7. Colton
COLTON
“He’s not going to set those on fire, come on,” I mumble to myself, stopped in the middle of my living room with the vacuum just idling in my hand.
My settling-in month ended about two weeks ago, and I’ve been making the rounds on my own ever since.
I was grateful to have that time to make sure I could really learn and watch before diving in headfirst. Now all the duties are mine and mine alone.
Ironically, it’s been a great motivator for my work ethic.
I’ve been taking time every Sunday to watch videos of new tricks or trends that are taking off, which Tessa said is probably the best way to anticipate everyone’s needs.
Holidays or seasonal shifts coming up that might influence the drink or tasting menus we offer.
Popular movies or trends that would require new outfits be placed in the roleplay room.
While the showroom has elegant gowns and high-end designer choices, the roleplay room is the more typical fetish options like doctor or nurse, firefighter, police officer and librarian.
There is no reverse tease for that room to watch the outfit slide on, just a grand entrance in whatever theme has been selected.
I also try to stay ahead of music, seeing what is popular that should be queued up and optional for the private rooms. When I can’t stand to watch juggling anymore, which apparently now includes a fire element, I switch over to music, starting a playlist of current top hits and popping in my headphones.
At this point, I’ve done everything I can to anticipate other’s needs, even waking up earlier than should be legally allowed so I can meet Harper at the gym.
This way I am starting my day with her, making her coffee, giving her a morning rundown from the night before in the order of most to least urgent tasks.
It also gives me a chance to walk the club alone, finding areas that no one specifically told me about, or making note of spaces that are off-limits to patrons or staff members.
I was able to walk through the storage area and see where everything went, gaps in spaces where things needed to be ordered.
Basically doing everything I can think of to distract me from just sitting outside Harper’s office like a lost puppy. Especially since I’m quite literally running after her every morning.
What started as a method to butter-up Harper has slowly turned into my favorite part of the day.
Except for the cardio, I don’t care how pretty her eyes are or how shiny her hair looks as it sways, I will never like that part.
My knees are getting ready to give up and hurl me down a flight of stairs, but my alone time with Harper has me waking up before the alarm even goes off to rush over to the club to hop right back on that treadmill next to hers.
When my car didn’t want to start yesterday, I ended up having to use a rideshare to get there, walking in 45 minutes later than usual.
She looked surprised to see me, like she had accepted I wasn’t making it to our morning workout.
But I swear her face lit up seeing me walk through those doors.
I could have been imagining it though, since it was quickly replaced with cool indifference as she quietly mumbled something about me finally giving up.
The truth is, I don’t think I would be able to stay away even if I did want to. I hated days like today when I didn’t get to see her.
I just smiled, not wanting to lay it on too thick, and just promised it would never happen, laying my hand over my heart and begging her for forgiveness. She just rolled her eyes, but as she turned away I got a glimpse of it, my smile. Good to know begging works.
The club only has one full day off, and it should be used to recharge and see friends.
It shouldn’t be a day I spend counting down the hours until I can go to sleep, knowing when I wake up, I get to see her.
It’s like a compulsion, an addiction, a need.
To see her before anyone else can get to her, barefaced and glowing.
Before she puts on the mask of Cirque owner and business tycoon.
I watch her as often as I can during meetings and rehearsals, desperate to see if anyone else makes the apple of her cheeks rosy or coaxes out a gentle smile.
Not a smirk, or a grin, or a way to bare her fangs.
A full happy smile on Harper is different.
Those are for when the club gets good news or Sadie whispers a funny joke into her sister’s ear.
But this smile, my smile. It’s the kind of smile that is pulled out of you, regardless of how hard you fight to keep it buried.
The kind that comes from your soul and blankets those around you in sunshine.
And it’s only for me.
Two weeks of walking together every morning, and I think I have told her more about my life than anyone who doesn’t share some level of DNA.
Granted, I’ve had a lot of time to chat, since Harper hasn’t exactly been participating in this one-sided conversation.
I’ve told her about my parents and siblings, nieces and nephews who have declared me their favorite uncle, because duh.
I learned early on that bribing them with sweets and toys their own parents won’t get them was the most effective method.
My name is equivalent to a swear word in that house every time my nieceEmma practices her ‘drumming’, if you can call it that, but it was totally worth it.
I know she’s listening to every word I say, even if she still wants to pretend she isn’t.
I even tested it once, to see how much progress I was making, stopping a story just before the juicy bit to see if she would take the bait.
After a moment, when I didn’t continue, she looked at me with a mixture of hatred and curiosity.
A question brimming on the tip of her tongue, but my stubborn girl wouldn’t bring herself to ask, unwilling to cross that line and admit she might even like my company.
She still wears headphones while we walk, but I’ve noticed more than once that there is no music playing on her phone.
She usually doesn’t even bother to open her phone until our walk is over and she heads to the back where the boxing equipment lies.
Only then does her body start to shift with whatever song is playing as she wraps her wrists and dons her gloves.
She never starts while I’m there though, waiting for me to depart before she takes the first swing.
Like watching her let loose is too intimate.
I can see her in my head, eyes closed as she gently rocks to a beat and I mimic the movement, abandoning the vacuum in the middle of the carpet.
The song shifts and my movements change with it, my hips swaying and butt shaking.
I pull one ankle behind the other before twisting around to face my kitchen and front door.
I stop dead in my tracks, phone in one hand and dignity in the other, while James leans against my kitchen island facing me while he starts to slow clap.
“Man, you truly did miss your calling,” he laughs, a shit-eating grin marring his features as I pull the headphones out of my ears.
“You wish I moved like that for you,” I say, throwing a wink over my shoulder as I toss my phone on the couch and walk into the kitchen to join him, leaning against the other side of the island. “I’ll also remind you that I’m an assistant, not a dancer.”
“Thank God for that,” he jokes, sitting down on one of the stools and resting his elbows on the marble. “So, how’s it going? How are you handling the uh…shift in position,” he’s smiling, still not quite done laughing at the circumstances around how I got this new position.
“Is that why you dropped by unannounced with the key I gave you for emergencies,” I lift a brow in question, “To look after my well-being?”
“And to critique your shimmy,” he smirks, “But really, I haven’t heard from you much since starting other than a one-word text here and there. Half the time you don’t even respond until the next day or later.”
I’m obviously not going to tell him that between waking up so early and the non-stop commotion of the day, I can’t keep my eyes open past eight o’clock. I’m not ignoring him, but I don’t think a tornado could wake me up once my head hits the pillow these days.
“It hasn’t been too bad. Most of the staff have been really welcoming, the performance manager is tough and works his people hard, but he gets shit done.
The bar manager keeps flirting with me, but who can blame her,” I wink at him.
“Everyone’s been welcoming, but it’s weird, the women have been almost…
too polite?” I tell him, thinking back to how the demeanor from the other men hasn’t changed much, but the women have been going almost out of their way to not talk to me since I had to awkwardly let Hannah down.
“Maybe she told them you’re an asshat,” he chuckles as I reach over and lightly smack his shoulder.
“Did see one weird interaction though,” I tell him, rubbing the back of my neck while I play over the scene in my head, trying to remember all the details.
“With the women? Did they see you dance? Would explain why they are keeping their distance.”
“No,” I roll my eyes. “With one of the performers, a fire breather named Ben,” I correct.
“So weird you work somewhere where that’s a totally normal job title,” he shakes his head in disbelief. Still sounds weird to me too, buddy.
I tell James about the incident between Ben and Marcus, the tension at odds with the rest of the interactions between the cast that I’ve seen.
Even when employees have disagreements, nothing has been like that fight and escalation.
Fallon seemed shaken, but not entirely surprised by the way Ben had behaved.
Come to think of it, neither did Marcus, which means it probably wasn’t an isolated event, especially given Fallon said his mood has gotten worse and worse.