Page 20 of Claiming Atlas
I nearly choke. “Jesus, Scarlet. Congratulations?”
“They’re definitely in order.”
From my peripherals, I can see her open up the button-down shirt. “Look.”
We come to a stop sign and I glance at her chest, then quickly take a longer look. There are hickeys on both breasts. “Scar, you can’t go to work like that. What were you thinking?”
She giggles. “I wasn’t.” As she buttons up the shirt again, she leans her head back and sighs happily. “I haven’t had a coherent thought for two whole days.”
“That good, huh?”
She doesn’t answer right away, so I glance to my right and meet her leveled gaze. “Better.”
“Still.” I shake my head. “You can’t go to work like that.”
She dismisses my words with a flick of her wrist. “I’ll use someone’s tattoo makeup. It will be fine.”
“Scarlet.”
She groans; she knows I’m right. “Okay, it’s fine. I don’t even need to work. It’s your night anyway. I wouldn’t want to take away any of the spotlight.” I look at her and she winks. “Plus, Brandon is coming in, so I’d rather just chill with him, you know?”
Frowning, I pull onto the highway. “And the Shakespears Sister routine? You’re going to, what, let me do it alone?”
Scar shakes her head. “You know me better than that, babe. I would never leave you hanging.” She looks out the window, one hand on her breast like she’s reliving how those hickeys got there in the first place. “I’ll just keep the corset on.”
We ride in silence the rest of the way. This is one of those times I keep my mouth shut for fear of saying something I’ll regret. And she seems content enough in her memories of the last few days, so I’ll let her have them. He hasn’t broken her heart yet, so I’ll keep my nose out of it.
I pull into our complex and park in my designated spot, then look at her as I turn off the car. “You have an hour to wash the last forty-eight hours off your body and get ready for tonight. Think you can do it?”
She laughs as she climbs out of the car, giving me an uninhibited view of her thighs. “Can I?” she asks, still laughing. “Yes. Do I want to?” She pulls Brandon’s shirt up to her nose to smell what’s left of his cologne on the fabric, and I gasp. I’m eye level with my best friend’s vagina.
She’s full commando beneath that dress shirt.
“Scarlet!” I shriek. “Kids live in this complex!” I get out of the car and look around for any onlookers.
“Relax, Kayla, it’s just avagina.”
###
WE’VE BEEN AT THE CLUBfor a few hours now, and I’m making bank. Every time the DJ announces that it’s my last night here, or anywhere for that matter, I swear my tips multiply like little green bunnies. I’m even doing the lap dance rounds tonight, giving the customers one last hurrah before I go. So many familiar faces have stopped by tonight, and as the clock creeps closer to midnight, my career winds to an end.
It feels... odd.
I’m not sad as much as I feel almost... nothing. Apathy?
It’s just kind ofmeh.
I don’t know what I expected, but I was hoping for some epic emotion tonight, some irreplaceable, can’t ever feel it again feeling. Something to really carry with me as I move back home and start my new life.
It’s time for my last routine, and I picked my favorite one for the final show. But as I go through the motions, getting into my Victorian era character, I can’t ignore the ache of disappointment. This should feel different, right?
“Oh no. I know that look.” Scar walks into the dressing room and sits beside me at the long vanity. “What’s wrong? You’re overthinking something.” She narrows her eyes and searches my gaze in the reflection in the mirror.
I laugh and cake more white makeup onto my face. “Usually.”
“Well,spill. We have a few minutes before we go out there.”
I glance at the clock on the wall behind me, then turn on my stool to look at her. “Um, we have exactly fifteen minutes, at most, and you’re nowhere near looking like the dark haired seductress I need for this song.”
