Page 38 of The Dollhouse

Huh. This was weird, but okay.

It was an hour or so into my shift when I stood near the bar, leaning on it, feeling so out of place here without either Roman or Carter watching me. Like, even though there were a few men in here who’d love to see me strip and dance, who’d get off on watching me tease my body, I was lonely.

Lonely. Me. Who knew?

Jamie leaned on the counter, watching me. Her dark stare had observed the way I fumbled around all night, and it was like she knew, for she said, “Don’t tell me you’re standing there missing those two.”

I jerked my head back, my eyes wide. “I, uh… no?” Okay, I did not sound believable in the least, so it wasn’t a shock when she shook her head at me and made a disapproving sound. Crystal wasn’t here tonight; it was just me. I’d never gotten friendly with the other girls.

And it was then I had a thought. A very bad thought. What if Roman and Carter were somewhere else, at another club, with another girl? Or, worse, what if Roman had forced Carter to bring Crystal back to his place?

Though it was probably just my mind overthinking it all, I caught myself wondering why the hell I had to be good and obedient when Roman could have Carter pull anyone else and offer them the exact same deal he offered me? Why should I stay away from Lake when he could theoretically be watching Carter shove his dick into someone else?

Oh, no. I didn’t like that thought at all. In fact, it made me unreasonably jealous, like, so jealous I felt like destroying something. Taking a baseball bat to the fancy car Carter drove and smashing out the headlights and windshield, slashing his tires and leaving it broken and useless.

“You are,” Jamie said knowingly, crossing her arms as she stared at me, frowning. Out of everyone who worked at the Dollhouse, Jamie was probably the nicest; she was the only one who went out of her way to speak to me anytime I worked. The others, I think, tried to steer clear of me because of Roman.

“I am not,” I muttered, and I couldn’t sound like a worse liar. I was. I knew it; she knew it, so why pretend otherwise?

“I told you, hun, to steer clear of Roman and Carter,” she said. “Now look at you—they have you wrapped around their fingers like you’re nothing but a toy, ready to be used.”

Even though they weren’t here, even though I just riled myself up with the thought of them with another woman, I couldn’t help but snap, “They only use me because I let them.” I didn’t think I’d ever sounded so bitchy while talking to Jamie. A part of me felt bad, but another part of me didn’t care; I didn’t appreciate what she’d said.

Jamie let out a laugh, and it was a sound that cut me to my core. “If that’s what you think, you’re further gone than I thought.” She didn’t let me get another word in, edgewise. She instead turned her back to me, indicating she was done with this conversation.

But you know what? So was I.

The next time I worked at the Dollhouse, Roman and Carter still didn’t show up. Carter hadn’t popped up in my apartment, either, leaving me to wonder just what the hell was going on. When Thursday arrived, yet another shift at the Dollhouse without hide or hair of either of them, I thought, fuck it.

Fuck it all.

I wasn’t going wait for them to show their sorry faces again; I had a job to do, and even though Roman Russo owned this place, he wasn’t here, and since Autumn stayed in her office unless there was an issue out here with one of the girls or the bouncers, I decided to get up on that stage and dance. I had to beg Ruby to let me take one of her scheduled performance slots, but after I told her I’d give her all the tips I got, she relented.

The tips didn’t matter. I didn’t need the money. I had an apartment full of shit I could always sell if I really came upon hard times, and beyond that, if I wanted to destroy my ego completely I could always go back home. No matter what, my mother and father would welcome me back with open arms. When you were rich, family was different. Things never worked out the same.

When it was time, I got up on that stage and swayed and moved, dancing my ass off with the music, being as sensual and erotic as I could without tearing off what I wore and doing it naked. I bet the male audience would like it better if I was nude, but no worker here was forced to take off their clothes if they didn’t want to—and even then, it was just the top half. The bottom half could never be completely bared… unless a certain someone took you into that backroom.

But, no, I wasn’t going to think about Roman or Carter, or anything that happened in that backroom.

I danced with a heart full of spite, a mind that was currently overthinking everything. I danced like I never danced before, swaying my body on that stage, putting myself on display for any and all. My parents would have aneurysms if they knew their eldest daughter worked at what was basically a strip club.

Oh, I’d love to see the looks on their faces when they found out, would love to be there to snap a picture to memorialize the moment. You know how they say a picture’s worth a thousand words? My parents’ faces would be worth a million each, easily.

Fuck them.

Fuck my parents, and fuck Roman and Carter and anyone else who thought they could walk all over me and discard me like trash. I know I might’ve said I would be okay with it, that whatever this was between Roman and I was just a temporary fling or something, but now my feelings were different. Now I didn’t want that. I didn’t want Roman and Carter dumping me for another girl; I didn’t want them to find someone better just like Bryan had.

When my time on the stage was done, I was damn near out of breath, sweating. I might’ve moved my hips a little too hard, worked on swinging myself around that pole a little too much; Crystal was right when she said pole dancing was a workout. No random person could just walk off the street and do it.

My eyes scanned the Dollhouse as I cleaned the stage of tips and walked off. Still no Roman, still no Carter. It was beyond stupid, but this was really bothering me. Like, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Ruby came up to me, and I shoved all the tips toward her, heading to the locker room to sit down and take a five-minute break. I ended up on the bench just before my locker, where my jacket and shorts were shoved. My ass was sweaty, and since I wore what was basically a thong with extra straps on my hips, my bare skin stuck to the bench.

I leaned over, staring at my hands. They hardly looked like my hands anymore. With my pink hair, the giant tattoo on me… my newfound style that always seemed to include those ungodly-bright tennis shoes—I hardly recognized myself in general, but I guess that was the point. I was never anyone before, just a daughter, just a girlfriend, not someone with her own identity.

Who knew all it would take was me walking into my sister’s room and catching my boyfriend pounding away between her legs?

Sighing, I ran my hands through my hair, trying to cool my body down after that dance. You know, out of all of the possibilities my mind came up with, there was one that I refused to think about: maybe something bad happened to them. Roman basically told me he killed people for a living, and that was bound to catch up to you sooner or later, wasn’t it?

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