“Failed love life.”
“—is actually much more entertaining.”
He laughed. “I’m so glad my failures are your happiness.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know. I love you, Mars.”
“Love you, too.” She grinned at him, then sobered. “You know you can talk to me anytime, right?”
He threw away her empty coffee cup and wiped the condensation ring on the bar. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
She left shortly after that, after making him promise to check in with her. He said he would. He hated being vulnerable, with all these emotions and feelings so damn close to the surface.
Time would heal all, right? He just needed time.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his email. Because even though Owen’s emails were a kick in the gut with no warmth, it was still something. He still felt like it forced Owen to acknowledge he existed.
No new emails. He had gotten an email last week about a scholarship available to students like him—older and part-time. He hadn’t filled out the application yet because that felt like a big step.
He wasn’t going to kid himself—the money aspect of going back to school freaked him out. But to get a better job, he needed the degree.
He wanted to do this for himself. Not for Owen. Not to be good enough for Owen or to make Owen want him. He wanted to be the kind of guy Owen could want.
And to do that, he had to be proud of himself. Going to school to learn more about doing what he loved? Yeah, that would make him damn proud.
Maybe he could talk to his boss about more job opportunities. He knew he also owned some other businesses, so maybe he had other work for Chad. He wasn’t putting off school. No, he was being smart, right? Giving himself a bigger cushion?
That’s what he was telling himself.
Later that afternoon, before the bar opened, Chad spotted his boss, Braxton, chatting with Ace. “Hey, B,” Chad said as he removed his shirt and fixed his cuffs. “Can I talk to you about something?”
Braxton turned from his conversation with Ace and leaned back against the bar, arms crossed. “Shoot.”
Chad shifted his gaze to Ace, who stood within hearing distance, prepping the bar. “Uh, maybe in your office?”
“What, you need privacy? Come to tell me you’re pregnant? Spit it out, Lake.”
Chad growled under his breath. “So, I’m looking to make some extra money. Is there anything else you could give me?”
Braxton stared at him, past the point of comfort, his eyes roaming Chad’s groin area and bare chest. Brax glanced at Ace, who nodded back at him. Chad had no idea what was going on. Braxton stepped forward and tugged a card out of his pocket. The card said The Peach Pit in pink. Chad frowned. “What’s this?”
Braxton pointed at the card. “Talk to Ace. Think about it. If you’re interested, come on by next weekend.”
With another glance at Ace then Chad, Braxton headed down the hallway to his office. Chad flicked the business card in his fingers and then shoved it into his pocket. “So what was this all about?” he asked Ace. “I’m not so hard up that I want to do anything illegal.”
His coworker laughed. “It’s not illegal.”
“Okay, so what is it?”
“The Peach Pit is an exclusive, invite-only club.”
An invite-only club in Willow Park and he’d never been there? That was a travesty. “And what do you do at this club?”
“You dance.”
Chad cocked his head. “I dance?”
Ace grinned. “Yeah, in your underwear.”
Chad held up his hands. “Wait, like a strip club?”
Ace shrugged. “No nudity. It’s more like entertainment.”
“Um…”
“I’ve seen you dance. You can move. You’d make good money at the Pit.”
“So you work there?”
“Yeah. Normally it’s chicks dancing, but one weekend a month, it’s ladies’ night, and that’s when we shine. I’m saving up for a down payment on a house.” Ace glanced at the clock. “Doors are going to open here soon. Just think about it and let me know. No rush and no pressure.”
He chewed on it all night. On the outside, he was the same jovial bartender the customers expected, but inside, his stomach was rolling and his head was spinning.
The whole reason he wanted more money was so he could do something respectable with his life. Maybe a year ago, he would have jumped at the chance to dance on stage. But now he wasn’t so sure it was something he wanted to do at all. Once he danced on stage and stripped for an audience, he couldn’t undo it. It’d always be there, a part of his past. Not that he wanted to impress future partners, but he’d always know. He’d always know he’d done it.