Chapter 46
Troy
A s the limo made its way down the brightly lit streets of Atlantic City, I stared out the window at the neon signs and the casinos that lined the crowded street. Around me, the music was loud and the men were rowdy as we made our way to a high-end strip club. I had zero desire to go, but I knew my father would ask questions if I didn’t, when I was normally up front and center with hundred-dollar bills. It was better to go along with it, and just post up by the bar, away from the drooling men with too much whiskey on their breath.
I felt like I was suffocating in this car, even though it was practically the length of a bus. I could barely look at my father without feeling physically ill. He sat at the very end of the car, right in the center, just how he liked it, with a cigar in hand. I hated how smug he looked, knowing how he had acted at the restaurant we had just left when he had his wife at home. My mother.
At first, it had seemed innocent. We had a private room with our own dedicated servers. I wondered if he paid extra to have these particular two women wait on us. Both had platinum blonde hair and the overly-tan of skin that came from tanning beds. They wore skin-tight black mini dresses and my father’s hands found their way up both by the end of the night.
I had to turn away, tried to drown out their giggles as they perched on his lap. The guy was well over half their age, but they didn’t see it like that. They saw the money. The cash tip they would get by the end of dinner.
The rest of the men in the group cheered him on, like the pigs they were. Jeremy, especially, which made me want to deck him in the face, because out of anyone, he was closest to the family. My mother adored him, but then again, she didn’t have the best judge of character. I could see that now with my father.
I looked over at him through the cloud of smoke of cigars, my eyes watering due to the gray haze. He showed no remorse as the other guys now patted him on the back. My blood boiled. He was such a hypocrite. He was always on my ass about my in-office relationships, or my past flings with whatever new Victoria’s Secret model, saying it would tarnish my reputation. But what about his? Surely, his wandering eye and hands were worse when he had a wife at home.
He was completely shameless. It was as if he was trying to get all the attention off of him, and casting all of his own faults onto me. I sighed frustratedly and pulled out my phone from my jacket pocket. I texted Monica, the only thing keeping me sane on this trip, and it had only been two days: Get me home.
Monica: That bad?
Me: Worse.
Monica: I’m sorry, babe.
Me: What are you doing?
Monica: Writing ?
Me: I’m proud of you. I’ll let you get back to it. Just wanted to say I miss you.
Monica: Miss you too.
I smiled and slid my phone back in my pocket, just as the limo pulled up outside of the club. As the car stopped, my father cleared his throat, demanding the attention that he loved so much.
“All right, boys,” he said, his voice booming. “We’re here for one thing, and one thing only!”
Everyone looked at him, as if they were hanging on his every word. I could tell the whiskey had gotten to him because his cheeks were rosy against the gray hair of his beard.
“Tits and ass,” he said, his voice narrowed and his smile big.
The men hollered and pumped their fists in the air, making the limo rock back and forth. I rolled my eyes and took a sip of bourbon from my glass.
“Each of you has five thousand dollars to spend tonight.” He snapped his fingers at Jeremy, who pulled out several envelopes. All filled with cash. “Think of it as a gift for all your hard work.”
The men cheered as they greedily took their envelopes of cash, tucking them away in their pockets. When I went to get mine, with no intention of spending it on lap dances, my father gave me a wink.
“Tax write-off, eh?”
I laughed half-heartedly and tucked the envelope in my pocket.
“Let’s go!” my father yelled as he climbed out of the car, the rest of the men clambering out after him. I stayed behind as we entered the dark club, the only lights coming from the bar and stage, showcasing the two things they wanted to sell. Booze and women.
Everything was luxe, from the glossy black stage to the chandelier-lit bar with hand-crafted cocktails being served in smoke-encased domes. That was where I would be. I watched as the men rushed to the private booths my father had reserved, taking a seat with their greedy eyes on the women dancing before them, while I hung back and found a seat at the bar.
“What can I get you, handsome?” asked the raven-haired bartender with black inky swirls up her thin arms.
“Surprise me, as long as it has bourbon in it.”
She nodded and got to work, pulling all sorts of mixtures from the shelf above her. A moment later, my drink was served in a glass dome filled with white smoke. I lifted it up and the smell of cherry wafted toward me as my drink came into view, served in an intricate tumbler with a block of ice and the club’s branding etched on it.
“Fancy,” I said, taking the drink.
“Why aren’t you out there with the rest of them?” she asked curiously, as she looked at the group I had come in with.
“Not my thing,” I muttered. “At least, not anymore.”
“Ahh, you’ve got a girl at home.” She smiled.
I couldn’t help but smile back.
“She’s lucky,” she said. “The money is good here, but the men are disgusting.”
I chuckled and took a sip of my drink. My eyes widened. It was the best drink I had ever had. The perfect blend of bourbon, smoke, and sweetness from the cherry.
“Holy shit,” I said, looking at my glass. “This is fantastic.”
“Thank you.”
“What the hell are you doing here ?” I looked around the club.
“Like I said, the money is good. I’m hoping to save up and open my own place.”
“You should,” I said, making a mental note to leave a generous tip.
She was just another example of someone trying to make something of their own. Something they loved. I admired her for it, even though she had to rough it here with ogling men asking her when she was going to get up on stage.
It felt like lately everyone and everything was pointing me in the direction of leaving my job, my father’s shadow. I just didn’t know when I was going to bite the bullet. It was a big decision, and truthfully, I was scared to leave the only thing I had ever known. The one thing I had ever worked toward growing up because I thought it was my only path. I knew now that it wasn’t.
I turned my back to the bar and watched as my father held his hand out and helped a redhead off the stage. She smiled at him seductively as he tucked a hundred-dollar bill in her G-string before sitting back against the booth and watching her dance. Her body rolled in waves, rubbing against him. It made me sick just watching. I sucked down the rest of my drink and ordered another.
When I turned back around, the redhead was leading my father to a room to the side of the stage. She pulled back the curtains and they disappeared behind them. I turned to the bartender.
“What’s that room?” I nodded toward it casually, even though my stomach was in knots.
“Oh, that’s for more ‘private’ lap dances,” she said with air quotations.
I didn’t have to ask any more questions to know that my father was about to cross a thousand lines. I felt my blood boil. I should have stopped him. I almost did, but it probably wasn’t the first time he had done this, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. My poor mother.
I couldn’t stay there any longer. I ended up leaving the envelope of cash on the counter when the bartender was busy making drinks. I hoped it would help her get out of there sooner.
Outside the club, I hailed a cab and went back to the hotel to go to bed. I wanted to call Monica and vent, but I didn’t want to unload everything on her this late at night. I went to bed dreaming of her.
At the meeting the next morning, everyone was hungover with red, blotchy eyes and five o’clock shadows. I was the only one who didn’t look worse for the wear. I avoided any eye contact with my father. Knowing what he had done last night, I had to resist the urge to punch him in the face.
“Where did you disappear to last night?” he grumbled as he took a seat next to me.
“I was shot. I went back to the hotel.”
“Pussy,” whispered Jeremy.
I threw him a look that shut him up quickly. My father chuckled, clearly siding with Jeremy’s views on my partying skills.
“Did you have fun ?” I asked, glaring at my father.
“I did, in fact. Great club. You missed out.”
“I doubt that,” I muttered.
“Is there a problem, Troy?” he asked.
“No. No problem.” I rolled my eyes.
“Then let’s start the meeting.” He pounded the table with the palms of his hands to garner the attention of the rest of the group.
The meeting drudged on slowly as my father talked about the future of his company and the projections to work for now that we had entered the new year. I was about as interested in it as I was in high school chemistry, which I had nearly failed, until my father donated a new gymnasium to the school. I hated him for that now. Always using his money and power to get away with things.
When the meeting broke for a fifteen-minute break, my father kept me behind.
“You’ve hardly said a word. What is up with you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and studying me.
“Nothing.” I shrugged.
“If you have nothing to contribute, then why are you here?”
“Because it’s required of me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry you had to be dragged out here on a private jet,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“To what? Pretend these meetings mean anything when we’re just here to get drunk and prowl on women like pigs?”
“Oh, wow. Look at you. All high and mighty now.”
I stayed quiet.
“No, please tell me how you’ve changed,” my father sneered. “This is rich coming from the guy who fucks all of his assistants.”
“I don’t need this,” I said, standing up from the table. “I don’t need any of this.”
“What does that mean?” My father raised a brow.
“I’m leaving.”
I started walking toward the door.
“Troy, get your ass back here,” my father bellowed.
But I ignored him as I pushed open the door and walked past the others who were pretending they hadn’t heard anything, except for Jeremy who had a smile on his face. To hell with him. To hell with my father. I was taking the next flight home to New York, and I didn’t need a private jet to do it.