12. Optional Retrieval
TWELVE
OPTIONAL RETRIEVAL
Trish
“How... can you do that?” Rose, sweating and panting, lies starfish style on the stage, glitter and stripper makeup smeared down her face.
“It’s obvious the girl used to strip,” Nina, Myra’s dark haired friend, states. She’s sweaty as well but not beet red like Rose. Probably because she and the other ladies did modified versions of the pole exercises with help from a chair.
Rose went full tilt.
Rose snorts, but when I don’t refute the allegation, her eyes widen. “Seriously?” She struggles up on her elbows. “But you’re so...so...” She gestures wildly, apparently unable to think of a word.
I shrug. I’m exhausted. Not from the class. There weren’t even any inverted dips. Muscle memory and my three-times-a-week Pilate exercises got me through the beginner pole dance routine. But I’m tired of hiding things. Tired of secrets.
And what’s the use of it, anyway? I’ll be leaving soon.
“College bills don’t pay themselves, and any student loan I could have gotten back then would’ve had an astronomical interest rate.”
“You’re so cool.” Rose blows a wisp of hair out of her face.
“Don’t you find it odd that only a moment ago you called me boring and now that you know I took my clothes off for money you think I’m cool?”
Rose falls back and reassumes her starfish position, blinking into the circulating lights. “Nope.”
“Well, I for one am so glad you guys came. Really keeps us older gals on our toes.” Myra blots her slightly damp forehead with a towel that has ‘sweet ass’ spelled in sequins along the bottom edge.
“Please tell me you ladies are coming again?” Lottie, Myra’s other friend asks.
“Yes, yes, and bring those NASA girls next time, too.” Myra flips her towel at us.
“Your friends work at NASA?” Nina asks, one thin brow arching. “My boy works there.”
“Really?” Rose struggles up to her elbows again. “What’s his name? Maybe our friends know?—”
Oingo Boingo’s “Weird Science” blasts from Rose’s direction.
“Pardon,” Rose says, reaching in between her boobs and pulling out her cell phone.
“Has that been in there the whole time?” I ask, thinking of all the spins she was doing on the pole.
“Yep. My cleavage is the perfect fanny pack.” Rose wipes her phone down her leotard, probably ’cause it’s covered in sweat, then runs her thumb along the bottom to answer it. “Howdy, nerd.”
Must be Jackie.
“Sounds good. See you bitches there.” Rose replaces the phone back between her boobs and pops up off the floor with more energy than I thought she had. “Brunch at Boons. You down?”
Considering I have nearly a whole draft of my next book finished, and no waitressing gig to go to, I’ve got time to spare today. “Brunch sounds lovely.”
Rose turns to the other ladies, who have their bags on their shoulders, ready to leave. “You ladies want to go?”
Myra pats her arm affectionately. “That’s nice of you dear, but we have to go to Cindy’s and see if the new selection of ergonomically friendly vibrators has come in yet.”
Rose’s mouth drops open.
“Maybe next time, dearie.”
Myra turns to go, but Rose grasps her hand with both of hers, an awe-struck expression on her face. “Can I be you when I grow up?”
“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to go pole dancing.
” Jackie pouts over her eggs Benedict. “I want to try. I bet there are all sorts of physics involved.” Her eyes slide to the side, her brow furrowed, and Jackie is lost to us for the moment.
Probably trying to decipher the science of pole dancing.
“I don’t need lessons.” Jules kicks her legs up on the railing next to our table on Boondoggles’ patio. “I already have a killer striptease.” She pops a fried pickle in her mouth. “Just ask Holt.”
“You guys test my gag reflex on a regular basis,” Rose mutters before downing her mimosa in one go.
Jules laughs. “And let’s all just take a moment to enjoy the fact that I knew something before all of you hookers.”
“Yes, yes, we’re so impressed you knew about Trish and Ian.
” Rose waves Jules away with a hand holding a pizza chip.
Ranch dressing droplets fall on the table.
She pivots on the bench seat next to me, eyes burrowing into my own.
“Now, Trish.” She stuffs the chip in her mouth, moving it to the side like a chipmunk. “Tell me everything .”
“Well,” I hedge, taking a sip of my Bloody Mary and wishing there was less tomato juice and more vodka. “Ian said I could park my trailer in his boat garage.”
“Is that a new euphemism?” Rose’s face scrunches in thought as she finishes chewing. “’Cause I think it would be the other way around. His trailer, your garage.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh… are we talking peg?—”
“No we are not, you deviant.” I huff. “I meant I literally parked my trailer in his empty boat garage.”
“Who has a boat garage?” Jules snorts. “That’s just excessive.”
“Says the girl who built an air-conditioned abode for her cow.”
Jules’ eyes narrow at me.
“No.” Rose butts in. “No, no, no. If it isn’t a sexy euphemism, I don’t need to hear it.” She crosses her legs under the table, turning fully toward me. “I want the good stuff.” She sticks her hand up, counting her words out as she speaks. “Size, girth, and bend.”
That brings Jackie back to the present, and she blinks rapidly, turning to her soon-to-be sister-in-law. “Bend?”
“Yes.” Rose glances at each of us in turn. “Please tell me you’ve all been with someone with an upward bend.” She eyes each of us. “Totally game changing.” She shivers as if just the memory brings on an aftershock.
Jackie clears her throat. “Just to clarify, we are talking about the penis, correct?”
“Yes, Jackie,” Jules says with a smirk. “The penis.”
Jackie ponders this.
“I swear to God, girl,” Rose starts, waving her empty glass in the air at our waitress. “If you bring a protractor into bed with my brother and I have to hear about it, I will never forgive you.”
Jackie blushes, which is as good as admitting that the thought of checking the angle of Flynn’s penis has just crossed her genius mind.
“Don’t get plastered, Meth-head Barbie.” Jules glares at Rose’s empty glass, still in the air.
“We need to go downtown and get fitted in our dresses.” Much to no one’s surprise, Rose had not changed after pole dancing class.
She did look like my lone childhood Barbie.
The one in the blue jazzercise outfit with pink leg warmers.
Except Rose’s made-up face is slightly melted, and her hair looks like a tumbleweed that’s blown through a Pride parade.
Rose rolls her raccoon eyes but lowers her glass. “Anyhoo.” Glitter rains down into her breakfast tacos as she tosses her hair back to once more hit me with her laser gaze. “Ian?”
“What about Ian?” I stall. It’s fine if they know I’m a stripper. I’m okay if they figure out I’m a romance writer. But I do not want to tell them I’m parked in Ian’s garage because I’m running from the law. Some things you just can’t gloss over with champagne. Or vodka.
“Cut the crap.” Rose leans forward, her boobs threatening to pop out of the spandex scoop neck. I can see the top edge of her phone. “Are you getting a good dicking or not?”
Jackie coughs on her iced tea. Jules slaps her on the back and raises one curious eyebrow at me.
I pick up my fluted glass, pinky out. “A lady never kisses and tells.”
“Lady?” Rose pulls out her cellphone from her cleavage. “Girl, with the way you work that pole, I’ll never call you a lady again.” She scrolls through her phone, then turns it toward Jules and Jackie.
“You took pictures?” My voice cracks on the last word like a thirteen-year-old boy.
“Better.” She taps a button and Def Leopard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” starts playing. “I took video.”
“Whoa.” Jules sits up, leaning toward Rose’s outstretched phone. “Shortstack can shake her money maker. I did not see that coming.” She sticks her fist out across the table for me to bump. “Nice.”
Shocked, I bump it.
After the video plays for the third time, I finally snatch the phone out of Rose’s hand and delete the video.
“So you gonna tell these two what prompted your move to Ian’s place?” Jules asks, dipping a fry into barbecue sauce. She’d forgone an entree and ordered a plethora of appetizers and dipping sauces.
“Yes. Do tell.” Rose wedges her phone back between her boobs.
Jackie looks down at her own, probably trying to calculate if her boobs could hold a smart phone.
I settle for a half truth. “He needed me to go to a fundraiser with him, and in return he said I could park my trailer in his garage to save on rent.”
“That seems a bit excessive.” Using her index finger, Jackie pushes her glasses back in place. “You can park it at our house if money is tight. Flynn won’t mind.”
“Or, you know, just ask your bff billionaire friend for some help.” Rose gives me her best “duh” face.
“But why aren’t you working at Big Texas if you need money?” Leave it to Jackie to find all the holes in my story.
Dang it . “Actually, the uh, truth is…” I twist my cocktail napkin until it shreds.
Jules sits back, watching me squirm. She hasn’t called me out on anything, but it’s clear she’s enjoying my struggle to answer.
“We are, um, kind of seeing each other?” I finish lamely. I mean, it isn’t a complete lie. We do see each other every day.
“Like sleeping together seeing each other?” Rose cocks a brow at me.
Hoping if I concede on this point, Rose and Jackie will stop asking other, more revealing questions, I nod.
“About damn time.” Rose pushes back from the table, a streak of sunlight catching her hair, the glitter making her look like an unhinged angel. “You guys were worse than watching Jules and Holt. And since he’s my brother, that’s saying something.”
Jules flips Rose off while taking a sip of her soda. Rose retaliates with a two-finger salute.
“Is the fundraiser for his father’s campaign?
” Jackie asks, ignoring Rose and Jules’ silent squabbling.
“I was invited to that.” She bounces happily in her seat.
“I actually get invited to things now.” For the girl who never even got invited to her own prom, Jackie has been both pleased and dumbfounded by her recent popularity.
“But I had to decline as astronauts aren’t allowed to be politically affiliated. ”
“Well, sugar. You did save the International Space Station.” I tilt my head to the side. “But what do you mean by campaign ?”
With one final glare at Jules, Rose answers me. “That’s what the fundraiser is for. The upcoming senatorial campaign.” She picks up a sparkling taco. “I got invited too. All the Wests did.” She shrugs before taking a bite.
An icy trickle of foreboding seeps inside my chest. “Senatorial?”
Rose nods, her cheeks full of egg and chorizo.
“The senator is trying to shore up his campaign funds, as well as hobnob with Houston’s elite, I’m sure.
” Jules shakes her glass before taking a pull on her straw, getting mostly air.
“Even without the political conflict thing at NASA, you wouldn’t catch me there.
” She shivers. “Ugh, politics and PR, two of my least favorite things.”
“Senator?” Goosebumps break out over my arms. “Politics?”
Three sets of eyes turn my way.
“Ian’s dad,” Jules says slowly, putting down her glass and frowning at me.
It’s suddenly hard to breathe.
Rose swallows the large lump of taco in her mouth with a hard gulp. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head, my eyes wide.
Jules’ brows pinch together. “How do you not know?”
“I don’t know how I don’t know!” My voice fluctuates with hysteria. “What kind of question is that?” Black dots swirl around the edge of my vision.
“Whoa. It’s okay.” Rose pats one of my hands that are gripping the edge of the table. “He’s just a politician. They’re not that special.”
Just a politician. She doesn’t know what they can do. The power they wield.
“I’m sorry, Trish.” Jules looks unusually sincere. “I honestly thought you knew.”
All I can do is shake my head again, the small bits of background information I have on Ian floating through my head.
They were all carefully gleaned over the past few weeks from various conversations.
Jackie once mentioned Ian’s family coming from money while we were out drinking.
During a football watch party, Rose rolled her eyes at Ian for rooting for his hometown team, the Dallas Cowboys.
And Jules made a throw-away comment about how both she and Ian have domineering fathers.
But no one ever said anything about politics.
Even during our time together at his house, Ian never mentioned it. True, I never asked for details. I hadn’t thought them important, and honestly, I was afraid he’d ask me for the same if I tried.
And now, after years of avoiding anything and everything to do with rich, powerful men, especially those in politics, I’m sleeping with the son of one. And a high-ranking one at that.
“I’m going to need another drink,” I manage.
Rose shoots up in a cloud of glitter, her boobs bouncing. “On it.”
Jules sucks air through her front teeth, rocking back in her seat. “So I guess now would be a bad time to mention I figured out you’re Audrey Cole?”
“What the hell?” Rose drops back down, the old, worn, wood bench seat cracking beneath her. “You knew?”
“Oh, good.” Jackie straightens in her seat. “You all know.” Either oblivious to, or ignoring, the undercurrent of shock, she smiles. “I was hoping we could discuss this soon.” She turns to me, eyes shining. “I have so many questions.”
Jules straightens, slamming her motorcycle boots on the concrete floor. “Wait.” She holds up a hand. “I wasn’t the first to figure it out?”
“Please.” Rose scoffs. “I knew, like, day one.”
“I highly doubt that,” Jackie says. “Day one you were inebriated and passed out.”
Rose rolls her eyes. “Fine. Maybe day two.”
Jackie opens her mouth again, but Rose waves her quiet. “Whatever. I’m just saying I knew first.”
Jules points a fork at Rose’s face. “Now wait a min?—”
“Hold your damn horses.” I’m breathing hard as they stare at me in shock. “You all know?”
“Uh, yeah.” Rose says, ignoring both my rare use of expletives and obvious dismay. “Is that a problem?”
Before I can sort through the various emotions I’m feeling or find the words to answer, our waitress comes over. “Can I get you guys anything else?”
“Yes.” Rose glances at me. “ All the alcohol.”
I nod vacantly. “And a straw.”