Chapter One Isla
“ T his is fucking torture!”
As I spun upside down on the pole, I eyed my younger sister’s red, scrunched face. With a glare at the offending floor to ceiling metal before her, she crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing. Brooke always had a dramatic flair when things irritated her.
After pulling myself upright and sliding down onto my feet, I walked over to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, I gave her my best reassuring smile. “No one said you have to master it the first time. I certainly didn’t.”
She blew an errant strand of blonde hair out of her face. “You know I suck at shit like this.”
“Says the girl with a college volleyball scholarship,” I tossed back.
Wrinkling her nose, she countered, “It’s not the same thing.”
“Pole dancing is about athleticism. Unlike me, you don’t have a non-athletic bone in your body.”
“But you’re the dancer.”
Considering I’d toddled out onto the stage for my first recital at two, she was right about that. I’d taken every dance class known to man from classical ballet to tap and jazz to hip hop. In elementary school, I’d transitioned into competitive dance. Thankfully, my experience was a lot less traumatic than what you saw on an old episode of Dance Moms .
I’d stopped competing when I entered MIT. I now parlayed my former dance background to teach dance classes at a local studio. I’d been chosen to be the lead instructor for the studio’s new pole dance classes. Even though it worked well with my course schedule, it didn’t pay enough for tuition and books.
“It’s not that I can’t get the hang of it.” Brooke’s hand came to cup her breasts. “The pole bangs the hell out of these.”
I glanced down at my own chest that was stretching the limits of my latest sports bra. “I have to agree that Triple D’s aren’t entirely pole friendly.”
“Try having engorged ones filled with milk,” Brooke lamented with a wince.
As if on cue, an agitated shriek came from the carrier in the corner. I held up my hand. “I’ve got him.”
She snorted. “Good luck considering you don’t have what he wants.”
With a laugh, I hustled across the black and white checkered studio floor. By the time I reached him, my nephew’s howls had ratcheted up a few decibels. “Easy, Little Man,” I cooed as I unbuckled him from his carrier.
Like Brooke had anticipated, Henry rooted around on me for a few seconds before realizing I was not his milk bearer. His tiny brows scrunched up while hiccupped snorts of rage erupted from him. “I’m so sorry, Little Man. I’ll get you to mommy.”
Thankfully, Brooke met us in the center of the studio floor. As I eased Henry into her waiting arms, the familiar pang of disbelief rocketed through me. A year ago I would’ve never fathomed my eighteen-year-old sister becoming a mother.
As a four-year varsity letterman and A/B student, Brooke didn’t fit the stereotypical teen pregnancy statistic. The only factor you might consider was absent parents. But that wasn’t our parents fault. They didn’t choose to leave us two years ago in a car accident after helping pack up my dorm for the summer.
At the thought of my parents smiling faces, memories of that fateful day assaulted my mind.
My father clutching his chest—his face flushing crimson.
My mom screaming his name as she unbuckled her seatbelt to try to take the wheel.
The car careening across two lanes.
My trembling fingers dialing 911 before the phone was knocked out of my hand by the sharp descent of the SUV going over the embankment.
The squealing sound of steel being wrenched and crushed against a stout oak tree.
The crack of my head against the passenger window.
The horn continuing to blare long after the SUV had come to a stop.
The metallic smell of blood that seeped through the SUV.
My father’s widowmaker heart attack set off the chain of events that took my mother’s life along with his. If she hadn’t unbuckled her seatbelt to try to steer the car, the medical examiner felt she would’ve survived.
Like I did.
Instead, we lowered two caskets into the ground of the Episcopal church where my father had been a minister. Whoever coined the phrase life can change on a dime wasn’t kidding. I went from a care-free twenty-one-year-old to a burdened executor of an estate. I also became a surrogate mother to Brooke who was almost seventeen. Besides some of our aunts, uncles, and cousins, we were all each other had left.
At the ache in my chest, I turned from Brooke to go to the mini-fridge in the corner. After grabbing two bottled waters, I made my way over to the couch where Brooke was nursing Henry. His dark eyes, that he had inherited from my father, tracked my movement. I swept my fingers through the dark silky strands of his hair—the very same color as my mother’s.
He was a tiny piece of their immortality. A living symbol that the life of one we love is never lost. It was the reason Brooke had bequeathed him with the name Henry to honor our father. I only wished my dad could be here for Henry to take the slack for his dead-beat asshole of a sperm donor.
When my phone beeped, I grabbed it off the desk. One glance at the message and my stomach plummeted to my knees.
This is Paula at Alainn. I’m confirming your audition tomorrow at two.
After sucking in a ragged breath, I texted back, “ Yes! I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With trembling fingers, I put my phone back down on the desk and stepped away. As I started back over to Brooke, anxiety trailed up and down my spine. Absently, my fingernails scraped along the label on the water bottle as a battle waged in my mind.
Stop stalling and ask .
It’s just a little favor .
Oh, you know it’s so much more than that.
It could change everything between the two of you.
Even if you don’t ask her, everything is going to change once she knows about your audition.
As the battle raged on, my index finger continued scratching over the crinkly paper.
“Isla?” Brooke questioned.
I glanced up from the bottle. “Huh?”
Her brows furrowed. “Is there something wrong?”
A nervous laugh trilled from my lips. “What makes you say that?”
“You’ve been obsessively stroking that water bottle for like a minute.”
Busted. My finger froze before I hustled over to the table to drop off my distraction. With my back turned, I could still feel Brooke’s gaze on me. Forcing a smile to my face, I whirled around.
“Isn't it weird how types of water taste different? Like water is water. The taste should be universal. Well, unless it’s like the difference between cold and hot. Not to mention ice water and tap water.”
Brooke quirked her brows at me as she adjusted her nursing bra. “You’re nervous.”
“Am I?”
“You always ramble like crazy when you are.”
A ragged sigh rumbled through me. “I need to ask a favor.”
“You got all worked up for that?”
“Maybe.”
With a laugh, Brooke replied, “I’ll do it.”
I cocked my brows at her. “But you don’t even know what it is.”
She grinned. “As much as you help with Henry, I’d have to be a selfish bitch not to do a favor for you.”
Flopping down beside her on the couch, I protested, “Anything to do with Little Man is a pleasure.”
After shifting Henry to her shoulder to burp him, Brooke asked, “What is it that you need?”
“I need my hair and makeup done. Like really glam it up.”
While she was sporty, Brooke had always been addicted to following trending makeup and hair styles. She was going to college to get a business degree to run her own salon one day.
“Of course.” Furrowing her brows at me, she asked, “But why do you need to be glam for a Tuesday afternoon?”
Although I knew the time would come where I had to tell Brooke my intentions, I still wasn’t ready. Shrugging my shoulder apathetically, I replied, “Just an audition.”
“What kind of audition?”
“Dance,” I answered truthfully.
Brooke narrowed her dark eyes on me. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Unable to look at her, I rose off the couch. As I wrung my hands, I fought to find the words. “I haven’t told you where the audition is because I know you’re not going to like it.”
“Spit it out, Isla.”
“Tomorrow I have an audition at Alainn .”
Brooke’s eyes bulged. “ Alainn ? But that’s a…”
“I’m aware of what it is.”
“Please tell me it’s for a waitressing job.” When I didn’t respond, Brooke gasped. “Isla you can’t audition for a stripper!”
“They’re called dancers there.”
“Fuck the semantics, Isla! You’re talking about flashing your tits and grinding on strange men’s dicks.”
Although I shuddered at both her words and the thought of actually doing it, a mirthless laugh escaped my lips. “I’m aware of what the job entails.” Drawing my shoulders back, I countered, “And Alainn isn’t a seedy club. They have millionaires and billionaires as clients. It’s very competitive to get a job there. I’m lucky I even got an audition.”
Brooke furiously shook her head. “It’s still a strip club.”
Rubbing my temples, I replied, “Once again, I’m aware of what it is.”
“While I’m sure you can dance the g-string off any girl there and work the pole like no other, aren’t you worried about being around men in that capacity?”
With a roll of my eyes, I countered, “You act like I’ve been trapped in a convent. I’ve been with men before.”
“The two guys you’ve dated and screwed are not the type of men at Alainn .”
“I’ve been with three guys,” I corrected.
Brooke furrowed her blonde brows. “Wait, who was the third?”
“Victor.” When she stared blankly at me, I replied, “That guy from the dance competition.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Two epically vanilla guys along with a random one-night stand. I’m sure all three of their ideas of kinkiness were probably doggy style.”
I blushed at her summation. Brooke was right that I wasn’t exactly sexually adventurous. I’d lost my virginity at eighteen to my high school boyfriend of two years. Although he was in the Top 5 of our graduating class, he couldn’t find my clit to save his life. The same could’ve been said of my long-term lab partner in college as well as Victor.
The sad fact remained I was 0-3 when it came to orgasming with a guy.
Holding up my hands in surrender, I countered, “I didn’t see anywhere on the application where I needed to list my sexual partners or my safe and hard limits.”
“You’re seriously telling me you’re not going to lose your shit the minute some random man runs his hands all over your tits while he grinds into your pussy?”
With a shriek of horror, I motioned to Henry. “Don’t talk like that in front of him!”
Brooke snorted. “There’s Exhibit A of you being a prude.”
“I am not,” I argued. “And for your information, the men aren’t allowed to touch us. We can touch them during a dance, but they will be forcibly removed if they get handsy.”
“There’s still the dick factor.”
“I can handle it.”
Motioning around the studio, Brooke asked, “You’ve got a good gig here. Why would you want to leave?”
“The pay is abysmal when it comes to grad school tuition.”
“Becoming a stripper will fuck with your future,” Brooke stated.
This time I didn’t bother arguing about her cussing in front of Henry. Instead, I exhaled a shaky breath. “This is me we’re talking about. The scientist in me would never embark on anything without testing many theories.”
And that was the truth.
Dance might’ve been my hobby, but science was my passion. Growing up, I’d been the nerdy girl always reading or doing STEM activities. In high school, I earned the nickname Bernadette from the character in The Big Bang Theory. Since she was a smart scientist who was blonde with big boobs, I suppose it wasn’t too much of an insult.
My parents had always supported my future in the sciences. The day I’d gotten my acceptance from MIT we’d gone out to dinner to celebrate. My scholarship would ensure I wouldn’t be a financial burden to parents or myself through loans.
“I can dance under a fake name, wear a wig to disguise my identity, and only use this studio on my job history,” I explained.
Although she should’ve been satisfied with my plan, Brooke’s eyes shuttered. “Why are you doing this?” she questioned in an agonized whisper.
“It’s complicated.”
Her eyes flew open to glare at me. “I know I don’t have your mega brain, but I think I can comprehend if you explain it.”
“Like I said, I need the money for school.”
“But your scholarship?—”
“Became invalidated after I took that semester off after the accident.”
Brooke gasped. “You never told me that.”
“Since you’d just broken up with Brad after finding out you were pregnant, I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Dammit, Isla, I don’t want you keeping secrets from me.”
“I was only trying to protect you.”
“I don’t want to be protected—I want to be there for you like you have for me.”
A sad smile curved on my lips. “You know I couldn’t make it without you.”
“Then shoot straight with me. How bad is it?”
I exhaled a ragged breath. “As you know, Mom and Dad did well, but they weren’t exactly financially secure.”
While my dad was a minister, my mom was an insurance adjuster. Five years ago, however, her health had deteriorated with a diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis. She wasn’t considered sick enough for disability, so when she was forced to quit work, it ate into what savings they had.
“But they had life insurance,” Brooke protested.
I nodded. “It paid off the remainder of the mortgage, so we’ll always have this house. It also left us both small savings.” With a sigh, I said, “The reason I’m auditioning for Alainn is because graduate school is expensive, and I’ve long since run out of my savings.”
“Then take mine.”
“Absolutely not! That’s for you.” I jerked my chin at Henry who she bounced on her knee. “Not to mention him.”
“You can pay me back when you’re making the big bucks as a molecular biologist.”
With a laugh, I replied, “That could take years.”
“I trust you.”
I shook my head. “It’s not happening.”
Brooke glared at me. “You’d rather take your clothes off than take my money?”
“You’re my baby sister. I could never take anything from you.” With a smile, I reached over to take Henry from her. “Except maybe him.”
As I snuggled Henry close to me, his tiny lips quirked up. “Your Auntie Isla would do anything for you and your mommy.” When I glanced at Brooke, tears shone in her eyes. Reaching for her hand, I said, “Like Mom always said, we’re putting the cart before the horse. Just because I got an audition, it doesn’t mean I’ll get the job.”
“You will,” she lamented.
“How can you say that?”
After swiping the tears from her eyes, she replied, “Besides being a phenomenal dancer and amazing at the pole, you’re exactly what their clients want.”
“A busty scientist whose idea of a good time is curling up with a medical journal and a mug of Earl Grey tea?” I teasingly asked.
Brooke snorted. “You’re the Madonna Whore.”
My eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”
With an exasperated huff, Brooke said, “Yet another reason why I can’t believe you’re considering stripping.” When I maturely stuck my tongue out at her, she replied, “Let’s put it this way: you’re their lady in the streets and their freak in the sheets.”
Warmth flooded my cheeks at the allusion. “I don’t know about that.”
Worry once again creased Brooke’s brows. Since we both shared a wild stubborn streak in our DNA, she knew it was useless to argue once I’d made up my mind. Reaching over she took my hand in hers,“Just promise me if you ever feel uncomfortable or unsafe, that you’ll quit, and we’ll find a way to pay for your tuition together.”
As I stared into her eyes, I wanted nothing more than to be able to say yes. But I knew that regardless of whatever feelings the job might unearth, I couldn’t let it get to me. My goal wasn’t just to pay my tuition. It was to ensure that Brooke made it through school, and that Henry received the most love and care possible.
After forcing a smile to my face, the lie rolled easily off my tongue. “I promise.”