Abby looked at him sympathetically.
“Have you thought any more about dating?” she asked. John just shook his head.
“I haven’t met anyone who compares to Melissa. She’s getting remarried.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I saw that guy up in front pull your hair and spit on you. If I was a badass instead of a college professor, I would’ve done something about it.”
“It goes with the job,” she said, shrugging.
“You deserve something nicer than this place.”
“I thought I had something,” she replied softly.
“I’d buy you a drink, but I know you can’t have one.”
“No. I’d better get back to work. You sure on the dance? No charge.”
“Thanks, but just talking to you was good. I hadn’t talked to anyone since this morning.”
“See you next time,” she said as she left the table.
She passed a table where a customer was openly dry humping Sam in an effort to make the most of his lap dance. Abby sighed. Nothing ever changed at Mickey’s. She had always thought that was what she liked about the job – that it was predictable. But lately she was just aggravated by it.
She found her phone backstage and her heart picked up speed when she saw a message from Chris. He hadn’t called or texted after he’d left her house last night, and she wondered if he was still angry. He had every right to be.
Call me.
She stared at the message, wanting to call, but knowing it was a bad idea. It was becoming clear how different the two of them were. Abby knew Chris was somehow responsible for the restless, uneasy feeling she had at the club lately. Before she’d met him, she’d never considered having anything different. Anything better. And she knew that was a dangerous thing for her to want.
Chris was contemplative as he ate the pastrami on rye sandwich that had become his favorite at Dalton’s. Charlotte picked at a sandwich across from him, waiting patiently.
“Why does it surprise me that she doesn’t trust me?” Chris repeated Charlotte’s last question to him. “Because I’m trustworthy.”
“But how can she know that for sure at this point?”
“I’ve done nothing to give her any doubt.”
“Chris, after what happened to her, it makes complete sense that she has trouble trusting men. She’s trusted you with a lot already. Being sexually open to you, letting you find out what happened to her – those things are a big deal. She is her sisters’ protector. You should admire her for that.”
“I do,” he said. “It’s just hard, trying to be there for her, really there, in the ways that matter, and getting rebuffed.”
“It takes time. Don’t be so impatient.”
“Hey,” Reed said, sliding into the booth next to Charlotte. “Have you figured him out yet?”
“Still working on it,” Charlotte said with a smile.
“You look like shit, man,” Reed said to Chris.
“I feel like shit. This is where I have lunch with Abby.”
“It’s funny to see you stressing over a woman,” Reed said. “I don’t think it’s ever happened.”
“There’s nothing funny about this. It fucking sucks,” Chris said, glaring at him.
“Just smooth things over and apologize to her,” Charlotte said. “You’ll feel better.”
“Why do I have to be the one to apologize every time?”
“Just do it, man. Life’s so much easier when you do,” Reed said.
Abby had just parked her car in the lot of Mickey’s when her phone rang from inside her purse. When she pulled it out and saw that it was Chris, she willed herself not to answer it. Things between them would never end well, so it was best that they stayed apart. She closed her eyes, pushing the button to answer the call in a moment of weakness.
“Hi,” she said briskly.
“Hi. I’m sorry I got mad at you. Again.”
Abby fought the tug she felt toward him, reminding herself that they would always be too different for a relationship to work.
“Things with us happened so quickly,” she said. “I think we both just got wrapped up in something we shouldn’t have.”
“Do you mean that? You wish we’d never gotten involved?”
“No. But I’m never going to be anything more than I am, Chris. I’m a cynical, defensive stripper with several people to take care of.”
“Can you come see me here when you get off work?”
“No, you’ll just charm me with your massages and sweet talk.”
“Is that so bad?”
“I check my willpower at the door when we go into that sleeping room, and I don’t want to do that.”