Page 38 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

Chapter Twenty

The guys loaded into two Suburban’s and left the bowling alley, pulling into the dismal Atlanta Friday night traffic. Disappointed, Hart clicked off his phone and held it on his lap. His friend Mitch was right. He was in love with Gia. When the realization hit him over the head like a baseball bat, all he wanted to do was tell her. He wanted to say the words, “I love you” to Gia Bates. When she didn’t answer her phone, he assumed she was probably in the middle of her Marilyn act. He smiled, thinking back to that first night when she came waltzing into the country club dining room in her Monroe get-up. Little did he know she was the one who would steal his heart. On a whim, he decided to text those three little words to her. Maybe when she was finished performing, his words might cheer her up after all she had been going through and finally help her to decide if she wanted to move in with him once and for all. He couldn’t blame her for being cautious; after all, she had been on her own for most of her life. Perhaps his text would set things straight in her mind, and she’d say, “yes” to being with him on a permanent basis.

“What are you doing, man?” Mitch eyed Hart’s phone.

“Sending Gia a message. Something I should have told her last night.” He hit the send button and leaned back contentedly, ready to celebrate. “Where are we going anyway?”

Mitch grinned while another friend chimed in, “White Satin. It wouldn’t be a real bachelor party without going to a strip club!”

“Sophie’s not going to be happy about this!” Mitch bemoaned loudly. “But I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” All the guys in the car whooped and hollered, the alcohol they had consumed earlier giving everyone a healthy buzz.

Hart looked out the window as the car service pulled into the VIP drop-off of the club, illuminated with dramatic up-lighting. Over the years, he had been to countless strip clubs, never giving it a second thought. Tonight, however, was different. Knowing Gia’s story about her mother and her upbringing hit too close to home. He wasn’t sure if going in would be appropriate, especially after telling Gia he loved her. This certainly wasn’t showing any love for her.

“Come on. You got my back; I got yours. Just a couple of drinks and we’ll call it a night.” Mitch grabbed him by the forearm as if sensing his hesitation and hoisted him out of the car.

The music was thumping, and the place was packed. A cloud of smoke hung in the air in the dark confines of the building. Scantily dressed cocktail waitresses arrived at their VIP table in an instant, flirting and batting their eyes at the crew of well-dressed, upper-class Atlanta men who had just arrived. Whiskey shots and cigars were ordered and delivered in record time, the alcohol traveling down Hart’s throat soothing his nerves. A trio of topless ladies danced and swung on silver poles on the stage while the first few rows of rowdy men waved money in the air, urging them to take it all off. If Gia knew he was here, she’d never forgive him. This foul place had been a sad reality in her young life, stealing her mother away and into the arms of sex, drugs, and greed. He felt nauseous and wanted to leave.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Mitch stood, blocking his escape.

“I gotta piss, man. I’ll be right back.”

Mitch tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Hart nodded and smiled. “I’ll be right back,” he said reassuringly. As he slowly made his way to the front of the house, the music stopped, and the lights dimmed. A low rumbly voice came over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, The White Satin is pleased to introduce a new Satin Doll in our lineup this evening. Please welcome… Miss Georgia B.”

The little hairs on the back of Hart’s neck stood straight up. Slowly, he turned around with wide eyes and watched as a woman came out to the center of the stage. She posed under a single spotlight, one long leg pointed out from her side, one hand on her hip and the other hand splayed behind an embellished purple fedora hat with black lace trim hiding her face. She was wearing purple stilettos and a dramatic purple waistcoat adorned with crystals that shimmered in the hot light. A white, high-collar satin shirt layered with chiffon ruffles peeked from behind the theatrical coat covering her entire upper body. The only exposed skin was on her long, sky-high dancer’s legs. He could recognize those legs anywhere.

The thumping bass and keyboard of the familiar Prince tune, The Beautiful Ones started, and she began to move effortlessly on stage to whoops and hollers from the crowd. A smoke machine had been turned on, and billows of soft plumes poured out from behind purple LED lighting upstage. Hart held his breath, his hands fisting at his sides, not sure how to react. She was mesmerizing to watch, hypnotizing him, making him freeze in place. Several patrons bumped into him as he stood motionless in the aisle, unable to take his eyes off her.

She peeled the jacket off, revealing her bare arms in the sleeveless, high-collar shirt. When she suddenly grabbed at the ruffles and jerked them to the side, he was jolted wide awake staring at her crystal-encrusted bra underneath. Kicking and moving her hips seductively, she had the entire audience in a trance. When she finally flung the fedora off, revealing her dark, bobbed hair and dramatic blue eyes, Hart couldn’t take it anymore. He bolted toward the stage only to be met by a very large, ebony-skinned man who stopped him in his tracks.

“No, sir. No touching the Satin Dolls.” The big house-of-a-man grabbed him gruffly by the arm and started to escort him to a side door. His buddy Mitch was by his side in an instant.

“Dude! What’s going on?” he yelled over the loud music.

Hart panicked, looking over his shoulder at the stage. Gia was in nothing but her bra and g-string at this point, Prince screaming the lyrics of the iconic song in painful angst as the crowd hollered with pleasure. Without a second thought, Hart started yelling and punching at the man who held him, trying to get away. Several blows hit the guy in the face.

“Gia! Gia! Stop—don’t do this!”

Startled by his familiar voice, she squinted in the bright light and looked around, shading her eyes with her hand, stopping the performance. The crowd started to boo.

“Gia! Over here! Stop!” he suddenly broke free and was almost to the stage when out of the blue, a massive fist met his face with a bam, sending a shock of instant pain to his cheek. He stumbled before his eyes rolled back into his head and he saw stars.

*

Gia knew it was Hart’s voice she had heard. She could barely make out the commotion near the front of the stage, the Prince song continuing to blast in her ears among the hazy fog in the building. Her chest was heaving with adrenaline as she tried to figure out what was happening, the crowd of patrons egging her on to continue. With shaking hands, she bent down and picked up the costume pieces she had thrown off and gathered them in her arms. Her once active muscles felt like pudding, the Valium she had taken earlier not helping at the moment. Quickly, she darted stage right, straight into the arms of Franko Bartelli. He was not happy.

“You’re not finished, doll. The song’s not over.” He eyed her menacingly up and down, his fingertips digging into the white flesh of her arm. Grabbing the stuff out of her arms, he pushed her back onto the stage. She stumbled before regaining her balance and stood in the brightness of the spotlight, feeling as if she were already naked and exposed. Glancing back at Franko, he gave her a reassuring nod. Trembling, she bent over and very slowly, took off her shoes as if it were a part of her act. Looking at Franko one last time, she cursed under her breath before she ran to the other side of the stage and made a beeline for the dressing room, locking the door behind her. Very quickly, she shoved her clothes into a bag and grabbed her purse. Franko was cursing and pounding on the door.

“Georgia! Get the fuck out here right now! Georgia!”

There was no escaping. The only way out was through the door she had come in. Backing up to the farthest corner, she gripped her possessions at her chest and slid down the wall to the floor in defeat. She had ruined everything good in her life. It was over.

Music continued to thump from the stage and she wondered who had stepped in to save the day. Was it sweet Charity? Maybe one of the other tattooed girls? The minutes ticked agonizingly by before a jangling of keys could be heard, and the door opened wide. She looked up and her eyes locked in on Hart. Drops of blood stained his white shirt, and a menacing bruise was noticeable across his face. His hair was disheveled and his expression morose. He slowly closed the door behind him.

Gia couldn’t move and clutched her belongings to her chest, shaking uncontrollably. She tensed as Hart approached and kneeled in front of her. His brow furrowed as he cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes with intensity.

“Just breathe,” he said gently. “I know you’re on something. I can see it in your eyes.”

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