Chapter 15—Tommy
I clench my fists to keep from punching the wall. No doubt I’d punch a hole straight into the apartment next door. I knew it would be bad, but I didn’t know how bad.
Her place is small, but in New York, that isn’t anything new. I was more surprised that she had a private bathroom than anything else, but this is Brooklyn, not Manhattan. The price difference is extreme when you cross that bridge in some neighborhoods. This being one of them.
It was probably what drew Payton to this place, luring her in with a false sense of security that she could shower without eyes on her. And while she might have four walls, I feel eyes in this place watching me, even though my team that was here last night confirmed there were no cameras.
The walls are paper-thin. You can hear everything from the neighbors next door to the traffic outside. Despite the size, she has limited furnishings. I’m not sure if she was robbed worse than she said or if she’s always lived like this.
One cupboard. One bowl. A jug of water. A dozen packs of ramen.
The hot plate doesn’t even seem to work when I turn it on.
The smallest cot I’ve ever seen rests on the damn floor.
Her clothes? Folded neatly by one wall.
That’s it.
I drove the SUV thinking we would bring boxes back. I even have a moving crew on standby to come and pack the shit. But all we need is a trash bag. Not that we couldn’t carry everything she owns in our arms.
“This everything?” I ask, more out of disbelief than cruelty.
She nods and goes to the cupboard to stack the ramen.
“Leave it,” I all but growl. She doesn’t even have a fucking fridge.
Everything points to what I already knew just by looking at Payton.
She’s been starving herself on top of everything.
I get that she’s probably always been thin, or at least on a diet to keep a certain figure for her dance career. But this is ridiculous.
I have nothing against ramen. Even had it a time or two.
But I need multiple bags of it to feel full.
Her? I doubt she even eats one a day. There’s just something about her that screams savings.
Screams sacrifice. The Kings might have “saved” her from what it was like before all this, but to what end?
Every cent she made went to either them or rent.
Ramen was probably all she could afford before I showed up and put her on salary.
“Where’s the rest?”
“What?”
“I pay you enough that you shouldn’t be living like this.” I gesture to everything around her.
To her credit, she doesn’t blush at my harsh words, just points to her clothes.
“You wanted new costumes.”
My eyes track back to the clothing, and I snarl at it. The fabric that I once thought nothing about is now taunting me that I’ve kept her from buying decent food. A week into the revamp of the club, I changed the design colors. And while the strippers didn’t see many change requests, she did.
I fucking forced her into colors to complement the damn club and didn’t consider that she had to pay for it out of her own savings. The thought of giving her a clothing fund didn’t even venture into my mind before all this.
Goddammit.
I run one hand hard over my eyes and face, taking into account that I also fucked her over more than she was before.
She might have survived before this if I hadn’t cut off her extras because I wanted to bring some gold into the place to make it widely known who ran the club.
Of course, my family crest on the door should have been a clue in itself without the added shift in paint.
Wouldn’t have stopped any of this.
My lip twitches at the reminder. Saving her a few dollars wasn’t going to stop the break-in. The attack on her and the robbery. The Kings still would have come for her. And I still wouldn’t have let her go.
“I told you to leave it,” I growl when I hear the wrappers of the ramen moving. When I look over at her, she’s stacking the packages up.
“If I can’t take them with me, then I’m going to give them to someone who needs them.”
She doesn’t wait for me before she leaves the damn room. I curse as I trail behind her as she walks up two flights of stairs and knocks on one of the doors.
“Coming,” a soft voice says before what sounds like a herd of elephants comes running to the door. It opens, and not one but two small heads poke out.
“Hello,” Payton greets them with a warm smile that has me staring at her far longer than I should with an unknown person on the other side of the door.
“Hi, Payton! You coming to play with us today?”
“Not today, I’m sorry.”
“What happened to your face?” one of the other girls asks, and I look at the door as it opens and a woman appears.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, Payton, are you okay?”
She goes to grab her, but Payton knows that wouldn’t be wise and moves out of her reach.
The other woman notices it and pulls her hand back, then pushes the girls back inside before closing the door as she eyes me. Smart. She doesn’t know me, and while I’m not into attacking a woman or a child, she doesn’t know that. I can appreciate a smart woman—even better, a smart mother.
“I’m fine. Small thing at work. Anyhow, I was wondering if you could use these.” Payton holds out the ramen, and the woman takes the stack with a nod. “I got too much.”
The woman looks at me, and I know she can see the lie in Payton’s words but doesn’t call her on it. Instead, she opens the door and hands the food over to her girls, who run off with it before looking back at us.
“Want to come in for a coffee, Payton?” she offers.
I hold back my smirk at her words. A clever way to point out that only my girl is welcome and not me.
My girl? The ease with which that slipped into my thoughts hits harder than it should.
But Payton has nothing to fear from me. Not in a way that would leave bruises on her face, anyway. I might leave a few, but they’ll be bite marks and finger impressions from my hold on her hips.
Thoughts and visions that have been a constant in my mind since I got Payton into my car last night. I’m not planning to force her, but if the opportunity comes up, I won’t back down from it.
“Maybe another time. I have to get going.”
“To where?” More suspicion from the woman. I’m starting to like her for it.
“A friend’s place. I won’t be able to babysit for a while, but call me in a week or two and we can get back to the regular routine if you still need me.”
The woman nods, showing a bit of relief that Payton is making future plans and not just saying goodbye.
“No worries. Mrs. Carlton already said she could watch the girls again now that her mother went to live with her brother. She says it’s freed up her time enough that she doesn’t know what to do if she isn’t taking care of someone. ”
Both women laugh softly before Payton waves goodbye and we go back to her place. I mentally kick myself for leaving the door open while we were gone—though what’s really left to steal?—and make sure to close it once we’re back inside.
“Who was that?”
“Willow Frazzer. She moved in about two months ago after her divorce.”
“The two girls all she has, or are there more?”
She laughs at my words, though it seems more surprised than anything. Still, it warms a part of my soul. “Two is enough. Especially those two.”
Her smile has me crossing my arms and leaning against the wall as I watch her gather her things.
I promise myself to put that smile on her face as often as possible.
To be the one to do that for her, either in memory or at the moment.
But it will be because of me and me alone.
Not sure why I have this urge to do this, but I won’t back down from a promise I’ve made to myself.
Never have before, and I won’t start now.
“Now what?” she asks after she grabs all her clothes in her hands.
“Fuck,” I say with a shake of my head. We don’t even need a damn trash bag. This is sadder than foster kids being moved from one place to the next.
Even more than Milly had.
The sobering thought of what my sister went through is clear in my mind.
I fear it’ll never go away. And it shouldn’t.
What happened to her and my nephew, Ollie, is something that shouldn’t happen to anyone.
Especially not a woman and child. But at least Milly had the Crazy Eights. Payton had no one.
No one till me.
I turn and walk out of the room, not stopping till I get to the bottom of the stairs and hold the front door for her.
The only thing in this place that has any weight to it, but that’s just because it fucking sticks at the top.
When I open the back door of the SUV, she drops her small pile of clothes onto the floorboard before stepping back and letting me open the passenger door for her.
Once I shut it, I pull my phone out and send a message to my team to keep a lookout on this place.
Not only to find the people who owe me the money Payton saved for her payment last night to the Kings that’s now mine, but for those who Payton cares for.
The only people who seem to care for her back in this world, it seems.
Once I get a confirmation that my team understands what I’m asking, I walk to my side of the vehicle and get in.
“Now we get to work.”
Work consisted of dropping Payton back at my place and demanding she rest before her performance tonight. Something she argued very little about since she was a walking nap waiting to happen before we got more than a mile from her place.
For me, it meant a trip to Bobby’s office.
My brother takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me get this straight. A stripper who works for you—”
“Performer,” I correct him.