Page 19 of Desired By you (Always & Forever #3)

Chapter Fifteen

Gabriella

I made a complete ass of myself last night, and sitting here at my mother's WA lunch at the country club is my punishment.

“…. and so I told Amanda that if she wanted to avoid the penalty charge, she needed to clear up her front lawn. Honestly, it’s a disgrace,” my mother whines.

I take another sip of water and then tear a chunk off my bread roll with my teeth, praying it eases the nausea while I internally roll my eyes at my mother’s conversation with her friends.

I shuffle in my seat, the tweed material of the skirt itching the backs of my thighs, making me want to rip it off.

My mom leans into me and hisses through gritted teeth. “Don’t eat your bread like that, Gabriella, and will you say something?”

I chew my bread and don’t say a word. Lifting my spoon, I scoop it away from me into the soup and bring it to my lips.

It’s something green and pale that looks a lot like what I was hurling up last night.

I wince as the sickly taste hits my tongue and I swallow it down like it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

“Mmm, isn’t this soup delicious?” I say with a toothy smile. My mother’s friends all nod in synchronization like a pack of nodding dogs.

I turn to glance at my mother as she gives me a look that lets me know that she approves.

“It’s so lovely you could join us, Gabriella.

Your mother tells us how busy you are with city life in New York.

You young ones, living life. I was married and on my second baby by your age.

Is there anyone special in your life?” my mother's friend, Vanessa, asks with far too much interest for being casual. I’m all too familiar with that curiously disapproving tone, thanks to my mother.

Before I can speak, my mother places her hand over mine, letting me know she will take the lead here. “Gabriella has been seeing Janet’s son, Patrick, and I must say they look great together.”

Seeing is a bit of a stretch. I’ve had one date with him, and I’ve been avoiding his text messages.

“Speaking of… Patrick… over here,” my mother calls, waving. I follow her line of sight to where Patrick and a group of people, all wearing tennis attire, stand around the bar.

Oh, kill me now. The universe hates me today.

Patrick grins before making his way over to our table, and I want to shrink and hide.

“Hello, Mrs. Monroe,” he says, making my mother beam. “Good afternoon, ladies.” His eyes fall to me. “Gabriella.”

I give a weak smile. “Hello.”

“Oh, Patrick, please, call me Catharine,” my mother coos, and I nearly bring my bread roll and soup back up.

“Okay, Catharine. Gabriella, can I steal you for just for a minute?”

My mother takes my hand to haul me up out of my seat. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Gabriella can speak for herself.

I glare at my mom, and she glares back at me with a look I know means ‘behave and do as you’re told’.

Pressing my lips together, I smile and follow Patrick toward the bar.

“Did you get my texts? I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.” His tone is a little whiney and desperate and not at all appealing.

I let out a nervous laugh. God, I’m no good at this. “No, no, I’ve just been super busy. I was away, I’ve been working, and my friends got married yesterday so it’s been busy busy. I was going to text you,” I say, beginning to sweat.

“Well, good, because I was hoping to take you out again.”

An awkward silence falls between us. My gut tells me to say no, to stand up for myself, but I feel my mother’s eyes on my back, and with the pleading look Patrick gives me, I find myself caving. “Sure. When were you thinking?”

“Next week sometime? It’s Henry’s bachelor party tonight. We’re heading to New York.”

“Sounds good. You should try Aurora’s. They do great cocktails.”

Why did I say that? He doesn’t strike me as a cocktail man.

He does his familiar toothy smile and says, “I’ll check it out. So, I’ll call you later in the week and we can fix a date?”

I nod. “Sure.” Then, to my shock, he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek.

It’s quick, and yet I didn’t recoil. Hmm, maybe I judged him too quickly last time.

Maybe I am the problem. I write men off too quickly, and maybe I am being a little stubborn because it’s someone my mom set me up with.

I may not have recoiled in disgust when he just kissed my cheek, but I know I didn’t feel the way I did when Brad held me last night, and for a fleeting moment, I thought he might kiss me.

It’s all I’ve thought about this morning.

The memory makes my stomach contract and flutter.

I don’t have the time to wallow and think about my messed-up feelings towards my friend.

I turn on my heel and head back to the table of waiting women.

I take my seat and shuffle my chair in as I place my napkin over my lap, noticing all eyes on me.

“Is everyone okay?” I ask, confusion in my tone.

“Yes, darling. Just you and Patrick look so good together. What did he want?” my mother asks.

“Oh, he asked to take me out next week.” The table erupts into a chorus of pleased sounds.

“How lovely.” My purse hanging off the back of my chair begins to vibrate. My mom huffs. “Will you answer that. It keeps ringing. You should have turned it off, Gabriella. It’s very rude.”

I hurry to pull the phone free from my purse and see Luna’s name flash across the screen. “Sorry, it’s a work client. I need to take this,” I say, excusing myself. As I exit through the doors, I swipe my phone and bring it to my ear.

“Hello.”

“Finally, girl, I’ve been calling you all day,” Luna’s voice wails through the phone.

“Sorry, I’m at lunch with my mom. What’s up?”

“Just checking you’ll be there tonight. I’m heading early today.”

“Oh crap, I forgot.” I rub my forehead feeling a headache coming on.

“Please, Gabs.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be there.”

“Yessss. Thank you, thank you,” Luna yells so loudly that I have to pull the phone away from my ear as I chuckle.

“Okay, see you later. Bring your best moves. It’s going to be a busy night.”

I wait in anticipation for my cue to start spinning in the hoop. My skin tingles with nervous energy.

Every time I do this, I remind myself they can see me, but I can’t see them.

I always open the nights I work. I never venture off the stage.

I never give private dances. It’s been my little secret for two years.

Luna started here for some extra cash. She hates living off her parents, and she asked me along.

I did one night and I’ve worked one to two nights a week for the past two years.

I don’t do it for the money. No, I do it for the buzz, for the thrill of being wanted, desired, to have all eyes on me, but with no expectations, no judgment.

I feel powerful, in control, things I have lacked all my life, and it makes it all the more enjoyable knowing no one knows it’s me hidden behind my mask.

The men cheer as the hoop spins, and I contort my body.

The beat changes, and that’s my cue, along with four other girls, to enter through the curtain. The heat of the stage lights and the smell of liquor hit me as soon as I release the hoop, and it disappears up into the air. The roar of men’s voices booms over the music, and my blood starts pumping.

I make my way over to my usual spot, swaying my hips as I saunter to the opposite side of the stage.

I reach up and grip the pole and slowly walk around it, lifting my other hand and wrap it around the cool steel, then pressing my back and butt against it, sliding down and then working my way back up.

Whistles and cheers filter through the air, and I continue with my routine and with every passing beat and each turn and sway of my body, I grow more comfortable and thrive off the atmosphere.

The track changes. It’s slower and sultrier, and this is when most girls descend the stage and make their way through the audience, tempting men and encouraging them to request a private dance.

A moment of bravery flickers through me, and my feet carry me down the steps in front of me, and I walk around the tables next to my side of the stage.

I run a hand along the back of a man with light brown hair wearing a dark blue shirt.

“Yess, baby, you can come over here and sit on my lap…” one man from the group calls. I ignore his advances and move to the next table, where a large group of men sit. I spy Luna’s auburn hair flash under the lights, and I make my way over to her, swaying my hips seductively.

“Yes, honey… bring that sweet ass over here,” another man calls.

It should repulse me, and in any other setting, it would, but here, I feel safe.

A thrill zaps through me, and I lean into Luna, who’s wearing an emerald green leotard and a gold mask.

We move our bodies as one, earning more attention from the men at the table, and I feel high from the thrill of it.

The song starts to fade out, and Luna takes my hand and guides us both back up on stage to end. Two girls spin in hoops that hang above us. They look so elegant and ethereal and for just a second, I am so caught up watching them, that I forget I need to find my position on stage.

Spinning and dragging hands up and down my body, I turn and grip the pole, leaning my head back, my long, dark hair sweeping the floor as I arch my back.

I rotate my body so I am against the pole just as the song ends, the lights fade and cheers and whistles fill the room.

My breathing is ragged, my body on fire from exertion, but the feeling pulsing through me is euphoric.

We make our way backstage, everyone cheering and high fiving the successful performance. Only a few girls are due to go back out for another routine before the private dances go ahead in the side rooms.