The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (29 page)

I held on as long as I could, but it was too much. It was too intense and after a few bars, I couldn’t handle any more. Not with him looking at me, his eyes boring into me, seeing into me, singing the words from my heart. The words that were originally meant for my journal. They were my feelings, my deepest thoughts and emotions.
 

I looked around the room, hoping beyond hope that everyone would be sleeping or at the very least, flipping through their songbooks, looking for the next song they all knew. But every person in the room was riveted to the man behind the keyboard. The man who was singing my heart. It broke me.
 

“Excuse me,” I muttered and pushed away from the table.

Grams clasped onto me, her hand locking around my arm. “Whitney,” she hissed. “Sit down.”
 

And for a moment, I did.
 

Cracked don’t mean it’s broken
 

Cracked don’t mean I’m broke
 

May be, cracked but I ain’t broken
 

Don’t give up now; don’t give up on me, girl

The chorus broke me.

“No,” I told her and shook her off. “I have to go.” I pushed my chair back; it fell to the floor in a clatter but I didn’t care. I squeezed my way through the tables and chairs as quickly as I could and out the front door. The cold air was a welcome shock but it wasn’t enough. I fell back against the brick wall and gasped for as much breath as I could force into my lungs. Through the door, I could still hear him singing my words. A tear slipped out the corner of my eye. The song was heartbreakingly beautiful and there was only one thing I could think to do.
 

I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket, held it in my hands and stared at it. William was supervising a field trip to the mountains, where they were studying rock formations or something. He’d be gone for a few days. He wouldn’t take my call and I knew it. I dialed.
 

When his voice was done telling me to leave a message, I did just that. “William, we need to talk.” I took a deep breath and continued, “I’m sorry but I can’t marry you. You just…you don’t know me.” My voice shook but I forced myself to say what I needed to. I may have only been talking to voicemail but it didn’t matter. “You don’t know the real me and I don’t think you ever have.” I closed my eyes, because in that moment I realized it was my fault he didn’t know me. I hid everything from anyone who’d ever tried to get close. I never gave anyone a chance to know me, so how could I be angry with anyone but myself? “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
 

I clicked off the phone and took a deep breath, for the first time feeling the air fill me up. It felt freer to tell William how I felt, but there was something else, too. An overwhelming sadness settled over me to think of how much time I’d wasted hiding from myself, not letting anyone in. That’s what Kat had been trying to tell me. And Grams. Every time they told me a guy wasn’t “me.” There was only one man who—

“Are you okay?” I spun around and directly into the arms of Reid. So caught up in my own emotional breakthrough or breakdown, or whatever it was, I hadn’t noticed the music had stopped. “Whitney?” He grabbed my arms and the touch was so gentle the tears that had been building spilled forward.
 

I looked at him through a watery veil and nodded. “I’m fine.” Realizing how ridiculous that must sound considering I was falling into splinters right in front of him, I tried to smile. “Really, I am.”

“Was it the song? I wanted it to be a surprise but if you weren’t ready…Whit, I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

“No,” I said, and meant it. “It was beautiful. Thank you for doing that. It was just a little hard to hear, is all. But I needed to hear it.”

Reid looked me directly in the eyes and nodded so slightly I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching for it. “Did it help?” he asked. “To hear your truth sung by someone else?”
 

“You have no idea.” And then, because it was the only thing left to do, I leaned forward and kissed him. Unlike the other night, and the kiss that was tentative and exploring, this kiss was strong and sure and my body responded instantly to his demands. My lips pressed into his with an urgency that had been building from the first night Reid walked into my kitchen. His arms slid around me, pulling me close so that every inch of our bodies were pressed together, but it still wasn’t enough. Without breaking our connection, I let my hand travel up the side of his face, slowing over the stubble on his chin that pricked at my fingertips. I stroked his cheek, and finally let my fingers curl through his slightly long, in need of a cut, hair that I loved. He groaned and lightly bit my bottom lip. I responded by bringing my other hand up to his head, pulling him deeper into my mouth.
 

We could have been out there all day, lost in each other. And we might have been, too, if it wasn’t for a knock on the window. We pulled away at the same time, but Reid didn’t loosen his hold on me. Together, we turned toward to look directly at Hilda and a few of the other seniors watching, their noses pressed up against the glass. My face flushed and I could feel the heat flooding through me. But instead of letting myself hide, I burst into laughter.
 

“Looks like we have an audience,” Reid said.
 

One of the ladies pointed to her wrist.
 

“I think your fan club is growing restless,” I said. “You should probably get back in there.”
 

He kissed me again, this time lingering just a little. When he pulled away and released me, he said, “We’ll finish this later.”

Shivers flew down my spine, leaving me momentarily speechless and my mind reeling about how exactly we’d finish what we started. I nodded and watched as he turned to open the door.

“Reid.” He stopped and turned around. “Did they like the song?” I asked. “When you played it for them. Did they like it?”

A smile crawled across his face, and if I’d been a teenage girl I would have melted. “They loved it,” he said. And I believed him.

Patty - June 2002

Patty
 

June 2002

“Patty, you need to be on stage in five minutes.” She heard Stan’s voice calling her through the fog. She lifted her head off the table and then without looking around, put it down on the bar again. Maybe if she pretended to be sleeping, he’d leave her alone.

“Patty.” No such luck. “Wake up.” He sounded mad. Patty looked up and into the face of the man she loved. He was mad. “You need to get ready,” he said. “You’re on soon.”
 

She turned her head slowly. Any faster and the dizziness would take over her vision. She looked at the stage, and the woman, Cristal maybe, laying on a blanket with her legs in the air. She wasn’t very original, Patty thought and snorted.
 

“Patty, look at me.” Stan twisted her so she was facing him again. His face swam in her vision and she reached out to touch his cheek and steady it.
 

“You’re beautiful,” she slurred.
 

“Dammit, Patty.” He caught her hand in his and waved at the bartender with the other. “How much did you drink?”
 

She shrugged and tried to pull her hand away.
 

“Tell me.”

With her free hand, Patty held up two fingers. Then three. Then she tried to give him a high five and dissolved into giggles.
 

“Give me a cup of coffee, black,” Stan barked at the bartender. “And go tell Mysti to take the stage. Patty’s done tonight.”

“I’m not dumb.”

“Done,” Stan said. The look on his face was a cross between pity and pissed off. It was a fine line. “Come on.” He hauled her off the stool, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her, half dragging her, to the back hallway and up the stairs to the locker room.
 

“Stan,” Patty protested. “I gotta dance. I gotta—”

“What you have to do is sleep it off.” He put her on the tattered couch, pushing a pile of hair pieces to the floor, and sat next to her. “Baby, you can’t keep doing this.” His touch was tender as he brushed the hair from her face. “It has to stop.”
 

Patty nodded. She may or may not remember their conversation later, but it was one they’d had before and she knew Stan was right. “I know,” she whispered.
 

“Rest now.” He was always so tender and sweet. Even when she didn’t deserve it. He loved her. The thought came to her and she almost started crying. She knew she didn’t deserve him. Not when she couldn’t pull herself together. “Hey,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “Don’t get sad. It’s just the booze. Sleep it off and I’ll come back to check on you in a bit, okay?”
 

Patty nodded again. Her eyes were heavy, and they began to close as Stan slowly stroked her hair. There was no point fighting it, because sleep was better then the alternative and even in her current state, she knew it.

***

Patty wasn’t sure how long she’d slept. But when she woke up and rubbed at her eyes, the dizziness and blurry vision was gone. All that was left was the familiar heavy head, pulsing temple, and sticky mouth. She pulled herself together enough to venture out of the locker room and down to the club in search of Stan, and a glass of water to rid herself of the nasty taste in her mouth.

The Lusty Lady was busy, which wasn’t unusual. At least not for an evening. It was unusual, however, for the afternoon shift to have a full house. She wove her way through the crowd, careful not to make eye contact with any of the patrons. She was in no shape to work, even if it was packed.
 

“A glass of water, Jim,” Patty called to the bartender and squished into an available seat at the end of the bar.
 

A minute later, he appeared with the water and two painkillers. “For your head,” he said with a knowing smile.
 

Patty nodded a thank-you and swallowed the pills. She held the glass up to her forehead, letting the coolness soothe her pounding head. “Why is it so busy in here?” she asked after a moment.
 

“It’s always busy Friday nights, Patty.” He worked while he talked, grabbing beer bottles and lining them up on a tray. “Don’t tell me the alcohol’s killing your brain cells now, is it?”

She looked down, not wanting Jim to see her embarrassment. If it was Friday night, that meant she’d slept through an entire shift, and likely half of the night, too. She didn’t bother asking Jim what time it was. Whatever the answer was, it was too late. “Have you see Stan lately? Is he still here?”

She knew he was. He wouldn’t have left her.
 

Jim smiled at her, but it was more of a pity smile than anything else. “I think he’s in his office.” She moved to push up from the bar, but froze when Jim added, “But Patty, he was with a girl.”
 

There was something in his voice and the look on his face that told Patty Stan wasn’t interviewing a new girl in his office, and ice flowed through her veins. Despite being surrounded by naked women all day, Stan had never strayed. He was committed to her and he’d never given Patty a reason to doubt him. That didn’t mean she didn’t still have her suspicions. After all, what man could possibly resist the temptation he faced every day? It wasn’t natural.
 

“Thanks, Jim,” Patty managed to stutter, before standing. She ran her hands down her dress, pointlessly trying to straighten it, and fluffed her hair. She ignored the pounding bass “Highway to Hell,” a favorite of the dancers, was causing in her head, and with confidence she didn’t really feel, Patty made her way across the floor to the door of Stan’s office.
 

Thankfully, the alcohol still in her system had numbed her enough to steel herself against what she might see when she opened the door. So, without hesitation, she put her hand on the knob and turned.
 

Unlocked.
 

Patty pulled the door open, revealing Stan and…Whitney, sitting across from his desk, sipping a soda.
 

“Mom.”

“Patty.”
 

Whitney jumped up but froze in place before she could approach Patty. Stunned, Patty didn’t move either. She looked between them, settling finally on her daughter who’d never set foot in the Lusty Lady before. Patty closed her eyes briefly against the look on Whitney’s face, a mixture of confusion and disgust that seared into Patty’s brain.
 

“What are you doing here?” Patty demanded. “You shouldn’t be here.” She swung her gaze to Stan. “She shouldn’t be here, Stan.”

“Patty, why don’t you come in and close the door?”

Patty turned to grab the door handle right as a topless girl she didn’t recognize walked past with a balding businessman in tow. She quickly slammed the door and turned back to Whitney. She did her best to ignore the look Whitney was giving her, and asked, “Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“Me?” Whitney yelled.

“Which is why I brought her back to the office,” Stan intervened. He stood and walked around the desk. “I didn’t think it was a great idea to leave her out there.” He put his arm around Patty, who was staring dumbly at her daughter. Whitney had never raised her voice at her. “Come, sit,” he said. “We can all talk about this. Are you feeling better?”
 

Patty nodded dumbly and sat in the chair Stan pulled out. She risked a glance at Whitney, who was glaring in her direction. It didn’t make sense seeing Whitney, who was only sixteen, inside the Lusty Lady. The two worlds were supposed to be separate. She’d done her best to keep them separate.

“I told Whitney you were feeling a bit under the weather,” he said. He gave Patty a pointed look. She nodded and in that moment snapped out of the shock of seeing her daughter and focused instead on what she thought about what she did for a living.

“Yes,” Patty said to Whitney. “But I’m feeling much better now. Why are you here?” she asked and then quickly added, “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but you shouldn’t be here. It’s really no place for you.”