7. Jaelyn
CHAPTER 7
JAELYN
E lectronic dance music blares from the speakers set up around the perimeter of the nightclub. The beats ricochet off of the walls, pulsating between my temples as I walk into the dressing room. Cassia and Velvet are at each other’s throats again. The two biggest pains in the asses on our payroll also happen to be the two biggest stars on any given night. This place isn’t big enough for both of them, and someone made a colossal screw-up when they put them both on the schedule for tonight. Everyone knows they’re never supposed to perform on the same evening, but somehow, here they both are. And now both are threatening to walk out if the other doesn’t give up her spot to be the star pussy.
All of the girls are getting ready for their dance numbers as I storm into the room, my fingertips digging hard into my flesh, my fists balled tight at my sides. I walk right up to Cassia, who, in her heels probably has about six inches on me. She opens her mouth to speak and I silence her with a death glare.
“Cassia,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “Tell me something. Why do you work here?”
She furrows her brow, her lips curling into a smirk. “Because you guys pay the best of any club in Vegas and I make a shit ton in tips.” She pauses, shooting a nasty look at Velvet. “And because you give me top billing whenever I dance.”
I look at Velvet, my eyebrow lifted. “I assume the same goes for you?”
Velvet’s spine stiffens and she sneaks a look at Cassia before meeting my fiery gaze. “Yeah, Jae, this place is the best.”
“So,” I bark. “Since you both seem to be happy with your current employment, are you really going to fuck it up for yourselves? Do you want to moonlight at the fucking Flamingo instead? Or are you going to deal with the fact that someone accidentally put you here on the same night and give the audience what they happily overpaid to see?”
Cassia and Velvet exchange a grudging look, both mumbling something I can barely register. But I don’t really care. As long as they dance, I don’t give a shit how they feel about each other. Or me, for that matter.
They aren’t here because they love what they do. They’re not here to make friends. They’re here to do a job and to collect all of the green that comes with it.
I’m here to make sure they earn every red cent that goes into their hot little hands at the end of each night, so settling little bitch brawls before they rage is a pretty important part of my job description.
I stare at them both, stone-faced, for a long minute before they back away to get ready for their performances.
“Nice job,” Ashleigh whispers.
I roll my eyes at her, biting down on my lip to keep from smiling. Everyone sees me as the big bad bitch manager and I always play the part. Trying to be friends is pointless. I just don’t have it in me to care about anyone besides my brother. Besides, these bitches are crazier than I am. “Come with me,” I say under my breath as I turn to leave the dressing room.
She follows close behind as I push open the door and pull it closed tight behind me. “Hey, so who were those guys with you before?” Ashleigh asks, her voice rising with interest. “You were wearing your RBF, but I could tell you were into the one whom you nearly crippled with your shoe.” She lets out a giggle and I huff at her display of amusement.
Resting bitch face.
Yeah, I wear it well.
And Ash always notices it.
“They were just some guys who wanted to meet with Nate. You know he’s thinking about expanding this place. They own, um, a construction company.” She doesn’t need to know the truth, especially since she didn’t see me canoodling with Sergio last week, focused on my spy game.
“And you impaled the hot one with your heel because…?” She quirks a brow at me, egging me on.
I shrug. “He got a little mouthy.”
“Ha!” Ash snickers. “And in this scenario, were you the pot? Or the kettle?”
“I’m a businesswoman,” I say in a stiff voice. “I don’t appreciate it when men act like condescending assholes, thinking that just because they’re dealing with a woman that they can make, you know, innuendoes. And that the women will just melt at their feet.” I can feel a heated flush creep up the sides of my neck, and Ashleigh can’t help but point it out with a hint of glee in her voice.
“You’re getting kind of hot and bothered over this ‘guy,’” she says with a knowing wink. “Maybe you weren’t as offended as you’d like me to believe.”
“Please!” I snort. “And anyway, it won’t happen again. Nate wasn’t interested in hearing what they had to say.” I turn away from Ashleigh, berating myself for allowing Sergio Villani to burrow under my skin. I figured if I stomped on his foot, he’d go running and I could forget about how he backed me up against that column, how warm and demanding his hand felt as it clutched my hip, how his rough touch scorched every inch of my skin and made me feel things…bad things…dangerous things.
Things I can’t ever act upon.
Things I no longer have the freedom to feel.
I clear my throat. “The reason I pulled you out here was just to let you know that I need you to keep an eye on those two tonight. If either one of them starts anything, I’ll make sure they never headline again.” Good God, sometimes I feel like a glorified babysitter keeping these girls in line.
I let out a deep sigh as Ashleigh hurries back into the dressing room after giving me a quick salute. So many hormones, so many ruffled feathers…and I’m not talking about costumes either.
I deserve a raise. A big one.
And hot new shoes with a handbag to match.
I think I’ll go up to my office and email a list of demands to my brother.
Yes, something to focus on other than Sergio and his big…ego.
I square my shoulders, pushing through the sweaty, writhing throngs of people grinding against each other in one of the rooms off the main club area.
At what point in my life did I ever imagine I’d become the manager of this pussy parade?
I bite down on the inside of my lip.
Then again, let’s be realistic.
I never thought I’d live long enough to see my twentieth birthday after that disaster raged back in Miami years ago. I dig my fingernails into my palms as I stomp toward my office, the only place where I can get any bit of peace and quiet. It’s not in the basement like Nate’s. Mine is upstairs, tucked away from the rest of the club, and the only way you can get to it is by using a hidden staircase. I force a smile for the patrons guzzling expensive liquor and champagne, swaying into each other, drunk, high, and without a single care in the world.
I wonder what that feels like.
Freedom.
I wonder if I’ll ever know.
I unlock the door leading to my private staircase, kick off my heels, and stagger up the steps barefoot. I reach the top and slink into my office, the plush carpet thick and warm beneath my toes. I cross the room and collapse on the large leather sofa, my eyes on the plasma screen hanging on the wall across from me, my reality show du jour looping on the screen.
I am a reality television junkie. I think it’s because I’m so fascinated by the fact that these people openly welcome millions of strangers into their lives, for better or for worse. Good decisions, bad decisions, they let it all hang out.
They hold nothing back. They are exposed and vulnerable for the whole world to see.
Must be so liberating, to not give a fuck what people think, to not worry about who’s watching, to be on perpetual display.
It’s a luxury I will never be able to afford.
I watch the people on the screen bicker about the best way to sell some insanely expensive mansion in the Hamptons, and I allow myself to be swallowed up in the shallowness of it all. It sure beats the hell out of worrying about our cover being blown to bits.
That’s always the biggest threat that looms over us on a daily basis.
It’s one that Nate doesn’t usually acknowledge, at least in front of me. He keeps so much to himself, never really trusting anyone around him. He has no friends because the closer people get, the more they see, the more they hear, the more they ask. He has a crew but they don’t know who he really is, what we did, and how the hell we ended up in the middle of the desert sitting on a cash cow of epic proportions. Our last name is different now, which is the only thing that gives me any peace at all, but realistically, how long can we really hide? Is a different last name going to give us the protection we need to survive?
I have my doubts, but I keep them to myself. I’m sure Nate shares them but we’ve just learned to peacefully cohabitate with our big ass pet elephant.
I let my eyes flutter shut, crossing my legs at the ankles as the reality show drones on in the background. It’s not loud enough to drown out the police sirens, or the screaming, or the gunfire that loops through my mind on forced repeat, though.
Because I have zero control over the darkness that consumes my brain when I drift off, far away from my new reality, however temporary it may be. When my eyes close, it’s like an open invitation for the wounds that afflict my heart and soul to burst open, exposing the grief, guilt, and panic like a nerve.
I bury all of those useless emotions, the ones that perpetuate weakness, down deep, way below my sharp-tongued, prickly exterior. It makes people less likely to want to peel back my layers. I may look like one of the club’s dancers, but I can give a better beatdown than all of the bouncers put together.
My personal defense mechanism has served me well for the past few years. Nobody gets close because I simply don’t let them.
They have no choice.
I make the rules, strict ones that weren’t made to be broken.
They were made to keep me… us …alive.
I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter to block out the horrific images wallpapering my mind. They are ghastly, blood-soaked, and haunting memories of the life we left behind. My pulse throbs harder with each passing second that they bubble up in my conscious, dragging me back into the murk that I fear I will never be able to claw my way out of, the murk that holds me captive, the murk that will swallow me whole if I let it.
The events leading up to that night at my parents’ house still haunt my dreams. I’ll never get a second chance to make things right with them. Sometimes I think I’ve landed in this shitty predicament just so I can suffer the consequences of my actions and words. Sometimes I think I deserve it.
I swallow hard.
It feels like I’m caught in purgatory, in limbo, just waiting and wondering and hoping for a reprieve that may never come.
Every day that I wake up is borrowed time.
There will come a point, hopefully later than sooner, where those last grains of sand slip through the hourglass, signifying that our time has run out.
And when that happens, we have to be ready.
For anything and everything.
I can’t ever make things right with my parents, but I can make sure the people who hurt them suffer the same fate, my last conscious thought as a thick, sleep-induced fog blankets my mind and consumes my body.
* * *
I smooth down the front of my denim miniskirt and do a little side twirl in my mirror. Then I slip on my thigh-high, black patent leather boots, stepping back to examine myself. I flip my long, dark hair over one shoulder and narrow my eyes at my reflection. Then I jut out my hip for good measure, puckering my deep red lips.
A tiny shiver of anticipation runs down my spine, making me quake with glee. I clasp my hands together, shrieking into them as I dance around to the music pouring out of my speakers.
Tonight is the night I give myself to Eli.
It’ll be my first time.
Our first time.
I bite down on my lower lip, scouting my bedroom for my overnight bag. I’ve already told my parents I’m staying at my best friend Maria’s house and that I’ll be back in the morning since they aren’t exactly Eli’s biggest fans. And Eli made up some bullshit excuse to give the club, an excuse that I heard my brother Nate swallowed hook, line, and sinker.
It’s going to be absolutely perfect!
I hum along to my favorite song as I pull open my bottom dresser drawer, fishing around the t-shirts for something flimsy and lacy and red.
A special surprise in honor of the night.
Red is my favorite color.
The color of love.
I’m in love!
Oh my God, who would have ever believed that me, Jaelyn Ramirez, would have ever fallen in love with a nerdy, spectacled, skinny guy like Eli Wilson? Eli, whose nose is always buried in a sci-fi novel or an issue of Omni magazine or something equally geeky when he’s not tinkering around with his bike. Eli, with his unruly curly blond hair, kind eyes, and sweet smile. He’s not the typical biker dude, that’s for sure. He’s definitely not the type of guy I ever pictured myself falling for. I mean, he’s smart, for one. I’m smart, too, but in a street sort of way. Definitely not the bookish type. And Eli can actually string together whole sentences without profanity, unlike the other guys in the club.
He ended up at the clubhouse when Nate helped him ward off two guys from a rival club one night. They were hassling him where he worked as a busboy at a local diner, a real shithole in the worst part of Miami. Nate saw the bikes as he was passing through the neighborhood and smelled trouble.
He was right. And sure enough, it stank.
So he did what any decent do-gooder would — he kicked the crap out of the guys as a message to their club, and gave Eli a job at the auto body shop he runs to keep him out of harm’s way and employed at the same time. It was a win-win for everyone. Eli got out of his dead-end job, making more money than he was at the diner. Nate solidified his control over his territory by sending those two guys running back to their own club with their dicks between their legs.
And I fell in love.
Hard and fast.
Suddenly, my life-long aspiration to become a mechanic grabbed hold, and I spent every waking hour at the shop, pretending to learn every last detail about servicing bikes and cars. I spent hours every day poring over engines, changing filters and oil, topping off fluids, diagnosing faulty transmissions.
I didn’t give a damn about any of it.
I only did it to be close to Eli.
Nate isn’t stupid. He knew the deal and never called me out on it.
I guess it’s because he didn’t ever see Eli as a threat.
I wish everyone in my family shared that opinion.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case, hence the reason why I lied to my parents about where I’m going tonight.
Where I go pretty much every night.
I rub the back of my neck. The guilt knots at the base of my spine, tense and tight and always present. I don’t understand why they just can’t accept Eli, why they have to be such snobs about the fact that they want better for their only daughter. Yeah, he doesn’t have much, but he’s brilliant and funny and loving.
At the end of the day, aren’t those things way more important than money or status?
A light knock at the door makes me jump, and I let out a breath when I see my mother’s head pop into my room. I suck in a breath, prepared with my story. I really hate how uncomfortable things have gotten with us since Eli appeared on the scene. We used to be so close that I’d tell her everything. But lately, I keep everything short, sweet, and surface-level only. We don’t have those heart-to-heart talks I loved so much where we’d sip tea and giggle for hours anymore. I miss that. I miss hanging around with my dad at his golf club, playing nine holes and then going to lunch so he can coach me on everything wrong with my swing.
And trust me, there’s plenty wrong with it. But still, he was always so patient, determined to get me on the WPGA tour.
That is, before Eli came into the picture.
Things shifted when we started seeing each other. I know how they feel about him, but they’re going to have to learn to accept him.
Not that I plan to have that debate tonight.
Tonight is going to be the most amazing night of my life, and I don’t want anything to overshadow it.
Mom’s eyes narrow when she sees me. “Interesting outfit, Jae. Where exactly are you and Maria headed tonight?”
“Oh, we’re just going to a party. One of the guys from school. It’s not a big deal. We won’t be out late, I promise.” I talk fast, hoping she doesn’t ask too many more questions and hurries the hell out of here. I told Eli to be here by seven and it’s almost that now!
She nods, pursing her lips.
“Why haven’t you guys left yet? You were supposed to be at the benefit already, weren’t you? Are you excited? It’s such an honor for you both!” I keep up the flow of chatter hoping that if she can’t get a word in edgewise, she won’t ask me any more questions that she really doesn’t want to hear the answers to, anyway.
“Yes,” she says slowly. “It is an honor, one that your father and I really expected you and your brother to be present for.” Mom looks at me with a disapproving expression on her face. “I think your father is really disappointed that you aren’t joining us. It’s supposed to be a family event.”
“I didn’t realize…” I furrow my brow in confusion. “Mom, why wouldn’t you say something about it to us? We just assumed it was something you were going to celebrate together.”
Mom lets out a sigh. “You know, Jae, sometimes it would be nice for us not to have to coerce you both into doing something. Sometimes it would be nice for you to just offer on your own.”
“Oh, um…” My eyes flicker over to the clock. Two minutes to seven. And Eli is never late. “I’m sorry. I guess I just didn’t, ah, think about it.”
She nods again, her eyes traveling over my outfit one more time. “I just hope there isn’t another reason why you’re staying back tonight, Jae.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, hoping like hell that the look on my face actually reflects true confusion.
Mom sighs. “I know we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye about this whole Eli business, sweetie, but I’d hate for you to use that as a reason for hanging back tonight. You know we only want the best for you. And lately, things have been so tense between us. I feel like we’re drifting apart, and I don’t want this to come between us.” She reaches out and takes my hands in hers. “I love you, honey. I will always love you. I just want you to be happy.”
“I know, Mom,” I whisper. “And I know you’d never want to hurt me.”
I just wish I could be honest with you. But I can’t. I know better even if you don’t.
She smiles. “Have fun with Maria.”
I force a return smile. “I will.”
Mom turns to leave and my eyes dart around my room for my phone. I can stop Eli before he gets here. He won’t know they’re still here because my father always parks his prized BMW 7 series in the garage.
In a few minutes, they’ll be gone and our night can begin.
But a nagging feeling in my gut tells me to do the right thing for my parents, go to the benefit, and to forget about my plans.
Stop the lying, Jae. It’s destroying your relationship.
I tap the toe of my boot on the floor for the couple of seconds it takes me to decide.
I stab a message into the keyboard on my phone, tossing it on my bed before I run over to my closet and grab a black cocktail dress.
“Mom, Dad!” I yell, poking my head into the hallway. “Don’t leave yet! I’m coming ? —”
But my words are drowned out by the loud chimes of the doorbell.
And with each chime that sounds, my stomach drops lower and lower into my boots.
Oh, no…
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dad bellows from the front hall, the sound echoing throughout the foyer. “I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter!”
I race down the steps, gripping the banister tight as I skid to a halt at the bottom. “Daddy, please!” I yelp as he steps closer to Eli with a menacing look on his face.
My father looks at me, his lips twisted into a grimace. “I trusted you. How long have you been lying to us, Jaelyn? How long has this been going on? We told you to stay away from that clubhouse, away from those people!”
“Those people are my friends!” I yell, balling my fists. “They care about me. Yes, they’re different from you and Mom, but does that make them bad?”
“You don’t understand how the world works. I’ve tried so hard to give you the best life possible, and now you just want to throw it all away, just like your brother did when he joined that…that motorcycle gang?”
“He’s not throwing anything away!” I scream. “He is a business owner! At only twenty-two! Why can’t you just be proud of him instead of tearing him down every chance you get?”
“Because I wanted more for him! And for you!” Dad looks at Eli. “You will never be good enough for her!”
Eli nods, staring right at my father. “You’re right, sir. But I love her.”
Oh, Jesus. I can see the smoke billowing out of my father’s ears. “You what?” he hisses. “You love her? Is that what this is?” He creeps closer to Eli. “You meet a beautiful girl who comes from money and follows you around like a puppy dog and you think you can convince me it’s love that you feel? Do you think I’m some kind of an idiot?” he roars, the vein in his forehead pulsating as rage courses through his body. He keeps his fists locked against his sides, and even though I know my father would never hit him, a tiny part of me knows he desperately wants to tear Eli’s head from his body.
“You don’t love her,” he hisses. “You love what she can do for you. What my family and my money can do for you!”
“Marco, that’s enough,” Mom says, pulling him backward. Her eyes dart over to me and she gives her head a little shake.
Dad swivels around and narrows his eyes at my outfit, making me cringe. “So this is the choice you’ve made. You’ve decided to go against our wishes and slum it with this…this…” He looks at Eli, his face beet-red with anger. “This piece of trash!”
“He’s not trash!” I yell. “And you can’t tell me what to do! This is my life!”
“The hell it is!” he shouts. “You’re eighteen years old! You’re a child. My child! And as long as you live under this roof, you will do what I say!”
“Well, then, maybe I shouldn’t live under this roof!” I cry.
Mom gasps. “Enough, both of you!” She tugs at my father’s arm. “Marco, just leave it alone. If you let it go too far ? —”
“What?” he demands, turning to sneer at Mom. “She’ll leave?” His eyes are wild when he looks back over to me. “Then leave! Go! You think you can do a better job of taking care of yourself than we can? Be my guest!” He stomps over to me, shaking a finger in my face. “You’re finished. The lies, the deceit, the sneaking around. It’s over. All of it!”
“You can’t make me stop seeing him!”
“I can give you a choice,” he says, his voice dropping to a growl. “Make it, Jaelyn! Right now!”
“I hate you!” I shriek without thinking, stomp my foot on the polished wood floor, tears of anger streaming down my face, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Eli’s jaw drops and Mom clamps a hand over her mouth.
Dad’s expression slowly morphs from one of disdain to one of utter helplessness and despair. He recoils slightly at my words, blinking fast as if he questions whether or not they are really hanging in the tense air between us.
As if he questions whether or not his little girl, his only daughter, just said the very worst possible ones imaginable.
Reality smacks me in the face like a rubber glove.
I did.
And from the look on his pale, shocked face, they brutalized him like spikes slicing right through his flesh, shredding him from the outside in.
I’ll never forget the look on his face in that moment…
In the instant I broke my father’s heart.