4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Katie
“So, now what?” Phoebe wonders, eyeing me curiously as she packs up an order of cupcakes for her customer.
“Now, I get lap dances every night, it seems,” I tell her and bury my head in my hands. Of course, I had to tell her about it immediately so she could make fun of me. That’s what friendship is about.
Well, not immediately, because it’s been a few days since the idea came up. Micah talked to Bruce the very next day about stealing me away from the bar for his show. Bruce agreed instantly and without any discussion. He also urged Micah to give me some of his tips in exchange, calling it a win-win situation for both of us. When Micah proposed it to me, I waved him off, though. I’d feel bad about accepting his tips, considering he’s driving me to work and back every day, even on the days that he doesn’t work or starts later than me.
I can’t wait until I have a car again, though. I’d very much like to go to Flour Power by car again instead of taking the bus because the bus takes for-fucking-ever.
When he asked me again, I just couldn’t say no. And yes, I’ve thought about it. Besides the money, Micah is way too enthusiastic about being able to dance without having to deal with sexual harassment. What kind of friend would I be to deny him that? Not a good one, that’s for sure, even though I’m equally sure Micah would understand.
“You find yourself in the most peculiar situations, Katie,” Phoebe says with a touch of empathy, but more amusement in her voice. “Like that one night, we went out and a drag queen took you under her wing.”
I remember that night. It was right before I left Windmeadows for university and the three of us, Phoebe, Harper and I decided to go clubbing for the last time. In one of the clubs, I lost the two of them and a group of drag queens adopted me for the night. Lovely girls, super nice and they looked amazing. They invited me to their flat and in the state I was in, I thought that was an amazing idea. We had a fun sleepover.
Usually, you’re scared to fall asleep first, fearing that the others would draw dicks on your face with a marker. The opposite happened here. I fell asleep almost as soon as I sat down on their couch and I came awake with glam makeup, on point. When Phoebe and Harper collected me at their flat the next day, I looked the best I ever did, despite my hangover from hell .
“Well, my makeup looked amazing when they did it,” I justify to myself. “Now shush, before Luke comes. There are things he doesn’t need to know about me.”
“It did look amazing, but you’re deflecting. What’s really your issue here?” Phoebe hands the packed order to the customer with a smile and checks her out, then waves for Noel, her employee, to take over the work behind the counter.
I adore Noel. He’s a funny guy who doesn’t look a day older than twenty, even though he’s pretty close to us in age, with a cheeky smile playing on his lips all the time.
“I mean, Micah is gay, and you told me he has a boyfriend, so I'm very sure he's not going to pop a stiffy grinding on you,” Phoebe points out. “I bet it's going to be fun and you're just overthinking it."
We're walking over to the more hidden table she has in a corner, our usual spot during my visits. It's nice and secluded but still provides a great view over the café for curious people like me who want to see what’s going on and hate sitting with their back towards an open room.
"Maybe you're right," I admit and grimace. "It’s not going to be the end of the world, I'm just not so keen about having to be on a stage."
"Maybe he'll turn the chair so you're not facing the audience," Phoebe mentions and shrugs, but I grimace. That sounds like even more of a nightmare. "Or he'll dance in front of you, so you won't see them. Just tell him you have stage fright, I'm sure he'll help you out. On that note, are you starting tonight?"
"Yeah," I let her know and lean my chin on my hand, resisting the urge to call into work sick. "Oh god, it's going to be so awkward."
"Honey, just a friendly reminder, you work behind the bar. Pour yourself a shot or two beforehand to loosen up. No one needs to know." Phoebe grins and wiggles her eyebrows.
"You know what? I might just do that."
“There you are, Sis!” I startle when Luke suddenly appears next to us, whipping my head around to him. Since my car is still dead, and Flour Power is only a short walk away from his school, I told him to come here. Phoebe offered us lunch, and from here we can go home by bus.
"Hey, man. How was school?" Phoebe asks him and reaches her arm out to drag another chair to the table. He shrugs his bag off his shoulder and sits down, eying the donut on my plate that I haven't gotten around to eating yet. I slide the plate over to him wordlessly and he thanks me with a grin before taking a big bite.
"If was good," he says with a full mouth and Phoebe laughs.
"Come on, Luke, I raised you better," I playfully scold him and poke him in the side where I know he's ticklish.
"I'll get you two a sandwich." Phoebe jumps up and heads towards the counter, while Luke looks at me concerned.
"The car didn't turn over today either?" I shake my head. Before I came here I tried one more time to get it to start, but no chance.
"Nope," I sigh so bone deep I feel a bit of my soul leaving my body. "And honestly, I'm not very hopeful it’ll start by itself again. I’ll have it towed and looked at once I’ve saved up enough, but I might have to take on a second job for a while."
"Or I could get one," Luke proposes with determination shining in his eyes, but I immediately shake my head.
"You have your finals to focus on, and then college. You're going to be busy enough, and your future comes before a car you won’t even get to use once you’re off to university. I'll manage somehow."
"I hate that you're right," he grumbles and takes another bite of the donut. We fall silent as both of us lose ourselves in our thoughts.
"I have an idea!" Luke suddenly exclaims, his chair clattering to the ground as he jumps up and punches the air, making all eyes in the cafe land on him. "Whoops," he adds more quietly and sits back down, continuing in a quieter voice "What if we rent out my room?"
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You haven't even moved out yet," I remind him, but he shakes his head.
"We can move my bed and wardrobe to your room. Think of it, we use our rooms at exactly opposite times, it wouldn't even matter. And you wouldn't have to work more. Plus, you mentioned once you wanted to downsize once I move out, anyway, so it’s just for a few months. It's a genius idea, if I may say so myself."
"You may," I say with a smirk and roll his idea over in my head. In theory, it’s a good idea. In reality, I’m not sure if we’re allowed to do it. "Let me check if our lease allows that first, okay?"
"Sure. Let me know once you find out if it's okay."
"If your lease allows what?" Phoebe sits back down on her chair and places a huge plate of BLT sandwiches in the middle of the table. Luke instantly reaches for one and wolfs it down in three bites. I shake my head at him. Growing teenagers are insatiable.” Are you getting a dog or what?”
"A roommate. Maybe," I answer her.
"Hey, that's a good idea. Maybe that gives you a few more years until your inevitable burnout," she teases, and I stick my tongue out at her. It's not like I have much of a choice. I'd also rather sit home and relax but alas, I haven't found a rich person to marry yet and haven't hit a jackpot. Not that I’m even playing the lottery, because I’m not wasting money on pointless hope. So, what's a girl to do but work more?
"Fuck you," I sigh, the grin on my face telling her I'm teasing. "Let's see if we can even do that before you celebrate my burnout delay."
"Party pooper," Luke coughs, and I playfully punch his upper arm.
"Voice of reason," I correct him. "Now, eat your sandwiches." I grab one myself and take a big bite as I roll the idea over in my head.
"Are you excited? Because I'm excited!" Micah greets me animatedly when I get into his car. He is beaming at me, a smile threatening to split his face in two and his leg is bouncing off the floor.
"Super excited," I say dryly, making him laugh.
"Oh, come on, it's going to be fun! You just have to sit there. Maybe smile and pretend that you like what I’m doing. That’s it. I'm not even going to be mad if you decide to low-key ogle men in the crowd instead." He winks at me, and I roll my eyes at him. “Just let me know which one so I can have a look as well.”
"I'm not going to do that," I let him know, shaking my head.
"Why not, though? Have a bit of fun, I'm not saying you have to find your future husband from the stage."
"I will be doing my best to not look at the crowd, thank you very much." I raise my thumb to my mouth and nibble at the skin around my nail. "By the way, is Marcus even okay with this?" I sure hope he's talked to his boyfriend about this whole thing before it bites him in the ass. The one time I saw his boyfriend collect Micah at the club, he did seem like the jealous type, shooting glares at any man who looked after him. It was a bit unnerving considering Micah's job.
"I wouldn't know, we broke up last week," he says with a shrug and my eyes grow wide.
"What?" I lower my hand again and look at him with wide eyes.
"Yeah, I found out he messaged other guys on dating apps and met up with them, so I booted his ass."
"What an asshole! I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, there were heaps of other issues." Another shrug. "But don’t mind me. It’s over, I’m not too sad about it, life goes on. Have you decided what to do with your car yet?"
"Nope," I say, popping the 'p'. "It's not like my bank balance just exploded overnight, so it's going to have to sit in its spot until I can afford a tow."
"You know what? I'm asking Serena to tow it for you to her shop and have a look at it. She'll at least be able to tell you if it can be saved."
"Serena?"
"I told you I have a friend who could have a look." He cocks his head and I rub my temples. I love that he wants to help me out but he’s already driving me around like a damn chauffeur and I already feel bad about taking up so much of his time. There’s no way I can ask for anything else.
“Right, you did.” I forgot about it for a second. "Thank you, Micah but I really can't-"
"Oh, shut up,” he interrupts me, and I stop talking. “See it as me returning a favor."
“But you’ re-”
“Shush. Say thank you.” I narrow my eyes at him. What favor is he talking about? As far as I’m concerned, we’re even, but he doesn’t look like he’d take any further objection from me.
“Thank you,” I tell him softly, before turning to look out of the window. Now there’s definitely no getting out of the lap dances anymore.
“What the fuck are you two doing here?” I hiss at Phoebe and Harper who have just popped up in front of the counter, dressed to the nines and already tipsy.
“You know exactly why we came here,” Phoebe shouts over the music with a smirk and raises her hand to hold up her index and middle finger. “Two sexes on the beach please.”
I glare at the both of them and, to her credit, at least Harper has the decency to mouth a ‘sorry’ to me. Then it’s followed by a ‘not sorry’ and laughter and I subtly scratch my temple using my middle finger.
Of course, they’d come to watch the whole debacle. To be fair, I'd probably do the same but god, I'm nervous enough as it is. Which is surprising, I never knew I had such stage fright. Then again, I never had to stand on a stage before.
I put their two drinks in front of them and open a tab for them, my fingers trembling slightly and my palms clammy.
Then, suddenly, the music changes and I freeze, my heart starting to beat like a galloping horse. Holy shit, it's starting.
Micah has two songs he dances to before getting his volunteer out of the crowd. I still try to help Jen out, but anxiety paralyzes me, keeping me unable to focus on what I’m doing. After running into me two times, Jen laughs and pushes me out of the bar area. I never knew all of my so-called friends were so full of schadenfreude.
The songs won't end, yet they're over way too soon at the same time. The seconds tick by in slow motion, as I watch Micah’s, sorry, ‘Jack the Ripped’s’ choreography on stage. He looks so much lighter, and happier as he twirls around the pole and smiles at the front row.
Then the time has come. His eyes scan the crowd until he sees me. He jumps off stage to make his way through the crowd and before I know it, he stands in front of me, his naked arms gleaming with sweat and his tank top soaked, his wet hair plastered to his face. He takes my hand to pull me on stage and I follow him diligently through the crowd and up the three steps, then letting him push me to sit on a chair.
It’s like someone else is steering my body. I’m just a witness to what’s going on, but mentally I’m dissociating.
Worried crinkles form between his eyes as he leans down to talk into my ear. "You all right?"
God, I forgot to drink a shot. Or five.
"I'm okay," I say softly, and probably way too quietly for him to hear over the music. So, I add a slight nod. That seems to satisfy him, because he takes a step back, right before the song changes.
Within a split second, he goes from my worried friend Micah to his stage persona, shooting me an arrogant smirk as he starts to move along to the beat .
“What in the Magic Mike-” I mumble but the words get stuck in my throat as he fucking rips his shirt off his body, revealing the muscles he works so hard for.
It’s hot, I mean, he’s hot, yet… sitting here, watching him dance makes me strangely cringe at the same time. It would probably be different if he were a hot stranger but that’s my friend.
Nonetheless, despite my attempts to keep a poker face, my cheeks heat up as he pivots towards me. He strolls behind, casually reaching over to grab my hands and pull them above my head, the heat radiating from his body right in my neck.
“And?” he murmurs into my ear. “See anyone cute?” He guides my hands over his torso. My blush deepens at the feel of his muscles under my fingertips but at the same time… Ew, he’s sweaty.
I shake my head and when his face is next to mine again I murmur back, “Nope. Haven’t looked yet.” I doubt I’d even see anything staring against all the spotlights brightening the stage.
He lets go of my hands and I subtly wipe them on my jeans as I sense him circle the chair. Suddenly, his hands shoot past me, and he grabs the backrest and hoists himself up, his face suddenly right next to mine.
“Row three, to right behind the red-haired girls,” he whispers loudly, then he lowers himself and turns around, suddenly sitting on my lap, facing me, his naked and sweaty chest right in front of my face.
Holy guacamole. I hear Phoebe and Katie cheer in the crowd, and I swear I could kill those two. Where do I even put my hands? On him? In my lap? Under my thighs?
I get a second to breathe when he ventures to the center of the stage for a few dance moves. Trying to sneak a glance at the guy he talked about I squint my eyes against the harsh stage light, but all I can make out is a silhouette.
Then Micah steps into view, leaning down to hold onto the chair next to my thighs as he pushes himself into a kind of handstand before slowly lowering himself until his knees hit the ground of the stage, which he then starts… humping? Thrusting against? Whatever you want to call it, it’s hilarious.
He gets up again right in front of my chair, subsequently lifting me off it with my legs hooked around his back.
“Can’t see shit,” I mumble into his ear and feel him chuckle against me.
“Dude at eleven o’clock has been checking you out. Right at the bar.”
Before I know it, he tips me over and I squeal at the sudden shift, as he lays me on the dirty stage ground. I shoot him a glare, which he pointedly ignores.
“How the fuck do you even see through this light?” I try to see the guy from my periphery until I realize that I’m lying on stage and not able to see that far.
Micah cages me against the ground and lifts himself up on his hands, lowering his body in one fluid motion right on top of mine. Oh god. I raise my hands to hide my face behind them. But when he sees it, he pulls them away with a grin on his face that widens when he sees my glare.
Oh, that little fucker.
He turns to face the other way crawls towards my feet and within two beats of the music, he has his legs hooked with mine and turns us around, pulling my hair gently to make my torso lift off the stage floor.
The crowd goes wild.
No, literally. There’s screaming, dollar notes rain upon us, and even more screaming, accompanied by Phoebe’s and Katie’s laughter, because of course those bitches got some first-row spaces for this spectacle. I wonder how they managed to make their way that far through the crowd.
“You’re doing well,” Micah chuckles in my ear and I resist the urge to headbutt him right into his chin. With love, of course.
“And you’re an asshat,” I mumble right back, feeling his body shake behind me with laughter.
“One more chorus and you’re done.” I see him wink from the corner of my eye. Then he flips me again and hovers over me, doing more thrusting and suggestive rubbing until the song ends.
I breathe a relieved sigh when the final beats sound through the speakers. Once the song is finished, he offers his hand and helps me up. I plaster a smile on my face as I pat the dirt off my clothes.
My eyes wander over the crowd as Micah accompanies me to the stairs leading off the stage when something, or rather, someone, catches my eyes. Right at the bar, where Micah indicated before stands a figure, one I would recognize anywhere.
With a stern expression on his face and sunglasses propped on his hair, Paxton is leaning against the counter, downing the remaining liquid in his glass, before he slams it on the bar top, turns around, and walks away.
What the hell is he doing here?