm and step back, fighting to get my panic under control. I only have a few seconds before she’ll be gone, and I don’t want to have to hang around a strip club to see her again. “I don’t mean her any harm. If you let me through so I can talk to her, I’ll write you a cheque for the full value of this club.”
“Yeah, right.” The man laughs and looks at me like I’ve had one too many beers. “She must be a sweet lay for you to be so keen. But my club ain’t for sale, Tiger.”
“I don’t want to buy your club. I’ll pay you the amount to just let me through. Please. I’m out of time.”
He frowns. Hurry up and let me through, you idiot. “You’ll pay me two million dollars if I look the other way while you run through that door?”
“Yes. As soon as I can I’ll come back and pay. You have my word.” My thoughts are jumbled and I’m breathing heavy like I just ran a marathon. Inside my head I see a vision of Ashley disappearing around a corner and blending into the busy Thursday night shopping crowd.
My nemesis shrugs. “I think you’re full of shit, but this is the most exciting thing to happen around here in ages.” He steps aside and I run past, lunging for the door where Ashley disappeared. His voice carries after me. “You hurt her, I’ll hurt you!”
ASHLEY
He wants the baby. He must have found out about Zeke.
I sit in my car in the carpark crying and hyperventilating. I’m bent over the steering wheel, trying to see clearly enough to start the car. In my panic I wonder how fast Kent could get out the front of the club and find his way back here to the carpark. When I came to audition two nights ago it took me ten minutes to find the entrance and I had specific written instructions.
I think I’m safe.
Which is lucky because I can’t stop crying and I certainly can’t drive. The thought of Kent taking Zeke away is devastating, and one that hadn’t occurred to me until I saw that lopsided grin and those eyes staring up at me from the seat in the club. All of a sudden, my brain exploded with all the awful possibilities and I finally gave into the urge I’d been fighting all night.
The urge to run.
An urge that returns when I see Kent burst from the side entrance of the club.
“What the?” Words fail me. I don’t even have the common sense to lean my elbow on the button to lock the door. I watch as he runs right by me and out onto the street. Then I slither down, trying to make myself invisible a few minutes later when he walks back past my car and sits on the top step, his dejected stance confusing me. His head drops into his hands and his back shakes.
Almost like. No. He can’t be crying.
But he is crying. It’s as obvious as the bunny tail digging sharply into my tailbone inside my jeans while I sit here, unable to leave and unable to tear my eyes away.
Even with his face hidden, he’s as attractive as ever, broad shoulders slumped over in what can only be described as misery. I don’t need to see his face to know what he looks like. Every curve is chiselled into my memory as though I’ve stared at his photo for weeks. That’s another thing I regretted about New Year’s. We never took a selfie together for me to remember him by. For me to show Zeke.
My tears dry as I watch, simultaneously wanting him to leave and to look up and find me staring. Heartache—a familiar feeling for me lately—blooms in my chest and I let out a racking sigh. For better or for worse, I can’t watch Kent like this, and I can’t leave him.
I can’t.
I slide the keys from the ignition and quietly open the door. I push it shut and walk toward the man who is now staring forlornly at the ground between his shoes. My feet are bare and I ignore the tiny stone that digs into my heel. When I stop in front of him, his back tenses and his head slowly lifts, his eyes moving from my toes, right up to my face.
“Hey,” I say. “I’ve missed you.”