Double Huge:A Twin Stepbrother Romance(2)

"Sam's been in the Army reserves ever since he finished active duty,"  she said. "Active duty was thirty years ago, but you know how he's so  patriotic, always diligently showing up for those weekend drills. Well, I  guess the government paid attention and now he's been called up," she  said sadly.

"Don't worry Mom, I'm sure it's going to be fine," I reassured her. "Sam  will be behind the lines, probably restricted to the green zone."

"I'm not sure," replied my mom tearfully. "I hear medics go out into  Kabul with the troops, and you know how Sam is. He'd volunteer for the  front line just to make sure his brothers are safe."

It was probably true and there was nothing good that could come of this, so I just made soothing noises.

"Don't worry Ma, everything's going to be alright, just hold tight. How long is his deployment?" I asked.

"A year," she cried. "And we just got married!"

"That's no time at all," I soothed again. "The United States isn't going  to make you into a widow so fast," I said. Oops, major boo-boo because  my mom wailed even louder.

But I hastened to correct my mistake, smoothing things over.

"You're going to be alright, okay Ma? Just go to the hospital as usual,  and everything's gonna be fine. The kids at work love you, don't let  them down just because of this."

She sobbed a bit more and sniffled, but calmed a bit.

"Thanks Melly. You take care too, okay? How is school? Are the people at Trinity nice? How are they treating you?" she asked.

"It's great, the people are great," I reassured her. And the truth was  Trinity was pretty awesome  …  except for the tuition bill sitting on top  of my dresser. I wanted to talk to her about next year's fees but now  didn't seem like the time.

"Well honey, we love you but try to save a little during the coming year  okay? Sam's going to be paid an Army wage, which is almost nothing, and  you know how little I make as a nurse. So be frugal okay, baby? Is  there any way you could get a part-time job?"

I could almost hear a big steel door clanging shut on my dreams but I kept my voice steady for the sake of my mom.

"Sure, I can find a job, Ma," I said. "Let me just go to the Student  Learning Center and take a peek, they have a job board over there. Don't  worry about a thing," I promised.

"Thanks baby," she sniffled. "Hang in there, okay? And you're coming home in two weeks, right?"

Oh shit. That's right, I'd promised to come home to spend some quality  time with her, my first visit home since starting freshman year.

"Yep, that's right Ma, I'm going to drive up, so see you then!" I said  with fake cheeriness. I hung up on a high note, but my chest felt tight,  and a cloud of panic was descending on my brain. Not only was my  stepdad going to war, but I had no way of paying next semester's  tuition. What was I going to do?





CHAPTER THREE


Melanie




The crowds were raucous and noisy from behind the velvet curtain. I  twisted the tie on my g-string and fidgeted uncertainly. This idea  didn't seem so good anymore.

I'd been sitting dumbly in my dorm room, staring at the tuition bill  again when my roommate Lauren came back from class, dumping her backpack  onto the bed.

"Hey Melly, what's up?" she'd asked carelessly, tossing her jacket onto  the bed. It was one of the distressed denim ones, the kind that looks  beat-up but was actually really expensive.

We'd gotten to be friends over the couple weeks we'd been living together, and I felt comfortable enough to confide.

"Did you get your tuition bill yet?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, that thing," said Lauren, squinching up her nose. "It was  fucking unbelievable right? Forty-six thousand? It's fucking grand  larceny, and that didn't even include extra fees and housing," she said.         

     



 

I shook my head slowly, feeling defeated.

"It's just that  …  honestly, I don't know if I'm still going to be here,"  I confessed. "My stepdad just got called up to Afghanistan, so he's  getting military pay now, and my mom doesn't have the cash to make up  the shortfall," I said quietly. "I mean, I love Trinity, but my family  can't afford for me to be here, not really."

Lauren was silent for a bit. I could understand her awkwardness. As a  rich girl, it was probably the first time she was putting herself in  someone else's shoes, and she probably didn't know what to say. But  Lauren surprised me.

"Mel, you know I'm not from a wealthy family, right?" said Lauren  slowly. "I mean, I have expensive shit and stuff, but I pay for it  myself. I don't have a Daddy Warbucks. In fact, I'm footing the bill  here at Trinity on my own."

My mouth fell open. Really? Unless she had some kind of trust fund, I  didn't see how any eighteen year-old could afford this school.

But Lauren just shook her head.

"I dance, Mel," she stated. Seeing my look of confusion, she clarified. "I'm a stripper at the Donkey Club in the City."

Donkey Club? Which city? What was she talking about?

Sighing, she began to explain.

"You know how I disappear every weekend to see my boyfriend up at NYU?  Well, I go up to New York City  …  but it's not because I have a  boyfriend," she said. "I'm a stripper at a joint up there called the  Donkey Club. It's not one of the high-end places, but there's a niche  for "school girl cream," as they like to call it."

"In fact, I often bring a lot of Trinity gear up with me, and that's my  routine," she said. "My spiel is that I'm a Trinity co-ed, wearing a  Trinity bikini and skirt, and it all comes off over the course of a few  minutes."

My mouth hung open. It was true that Lauren owned a ton of Trinity gear  but I'd never suspected that it was a costume and props. I'd just  figured she had a lot of school spirit.

But I could kind of see it. Lauren was blonde and gorgeous with a  worldly, experienced air. Guys would love seeing her on-stage, parading  that perfect bod.

Plus, she could pull it off. I'd never questioned that she had a  long-term boyfriend in New York whom she visited every weekend. It fit  in perfectly with her mature demeanor, the sophisticated way she smoked  cigarettes and seemed to know everything already, despite the fact we  were both freshmen.

I took a deep breath and decided not to beat around the bush.

"Do you think the Donkey Club would have room for someone like me?" I'd asked, trying to be brave.

Lauren looked me up and down, taking in my riotous brown hair, curvy shape and alabaster skin.

"I know they do," she replied confidently. "Come with me next weekend, and you'll pull in the big bucks, I promise."





CHAPTER FOUR


Melanie




This was turning out to be a bad idea. When we'd arrived at the club, the bouncer had eyed us skeptically.

"IDs," he ground out.

"Please," said Lauren haughtily, tilting her perfect ski-slope nose.  "Don't you remember me from last weekend? I dance here, I've already  been vetted by management."

"I don't care if you're fucking Mother Teresa," said the big black guy. "So long as you're twenty-one."

But he seemed to recognize her and with a sigh, pulled the velveteen  curtain back. We sashayed in, Lauren with the air of a queen, me like a  mouse trying to find my bearings.

"Stand up straight!" she hissed. "Arch your back! Look glamorous!"

I did as she asked, trying not to feel self-conscious and shy. But of  course, that was impossible. The Donkey Club itself was not a vote of  confidence. A dirty low-slung bar took up most of the space, with three  poles in the center, spotlights of gold highlighting the dancers  wriggling and twisting. Peanut shells littered the floor and the  clientele weren't exactly the cream of the crop. I could see a couple  missing teeth, some sunburns, steel-toed boots and cowboys hats all  around.

"Where do these guys come from?" I asked with wonderment. We were on the  west side of Manhattan, in the middle of a concrete jungle, surrounded  by skyscrapers and guys in thousand-dollar suits. Where did they find  these rednecks?         

     



 

But Lauren just shrugged. "Listen, the customers pay and that's what  we're here for right? We can't dance at the bigger clubs because they  want girls to work three or four nights a week and we're not local."  That was true. We'd taken the bus up from Virginia and it'd been a  hellish eight-hour ride, cramped and stuffy.

Plus, I needed the money and was willing to do what it took. I followed  Lauren to the back room, where she knocked before opening the door with a  proprietary air. A seedy looking dude in an ill-fitting suit looked up,  his hand stilling suspiciously beneath his desk, hastily switching off  his computer. No doubt he'd been stroking himself to some porn.

"Ralph," said Lauren silkily. "This is my friend Melanie. You know how  Renata quit last week? Well, I figured Mel could fill in on the ‘Dirty  Co-eds' video."