Chapter 23 #2
He’s trying to make me feel like the bad guy, but he’s basically admitted that he came here to stalk me outside of meetings.
How did he even know I work here? The website doesn’t exactly have headshots of us all for obvious reasons.
And even if it did, how would he have even known where to look?
I’ve never mentioned the Tavern by name, and when I talked about performing, I kept it vague to sound like a singer or a stand-up comedian or whatever.
That way, no one could link me to the only stripper bar in a ten-mile vicinity.
So has he been following me?
The thought makes me feel physically sick.
I turn back to give him a mouthful, but it’s Trixie that pushes past us and marches up to Emerson, her hot orange nail millimeters from his nose. “Y’all quit botherin’ my boy, you hear? He asked you nicely now I’m tellin’ you not so nicely. Scoot! Before I have the bouncers haul your ass out!”
Abe steps back toward him as well, his metal grinder raised. Out of all of us, he’s easily the tallest and broadest. Personally, I wouldn’t fuck with him. “You heard the lady,” he growls.
Lucas and Riley come and flank me, their hands resting on my bare shoulders. This whole exchange feels so much more gross because I’m literally standing here in a damn thong.
“Jesse,” Lucas asks me. “Is this guy actually bothering you?”
I shift uneasily and grimace at Emerson. “You know none of us are really supposed to see each other outside of meetings,” I mumble. “I’m sorry, man. I appreciate that you want to be friends. But, um, that might not…I mean…”
“SCOOT!” Trixie shouts, her eyes blazing.
“Hey, I’m a paying customer!” Emerson shouts back shamelessly at her.
“Not anymore, you’re not,” Abe says cheerfully. He seizes Emerson by the arm, the metal grinder swinging effortlessly from his other hand as he starts dragging my creepy stalker back into the crowd.
“Wait, no!” Emerson yells, twisting to look at me again. “Jesse, I’m sorry! Tell him to stop!”
I shake my head, feeling nauseous and shivery as Riley wraps his arm around my back. “I’ll see you later, Emerson.”
“Fucking dick,” Lucas fumes.
“Now, now,” Trixie says, waving us into the changing room. The music is muffled as soon as the door closes behind us. “You pay that troublemaker no mind, Jesse. You hear? He’s just a lost little lamb and I wish him all the best gettin’ the help he needs. But that ain’t your problem.”
I scrub my face as I feel several of the other guys turning to see what the matter is. I feel like I’m contaminated. The fact that he tracked me down here is so not cool.
What if he’s waiting for me when I leave? What could someone like that be capable of? All it would take is a second with a knife or a gun and…
And I’d lose everything I’ve fought my ass off for. My life is finally starting to become something I love, something I’m proud of, and that douche bag could steal it all in an instant. I wouldn’t be the first celebrity to be murdered by a psychotic fan.
My legs falter under me. Luckily, Riley is still holding onto me and manages to guide me into an empty chair.
“Hey, Jesse,” Yang calls out with a frown. “Are you okay?”
“Some creep just tried to creep on him,” Riley says eloquently, shaking his head as he stands back up. “That was so creepy.”
“And he was a dick to Trixie,” I mutter angrily.
The room erupts. But before the guys can grab their pitchforks, Trixie jumps on the chair next to me and shakes her hands at the room.
“Now y’all quit it!” she hollers, calming them down immediately. “I’m fine. Jesse might need some TLC, though. So are you boys cool to do the last number without him?”
“I can stand in,” Lucas offers. I didn’t realize how relieved that would make me, but I deflate like a punctured balloon.
“Thanks, man,” I tell him gratefully.
“No problem,” he says, squeezing my shoulder.
Trixie waves at a couple of the nearest guys to help her back down off the chair. She brushes her dress down then clasps her hands as she gives me a kind smile. “Now, Jesse, baby. I want you to get yourself cleaned up and cozy. Riley, be a darling and maybe make him some sweet tea, hmm?”
“On it, Mama!” He salutes at her, then spins and dashes toward the kitchen area.
She leans over and takes my trembling hands in her little ones. “Can you call your fella to come pick you up, darlin’?” she asks.
I shake my head. “He’s working tonight.”
Recently, I’ve been taking the bus so that Rico can go back to driving himself to and from work. That means we can both be more independent. Until now, I’ve been absolutely fine with that. In fact, I was quite enjoying it.
But the idea that Emerson could be waiting outside scares me and I hate it.
He’s just a pathetic loser, but his enthusiasm is too intense, as proved by this bullshit tonight.
It wasn’t only that he showed up, was rude, and seems hellbent on becoming my best friend forever.
The more I think back on his behavior, the more certain I am he’d been drinking something stronger than soda pop.
Seeing a relapse like that in front of my eyes is too close to home.
It hits me that he’s like the physical manifestation of my past returning to haunt me.
I’m not that person anymore. I’m certainly not that character anymore.
But addiction has a way of grabbing you by the hair and dragging you back into the throws of your own torment.
One thing I know for sure is that I’m going to fight that this time with everything I have.
It doesn’t mean I’m not frightened of failing, though.
Damn, I need to get out of here. I need to get home. I know Rico isn’t there, but Klaus is. I want to hug my dog and fall asleep in my husband’s bed and just put some fucking distance between this whole unsettling experience.
“I’ll just get the bus,” I mumble, looking around absently for my bag.
Trixie places her palm on my chest, drawing me back to her.
“No, sweetheart,” she says, looking unflinchingly into my eyes. “You’re going to sit here and drink your tea. Get yourself nice and clean, then pop on some clothes to head home in. And if I can’t find you a ride before we close, I’ll drive you myself. Do I make myself clear?”
Any resistance I had in me crumbles as I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
Not caring about the body glitter, she leans in and hugs me tight. “You had a lil fright, so you be kind to yourself. That’s an order. Now let Mama work her magic, ’kay?”
“Okay.”
She releases me and pats my arm before marching off to her office.
Before I know it, I’m drinking hot sugary tea while Riley passes me baby wipes to get most of the make-up off my body.
He chats away about his younger sister’s recent school drama without much need from me to join in.
I find myself relaxing as I hear about the rivalry between the drama club and the chess team, as well as which boys are the nicest and which teachers give the most homework.
My mind drifts with the help of his soothing background monologue. I think Emerson rattled me so badly because I don’t believe that my recovery can withstand much. Because history has shown me that I’ll abandon my sobriety at the drop of a hat.
Things aren’t like that anymore, though. I’m not on my own, and I don’t just mean because of Rico. These people at the tavern were strangers only a matter of weeks ago. Now they’re fussing over me like a lost kitten.
I’d be embarrassed, except I know I’d do the same for any of them. We all have our bad days, and it’s okay to ask for help.
It’s also okay to accept it.
I’m not sure how much time passes. Maybe an hour? But it doesn’t feel like long before Trixie is sashaying back into the dressing room, followed by a gorgeous man that makes every single one of the guys perk up like a mob of meerkats.
Trixie snaps her fingers at me, looking proud. “What did I tell you, sugar? Mama always fixes it.” She gestures to the newcomer like he’s a shiny car on a gameshow. “Your carriage awaits, good sir.”
“Hey, there,” the stranger says, surprising me with an Australian accent.
He waves kind of dorkily, but his shy smile is warm, and I feel immediately at ease.
His facial features suggest an Asian heritage, and his thick, black hair flows around his ears like some kind of shampoo commercial wet dream.
“Um, we don’t actually know each other. But I’ve subbed a couple of times with the One-Thirteen.
Trixie here tells me that you’re Lieutenant Flores’s husband? ”
Several different emotions rush through me at once. Namely confusion, gratitude, and relief.
“You know Rico?” I ask, rising to my feet. The guys are watching us keenly like we’re characters in a reality TV show, but I don’t think I have anything to hide. If this is a friend of Rico’s, then hopefully I can trust him.
The newcomer thrusts his hand out with a much more confident grin than before. “Certainly do, my friend. I’m Drayton Hendrix, but my mates call me Dray. And you’re Jesse, yeah?”
“That’s me,” I say weakly as we shake. “How…?”
Trixie waves down my concern. “So I called Captain Valentine. His number was in your file in case I needed to contact your hubby in an emergency, you know? And gosh darn, Mr. Valentine is such a pussycat! Anyhoo, he said that he and the other boys and girls down at the station were havin’ just a dickens of a night, but to give him five minutes cuz there might be someone he could call.
And voila!” She does the gameshow flourish with her hands again.