Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1)(48)

Fully nude? My stomach twisted again.

The room went wild when the lights dimmed and the volume of the music  went up several decibels. Tasha, Mona, Pam, and Hayley clapped and  howled with the rest of the room, but all I could think about was the  fact that I didn't imagine the next time I'd see Marco naked would be  like this.

This life was a side of him I'd only been made aware of recently. And,  while I in no way judged his decision to perform here, I was admittedly  uneasy about what it would mean for us moving forward.

I looked around, taking it all in, realizing I pictured it all wrong. In  my head, this place was supposed to be some small, hole-in-the wall,  seedy joint filled with smoke and desperation. However, I misjudged. It  was clean, upscale, and huge.

The black, lacquer-coated stage formed a T, with its base extending out  into the audience, outlined in tiny, white lights beneath the surface.  Above, an extensive lighting system shined blue, green, and red lights  down where the dancers would be when they eventually graced the room.  Even the bar was classy. A team of buff bartenders with matching tight,  black, Indecent Exposure t-shirts stood behind the counter, serving the  club's patrons.

"Ladies, ladies, ladies!" Came a loud, female voice through the several  speakers near our table. I glanced toward the DJ booth and found a woman  about my age and complexion holding the mic. "Are you ready for the  fellas?" she yelled loudly, drawing out her last syllable as the women  screamed, feeding the excitement in the room.

"Well …  if that's what you want," the emcee yelled back, "You're gonna have to begggggggg for it!"

The volume in the room increased tenfold and I distinctly heard Marco's  name being yelled from several different areas within the crowd.

"Now that's more like it," the woman said next. "Let's hear it for the boys!!!"

I swear I went deaf for the next forty-five seconds as the room  exploded. These women were standing on their feet, screaming like they  were at a concert. A faint smile crossed my face watching them, finding  it hard to believe they carried on like this week after week.

The music faded and the room became almost too quiet. Every now and then  a woman would whistle from the crowd. A deep rumble of bass vibrated  through my chest and goosebumps dotted my arms at the feel of it.  Another wave of excited energy flowed through the room when five tall  figures slowly stepped out on stage, expressionless beneath dark  sunglasses, holding character. It was like they were completely unaware  of the constant hooting and howling surrounding them.

Dark vests with the acronym F. B. I. printed across the front was the  only thing they wore up top, nothing covering their arms. On the bottom,  dark cargo-pants and leather, military-grade boots. I strained to see  if one of the men on stage was Marco, but the black caps they wore made  it hard to tell. The only way I knew he wasn't was because none of their  tattoos matched his. Realizing it wasn't him, I settled back in my  seat, more amused by the show Mona and her cousins were putting  on-yelling, already scrambling for dollars. Pam, knowing this was the  evening she had in mind, had two stacks of ones ready in her purse, both  bound with a paper marked $100 from the bank. Mona, Tasha, and Hayley  hurried to trade their larger bills for Pam's smaller ones.

Pam's eyes came to me and she raised one of the stacks my way, asking if  I needed change. I really had no intention to go to that stage tonight,  but, in order to not look like a ‘goodie-two-shoes', as Tasha put it, I  dug for a twenty and handed it over.         

     



 

She smiled and made change, placing it in my hand right after. I leaned up and shoved the wad inside my back pocket.

"I don't know about y'all," Hayley said with a smile, "but I'm ‘bout to go drop some cash."

Tasha laughed, rolling her eyes right after. "They're still clothed!"

Hayley shrugged. "For now, but once they drop those pants, you're gonna  have to fight to get up there. I'd rather get me a spot now," she said  in closing, leaving our group right after, parting the crowd. Tasha  deliberated for a moment and then decided to follow Hayley.

Mona turned to me with excitement in her eyes. "Wanna go?" she asked.

I tried to match her enthusiasm. "Actually, I think I'm gonna go grab  some water at the bar," I replied, using that as my excuse. But the  truth was, while I didn't have any qualms about strip clubs, I did feel  weird about watching Marco's friends-especially knowing they'd be baring  it all tonight.

All.

"Go ahead!" I assured her with a smile. "Have fun."

"I'll go with you," Pam interjected, offering to take my place beside Mona, which made me feel less guilty.

Mona didn't pick up on me having ulterior motives for not following her  and that was a good thing. I crossed the room headed toward the bar. I  grabbed an empty stool and was more comfortable with my back to the  stage, with my back to Marco's close friends.

When the bartender asked, I ordered and paid for my bottle of water,  thanking him seconds later when I had it in my hands. I took one sip  when my phone buzzed in my purse, vibrating my hip.

Marco's text read: ‘Did you run and hide or did you stick around?'

I smiled and moved my fingers across the screen. ‘Cute. I'm still here. How come you're not on stage?'

I had a few more sips in the time it took him to respond. However, ‘It's not time,' was all he said.

I put my phone away and drank slowly, in no rush to return to my seat. I  scooched over a bit when two women approached, passing one a faint  smile when she excused herself for crowding me. It wasn't a big deal,  though. It was hard to move anywhere in here without touching someone.

"I can't believe you talked me into coming back here," one of the women said, pushing long, brown hair behind her shoulder.

The other ordered two virgin daiquiris before responding to her friend,  yelling of course, because that was the only way to be heard here.

"Elena …  you're being silly," the blonde said reassuringly. "Avoiding him isn't gonna make you feel any better."

"And neither is putting myself out here like some …  lovesick dog," the  one named Elena said, emphasizing her point when she gestured with her  hands. "And …  to add insult to injury, there isn't even any alcohol  tonight."

Her friend laughed and I smiled to myself.

"Listen, just …  shoot this guy a text, let him know you're here, and  watch; I guarantee he'll be glad you came back," the blonde one said,  giving Elena a pep talk she clearly didn't want to hear.

"I haven't even heard from him since then," Elena exhaled, glancing down  at the surface of the bar when she did. She looked sad. Hurt.

"I mean, he was practically in love with you back in the day," the friend said. "Feelings like that don't just disappear."

Elena was quiet, thinking, and then she spoke again. "They do when he's expecting a kid with someone else."

The words made me pause with my bottle pressed to my lips. I didn't drink, though.

The friend shook her head. "They're not together. Isn't that what you told me?"

Disinterested in her drink, Elena didn't answer right away.

"They're not together," the friend repeated, trying to get Elena to change her feelings. "You know what? Give me your phone."

Elena didn't have a chance to fight as her cell was taken from inside  her purse and the friend tapped the screen, clearly drafting a lengthy  text.

"No. Nope," Elena replied, refusing to let her friend send the message.  "If he sees me on his own, that's one thing, but I'm not about to text  him. It's bad enough I showed up at all. Now you're gonna have me  looking like some damn stalker."

When she finished speaking, the look on her friend's face made a smile  break free on Elena's. While they chatted a little more, the friend  handed the phone back to Elena with the unsent message still showing. I  couldn't fight the pull to look there, at her screen, hoping it was all  just some huge coincidence that she was here to see a dancer who  fathered a child with someone he wasn't in a relationship with. It was a  stretch, but I held to that hope right up until the name Marco glowed  at the top of her screen.         

     



 

"Stop thinking it's over," the friend encouraged. "You never know what could happen."



"You okay?" Mona asked, nudging me lightly with her elbow. She and the  others had eventually come back from the stage to their seats.

I realized I hadn't said much in the last hour and forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah. Everything's fine," I lied.

Truthfully, I felt incredibly …  off. Vulnerable. Marco hadn't lied, so it  wasn't that. In fact, hearing Elena's reiteration of what happened that  night lined up exactly with the details he'd given me. It was just the  combination of seeing her face-to-face, being here, hearing Marco's name  in passing as club regulars anticipated his performance. It felt like …   like he was unattainable, like too much of him belonged to everyone  else. Someone wanted by so many women, someone being fed all this  attention …  could they ever truly be satisfied settling down or was this  lifestyle an addiction? Something he'd always need?