Page 15 of Reclaimed

“I know you’re here. You’ve been here since I was twelve and Nancy found me with two black eyes and a broken nose. You think I grew up with all of you and didn’t learn you have my back? Just give me some time to figure my shit out.”

Lee looks like he’s going to say something else, but then lets out a breath and nods. “Okay.”

Jack stops fidgeting with his keys and looks at our oldest brother.

“Okay?” I ask. “No more check-ins, no more pushy texts, no more obligatory invites to hang out?”

“If that’s what you want, we can give that to you.”

My shoulders sag with a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying. “Thank you.” I pick up my headset. “Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

“You’re kicking us out?” Corjan smirks as he moves toward the door.

“Don’t text or call unless it’s an emergency. I’ll reach out to you.”

“What about Sunday dinner at Mom’s?” Jack asks with one foot out the door.

“I’ll be there soon. When I’m ready.”

The club is crowdedwhen I arrive later that evening. Isla’s set has brought in increasingly more people. Week after week, more chairs fill. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if the club hits capacity soon.

I think back to the first night I saw her here. It must have been her return audition. A man dressed in a sharp black suit sat near the front right of the stage with an appraising look on his face. There were only a few men present during the late afternoon hour. It was only a couple weeks after I had found myself seeking the quiet place away from those who knew me well.

The second the music started, I could tell she was different than the other dancers. Her skills were more refined. Her moves tighter. Effortless. She threw her body around as if the pole was an extension of herself.

Before she was finished I tossed back my drink, threw a hundred-dollar bill on the stage, and walked out. It was the first time since I left the hospital that I was entirely captivated by something external.

She quieted the noise.

I went back the next night and the next, seeking the reprieve, until three days later I found her again.

And again I found myself sitting in blissful silence.

With a wave, I flag down the server and order my standard drink. A scowl slips into place as I find my usual seat occupied. I should have arrived earlier, but I lost track of time thinking about what my brothers said. I was trying to do better by not spending the entire evening in a stripper bar, and all I managed was to slip into a shitty mood and lose my preferred seat.

Now some other asshole will get to sit front and center. After what went down between Isla and me last week, the timing couldn’t be worse. I don’t want her to think I’ve lost interest. That I got my fill now that I made her come with only my hands. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I find a spot near the back and stand dead center, leaning against a short partition. With a drink in one hand and the other stuffed in my pocket, I wait for Isla to take the stage. The woman before her collects her tips with a flirty wink and wave.

My pulse kicks up, the beats tapping a swift rhythm in anticipation. The lights change and lower, casting the room in shadow. Just as suddenly as my heart sped up, it slows as Isla sashays across the stage.

I’m captivated during her set. The fifteen-minute show doesn’t sound like much, but with the way the audience roars, they’re eating her up. After working the first song on the pole, she moves into floor work for the next two, and the dollar bills are flying. She rolls from her front to her back, eating up her seductive role when our eyes finally lock across the expansive space.

Her red bra sparkles beneath the spotlight, glittering with every move.

I’m equal parts proud and jealous as she twists and spreads her legs, collecting money beneath her garter belt. Our eyes lock again. Her hand trails from her neck, tracing across her tits, down her stomach. She palms herself in the same way I did just a week ago, staring intently at me as she grinds against her hand.

I lift my glass to my lips, tossing back a tight swallow as I watch her finish her dance. Despite the crowd chanting for an encore, she leaves the stage.

Stellanever returns for an encore.

But I’m hoping Isla will.

I find the spot to pay for a dance. Same security guard. Same bored expression.

“Which girl?”

“Stella.”

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