Page 8 of The Heartbreaker
She turned the chair to face me and moved it closer, her knees briefly rubbing against mine as she crossed her legs. “I don’t know if I should admit this or not, but this is only my third shift and my very first time bringing a guest in here. So, to answer your question, I’m sure there are lots of assholes, but I’m not seasoned enough to know just how spicy they can get.”
For some reason, I really liked hearing that she was new and inexperienced.
“Third day on the job and your first private booking. Is it safe to assume you weren’t a stripper before you took the job here?”
She let out a burst of air that sounded like it came from her nose. “No.”
“New profession, then.”
Her head dropped. “New and very temporary.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Her eyes lifted. “You’ve already seen my boobs, Ridge. I think we’re past personal, don’t you?”
I laughed. “This question digs in a bit.”
She shrugged. “Try me.”
“What makes one decide to strip?” My hand went in the air. “I’m not knocking the profession—I want to make that clear. I’m just curious what made you choose this path.”
“Ah, that.” She sighed. “It’s a very good question. I think everyone in here probably has a different reason.” She glanced toward the door, which was closed, her arms appearing to tighten around her. “I’m not even going to lie. I almost chickened out before my first shift, wondering if I would survive and trying to come up with another option. But I figure I can do it for a couple of months—or however long it takes—and be done.It won’t be the hardest thing I ever overcome in my life—that’s for sure.”
“If it’s any consolation, you happen to be really good at it.”
“Oh, Ridge,” she exhaled, “I don’t know if I should laugh or cry from that statement.”
“Laugh. Always laugh.” I winked at her.
Her head shook. “I picked the wrong profession. My parents had warned me when I declared a major, and I didn’t listen. I went with my heart instead of my bank account. Wrong move, I guess.”
“And which profession is that?”
She smiled. “One that pays like shit.”
She wasn’t ready to open up. I could understand that.
The environment, I was sure, had something to do with it.
“Or maybe I should say, it’s a profession that doesn’t pay as well as this,” she clarified.
“Listen, there’s no shame in hustling. We all have to do it at some point or another, and that hustle looks different for everyone.” I was tempted to take out my phone and show her a picture of Daisy, but I kept it planted in my pocket. “I’ve got a little girl. I can tell you right now, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to provide for her. She’s my priority. She’s the reason I work as hard as I do.”
“How old?”
“She’s six, going on twenty-five. Smart as a whip. Hell of a lot smarter than me.”
She nodded, grinning. “And her mom?”
My head tilted as I took in Addy’s stunning face. “If her mom were in the picture, I wouldn’t be in this room right now. Remember … I’m one of the good ones.”
Her smile stayed wide.
“I want to go back for a second.” Because it was a question she’d danced around. “I told you my daughter is my reason and she’s what motivates me. What’s your reason?”
Whatever her answer was, was her breaking point. And I knew, without even hearing it, that it would teach me so much about who she was and what her life looked like.
One thing I knew for certain: this job wasn’t for the weak. It took serious balls to walk in that door and accept a position that came with the requirements she faced.
