Troubled Indeed

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

We get back to the car and I can see he's in no mood to talk. Yet, his dark layers are peeling off little by little and none of this has scared me away so far. I wish he would just trust me and open up to me completely.

"I think we have to talk," I say as I sit in the passenger seat next to him.

"I think we don't," he says, sulking.

What is it about this strip club? If he didn't want me to find out about it then why tell me the name, or bring me here?

"Okay. Well, I'm going to talk anyway. Why did you bring me here if you didn't want me to see this place?"

"I told you to wait in the fucking car. Why did you have to go in?" He sounds defeated.

"I was curious, I told you. Besides, what harm did I do in looking around a little bit? All I did was meet a lovely bartender woman, that's it. Why is it so hard for you to include me in your life?" I sound desperate, I know, but I feel like we keep circling back to the same topic over and over again, and frankly, I'm getting tired of it.

"I don't want to drag you down with me," he admits.

"Drag me down where?" I'm getting seriously annoyed.

"I didn't want you to be involved in this kind of lifestyle. I don't want you to go inside some strip club, deal with gangsters, get beaten by them, or see someone die. I blame myself every fucking day for what happened at Lesh," he says angrily.

This gives me a whole new perspective. He didn't want me to know what his "business" is because it's dirty. All he ever wanted was to protect me. I can't break down now, even though I can feel tears pooling in my eyes. He blames himself every day for what happened... Even though it's not his fault. Blame was a fucked-up character to begin with. I take a deep breath.

"Okay, seriously that happened once. And I assume it will never happen again."

He rolls his eyes, but before he says anything, I just keep talking.

"And you didn't drag me anywhere, I chose to be with you, and even though you still keep putting up a fight about it, I know your past is not the purest. And I don't care. I don't care if you're a stripper or a pimp. I still love you."

I think I see him smile a little bit.

"Still, I think it's best if you keep away from this place," he says in a low tone, "For your safety."

"But you'll keep coming back here?" I ask without any enthusiasm.

"Yes."

"But why?" I don't get it. Does he get his juices going while watching girls strip in front of him and then... then what? Does he fuck them? Tonya told me he's a changed man, but I also know that old habits die hard. I need an answer.

"I own this place," he finally admits after the longest pause.

My eyes go wide, and I can't seem to form a sentence. Heck, I think I forgot all the words. He owns a strip club? That I did not expect. I look out the window, at that building in front of me and don't know what to think of it. So... my man owns a strip club, so what? Except, whenever he's in here there are probably dozens of half-naked girls batting their eyelashes at him and squishing their tits in his face. I shudder.

"Say something," he pleads after waiting for my reaction for a while.

"I...um...don't know what to say," I admit.

"I know you have some follow-up questions as usual," he tries to get me to talk.

I think I'm in shock. It takes me a couple of minutes to wrap my head around the information I just got. My lover owns a strip club. I don't know what to think of it. But then one question does come to mind.

"How did you get a strip club?" I ask him.

He sighs and rolls his eyes again. He bites the inside of his lower lip as if not wanting to tell me anything.

"You really want to know?" he asks me, double-checking.

"Sure, why not," I say casually, but his question makes me skeptical. Is there something he's about to reveal that he knows I'm not going to like? My heart is banging against my chest, and I feel like throwing up. But I try to remain cool and not flip out in front of him, because if I do that now I'm going to be left out of the loop for the rest of our relationship.

"Alright, I guess...But what I'm about to tell you has to remain between us. Can I trust you with that?" He looks at me, waiting for an answer.

I nod. I'm afraid if I open my mouth, I'm going to say something stupid and ruin this moment of honesty on his part.

"I used to work here as a bouncer. I told you before, that I was on my own since I was sixteen, and Blame's father took me in," he begins.

I nod. I remember him telling me the sad story of his father's passing and that he was left with a huge debt that Anthony had to take care of. Except he couldn't, at least not legally, because his dad owed a gangster.

"So, I worked my ass off until I was twenty-one. It was around that time I had finally paid off my father's debt and was basically free to do whatever I wanted. Except, I had very limited options without an education and with the lifestyle and police records I had by that time. So, Blame's father and the co-owner of the place offered me the position of a bouncer here," he casually points his index finger towards the building in front of us, not really looking at it.

"I took it because it seemed like a normal job at that time. Back then Blame and I were hanging out here a lot anyway, so it seemed convenient. Except I didn't know that my job had some extra duties." He stops for a moment to check if I'm following his story.

"What extra duties?" I can't help myself asking this.

"Everything the darker side of that lifestyle had to offer. Drugs, guns, hookers, boosting cars... you name it, I've probably seen it or helped someone do it. But I'm not complaining here, I finally had money to burn."