Young Love Dies Hard: The Young Brothers, Book 1 by Nikki Lane (old books to read txt) 📗

been two weeks since Jacob had spoken to me in complete sentences. Everything was a yes or a no or a maybe. Not that it was all his fault. I’d been keeping my distance from him, worried that he’d ask me a question that I wouldn’t want to answer. That would only make the situation worse between us.

A few times, I’d thought about letting him go. He would be better off, I’d tell myself. It was bound to happen eventually. Save yourself the humiliation and get it over with. Nothing lasts forever—no matter how good. Even the tallest trees with the deepest roots would fall one day.

Jacob sat shirtless on the couch, staring into a book on the coffee table, Mischa in his lap. My gaze traveled over his tattooed shoulders and down his muscular arms. Words weren’t the only thing he’d been holding out on.

“I’m going to work,” I said in barely a whisper. I hated even just to the say the word “work” to him.

He looked up at me, his drooping mouth showing no sign of a smile. “Okay.”

I let out a small sigh and readjusted the bag on my shoulder. I opened my mouth to say something, but then decided against it. I had to be at work in forty-five minutes. Sal would blow a vein if I was late to the grand re-opening. Now wasn’t the time to get chatty.

“See you later tonight?” I asked, halfway through the door.

“Sure.” He didn’t bother to look up this time.

Coming home to Jacob after work was the best part of my day. But he’d barely acknowledged my existence. Having nothing to look forward to all night was going to make this night drag on forever.

I was not looking forward to it.

The club was already packed when I arrived. The busiest I’d ever seen it since I started working there. It seemed like every girl was on duty tonight. I barely made it to the dressing room without being ogled a thousand times, and I hadn’t even changed into my work clothes yet.

I found Sarah helping another girl with her makeup.

“Hey,” Sarah said. “Ain’t it great to be back?”

I flopped my bag on the vanity table. “Just grand.”

“This is Amy. It’s her first night.”

Like I couldn’t tell by the wide eyes and shaking leg.

“Hi, Amy.” I gave her a quick smile and then rummaged through my bag.

“Maeve, here, is one of the best dancers we got. Watch and learn.” Sarah popped her gum and continued to apply another coat of mascara on Amy’s fake lashes.

“Don’t let her fool you,” I said, taking off my top. “She’s the one to watch.”

Sarah smiled wide and winked. “Time for gloss, honey,” she said to Amy.

Amy parted her lips. “I’m so nervous.”

I slipped off my bottoms. “That’ll fade…eventually.”

“You got a boyfriend?” Sarah closed the lip gloss and tossed it back into the makeup bag.

“Yeah,” Amy said. “He’s here tonight.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “What?” she cried. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“That’s a first,” I said.

Amy looked like she wasn’t sure if our reactions were good or bad. “He said he wanted to make sure no one tried anything.”

“That’s what Donny’s for,” I said, stuffing my bag into my locker.

“Trust me,” Sarah said. “If you want any relationship outside of here to last, make sure the boyfriend stays home.” She turned her backside toward the mirror and adjusted her barely-there bottoms. “Besides, you’ll make more money when he’s not around.”

I left the dressing room as Sarah gave Amy the rundown of the do’s and do not’s and walked out to the floor. The bass of the music bombarded me. The music seemed louder than what I remembered.

“Maeve,” Sal shouted. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re next up.” The strobe lights went off, highlighting parts of his drooping eyes and double chin.

“But I just got here.”

“Go and change.”

I looked down at my clothes. “What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s the grand re-opening,” he said, like that was supposed to mean something special. “You gotta’ spice it up a little. They came to see something different. Not the same ol’thing.”

“But all I have is the same old thing.”

“Then borrow something from the other girls.”

“What?” I cried.

“Let’s go, kid. Don’t be late on that pole.”

“I can’t wear another girl’s clothes.”

“No?” he said, his bushy eyebrows lifting. “Then I guess you came here for nuttin’ then.”

I scowled and stomped back into the dressing room. I would only consider borrowing clothes from Sarah, and, thankfully, she’d brought a new outfit. The problem was she was a size smaller in the chest than I was.

I walked to the main stage, readjusting my top to make it stretch to cover a little more skin, and waited until the spotlight hit me. I had this mental picture of sliding upside down on the pole and my boobs just falling out. But I guess that was the whole point. They didn’t come here to see my fashion choices.

The DJ announced my fake name, and suddenly, I was the center of attention. It’d been two weeks since I’d done my routine, but it was like riding a bike. Some girls just spun around and shook their ass and tits in the customers’ faces. Not me. I had choreography. I put on a fucking show. That’s why Sal always put me on the main pole. And that’s why the money poured down.

I slinked up the pole and pushed myself to go a little higher than I’d ever gone before. The bass of the music pumped through my limbs. The overhead lights warmed by body. My skin was glazed with dewy sweat. I closed my eyes and felt the small whoosh of air that hit me as I slid back down. The crowd hooted and hollered, but I kept my eyes shut. I didn’t know why it was so hard to keep them open this time.

I had one more big move and then I would work the customers from the stage a little before