Page 32 of Born to Make You Smile

His handsome face, his strong features, his nose, his mouth, his jaw. I pictured his dazzling smile; the way the corners of his green eyes wrinkled gently, showing his age; his experience, his vast knowledge of the world. Then there was his scent. A mix of wood, fresh laundry, all man. I thought about his hands—rugged yet gentle with the fine motor skills of a surgeon. Hours upon hours, I’d watched those hands at work, knowing what they were capable of. I could hear his distinct accent and his tone in my mind. Deep and sexy.

Suddenly, my mind began to wander. I pictured the two of us standing on my front porch. Rain soaking through his white T-shirt. I’d help him take it off, then I’d lick the rain off his bare chest, moving up to his mouth. I imagined how incredible he’d taste. How satisfying it would be for our bodies to connect.

My body flushed with warmth, and I felt my clit pulse in a steady rhythm. It was as if I could actually hear the beat.

Bip. Bip. Bip.

Wait. That wasn’t my clit. That was the sound of actual dripping water inside the house.

I jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs toward the source of the sound.

After flicking on the living room light, I couldn’t believe the sight before me. Water was dripping through the many large open cracks in the ceiling by the bay window, sitting in a puddle on the hardwood floor. My breathing picked up while my gut tumbled. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Scurrying away, I fetched some bowls, pails, anything I could find to hold the water, as well as several towels to sop up the mess.

I surveyed the disaster around me. This was definitely going to cost me. God. I should have dealt with the small cracks last month. What was I going to do?

***

Over the next few days, I did some research and called several contractors to assess the ceiling damage. The first quote I received for the repairs was so ridiculous I thought he was joking. Apparently, he recommended I replace the whole living room ceiling. He even suggested I redo the rest of the main floor, the entire outside, the shingles as well as the awnings and drainage systems. That Friday, I received another quote that was even higher than the first. My entire body became uneasy, and I couldn’t eat or sleep, unsure of how I would deal with this financially.

The second contractor actually suggested not to bother with the repairs, to just go ahead and sell the house. He told me I could make a fortune, as this area was in high demand for teardowns and rebuilds. While I appreciated his honesty, I wanted to laugh. Then cry. I couldn’t sell. This house was all I’d ever known; it was part of my family. A part of my mom. The only part of her I had left. This house always took care ofme when I was lonely. The walls kept me warm and protected. My sanctuary. My haven. I couldn’t give up on it just because it was old and sick. Not to mention, I’d no longer be next door to Gavin or the girls if I sold. The Brinleys were my precious second family. I had to find a way to save this place. Telling Gavin about my situation and asking him for a raise or an advance crossed my mind.

With a sigh, I picked up my phone and sent a message I never thought I’d have to send.

Me:Hey, Vanessa. It’s Grace. I was wondering if that job at the club is still available by any chance?

ELEVEN

Club X-PLORE was locatedin a very large and old-looking warehouse at Queen and Spadina. I had to double check the address to be sure.

I headed to the front desk, and it seemed like any other club. Refined and modern, with dark wood and leather furniture and charcoal-black walls. I signed in and waited with tumbling nerves to meet with Ashna, Vanessa’s friend and one of the owners. I had no idea what to expect.

“Grace?”

I looked up to see a petite woman dressed in black with dark skin and shoulder-length purple hair.

I stood to greet her.

“I’m Ashna,” she said with a beaming smile. “Come with me.”

She offered me water, which I declined, and then brought me to an office that was much brighter than the rest of theclub. Ashna told me about the history of X-PLORE, how it was owned by her and another woman, which I thought was great and definitely something that put my mind at ease about working here. She proceeded to ask a series of questions about my experience and my résumé. Besides being a dental assistant, I didn’t have many previous jobs. I worked at the front desk of the community center after I graduated from high school and as a bartender at a pub on weekends once I became legal.

“You’ll be serving alcohol, drinks, water. As well as offering condoms and lube. We encourage our staff to wear a costume or an item of clothing that makes them feel good. Obviously, more skin showing is ideal, but whatever you’re comfortable with.”

I smiled, shifting in my chair. “Sounds good.”

“You’re a friend of Vanessa’s?”

I nodded. “I’m actually best friends with her sister, Dorina. We all went to high school together.”

“No way. Dorina does my hair. She gets it this perfect shade of mauve. I’ve known Vanessa for years. This place wouldn’t be what it is without her. She organizes everything. Every event is because of her. She’s incredible.”

I wondered if Dorina knew the impact her sister had on this club. How valued she was.

“So,” Ashna continued, “it’s a temporary contract until February. And we’ll need you here from eight to two on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We might need you some weekends for busy events and all that, but we’ll let you know ahead of time. And since you do have experience bartending, you’ll be behind the bar some nights. We have two bars—the main bar and one in Studio 69.”

Studio 69?I swallowed.

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