Page 23 of Ares

“Leaving?”

“When she came in tonight, she mentioned she might head back to—”

“Boston,” I say without thinking, my eyes still glued to the stage.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Why?” I ask, ignoring her question.

“Why what?”

“Why is she thinking of leaving?”

“Do I look like her mom? How the hell do I know?” She takes a drag on her cigarette and shrugs. “Kind of feels like she came here looking for something but didn’t find it, so she’s packing up sticks.”

Watching Rory slide her lithe body around the pole is making me hard.

“It’s not like you to look twice at any of the girls here,” Lacey adds.

I straighten and drain the rest of my drink. “And I’m not starting now.”

But Lacey gives me a knowing look. I must have interested written all over my face because I can’t tear my eyes off Rory.

“Can I suggest that if you were interested in making her acquaintance, tonight would be a good start,” Lacey suggests. “Although, you might have to get in line. Plenty of boys around here have tried, but she shoots them down like ducks in a barrel.”

I don’t say anything as I walk away and head toward the stage.

I can’t help it.

It’s like my feet have minds of their own.

I’m trapped in the light of the glitterball and being pulled toward something.

Not just her.

But something much bigger than both of us.

Need.

RORY

I love my job as a dancer.

Whenever I’m on stage, I see nothing but the twirling sparkles of the glitterball across the room and the spangle of light from the light show.

But I feel everything.

The pulse of the music thrumming through my veins.

The throb of power as I move my body to the beat.

The pull of strong muscles as I hook my leg around the pole and begin my routine.

There is something powerful and liberating when your body is syncopated to the music and your limbs move in harmony to the songs booming out from the sound system.

I never thought I’d be a dancer.

But when I moved here four weeks ago, I applied for a job as a bartender. Unfortunately, it turns out I suck as a drink slinger. I don’t know my Jack from my Jimmy, and that’s kind of important to folks around here. Lacey, the owner, fired me the first night. But I was desperate for money, so when she asked if I could dance, I figured I’d give it a go.

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