Private Dancer

Private Dancer Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Berlin

"So how about you guys are going viral?"

"What?"

I'm nervous as I grab my phone away from D as we're on the way home. We haven't spoken. Roxana left us at the club so it was up to D to get Emory and me back to the crib. As I look at the phone sure enough I see that D has uploaded the video to his popular Youtube page. The views are climbing in real time.

"You don't look happy."

"Of course I'm not happy," I state, "That club is supposed to be private D. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I was trying to get my friend famous," D responds seemingly getting more offended by the moment, "What the hell is your problem? You acting like I did something wrong. Isn't that what you wanted?"

What I wanted?

I look at the backseat and see Emory. He hasn't said a single word since the whole private dance between the two of us. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder what came over him when he kissed me. Had he just got caught up in the moment? Was it a part of the show? All I knew was that we were on our way back to the house and I didn't know how this was going to turn out.

What the hell was Roxana thinking.

"I'm sorry," I tell D, "It's not your fault."

We were strippers. This was our job. He thought he was just helping.

"Listen. You two are going to blow up. This is the business we're in. We sell a fantasy. That's what we do."

It feels better hearing D say that. That's exactly what I need to hear. I nod and smile. It's perfect timing really because we are pulling up at the house at this moment.

I get out first. Emory gets out next.

It's awkward when we get in the house. Roxana is in the kitchen. Emory looks over at me and I look over at him. Almost as though he's thinking what I'm thinking he leans over.

"Should I go talk to her?" he asks me.

"That's your wife, isn't it?" I ask.

"I know who she is..."

"Do you?"

"What's your problem?" he asks me.

"Keep your voice down," I quickly remind him.

My sister most likely has heard us come in the house. The last thing I want to do is have my pregnant sister worrying about the odd behavior of her husband. I didn't want that stress on her in anyway possible.

"What's your problem?" he asks me.

"You kissed me."

"Like D said---we're selling a fantasy."

"You never kissed me before," I tell him, "Fantasy or not. When the hell did you get comfortable enough to kiss a guy?"

He looks confused, "When I talked to Roxana she mentioned that we were close, real close. She joked about us acting a little too close. And you're always---I don't know, touching me or what not. So I guess...I don't know...I got kind of confused."

He's nervous. I can tell he is.

"Confused bout what?"

"Why you're acting like the kiss is a big deal."

"Because you're straight."

"I'm working at a gay club. Besides..don't act like you didn't like it."

My mouth drops.

"What?"

He squints at me. His eyes have always been like marble. Some sort of distant marble from a distant land and for some reason there is a tension between us that was never there before. What the fuck was this feeling that was holding us still like that.

"Did you like the kiss?" he asks me.

"What kind of fucking question is that? Yo---you're my bro."

"I'm not your brother," he states.

This was coming from Emory. Emory who went everywhere telling everyone that we were brothers as though we were related.

"You're straight. You're married. Why does it matter?"

"You're right. It doesn't matter. I'm just confused on why you don't answer the damn question if it doesn't matter. Are you attracted to me?" he asks.

Pause. What the----

Where the hell was this coming from? What's even worse than Emory asking me this question is the fact that I'm pausing to answer it. The longer I pause the more awkward it becomes. Emory is searching my face in those awkward moments looking for some sort of explanation to what the fuck was going on between us and I wasn't able to give it to him.

"What kind of question is that?" is my response.

Really? Barry. Beat around the bush.

I sound stupid and he doesn't let me get away with it.

"You going to answer my question with a question?" he asks me.

He's calling me out.

"You're asking me if I'm attracted to you?" I ask.

"Yeah. Simple question. What's with all the touching? What's with the long stares?"

He takes a step closer to me. I take a step away. I feel so uncomfortable with this line of questioning. It's as though all the things that I've gotten away with hiding from Emory, my brother-in-law for this long couldn't be hidden anymore. It was as though he was picking up on a bunch of things that he used to miss. And here I was completely

"I'm not acting any different than I ever have..."

"Well maybe now I'm noticing things that I didn't notice before," he asks, "So what it going to be? You going to answer the question or not."

"No."

"No?"

"No I didn't like it."

He glares at me for a minute. For a second, I think he is going to challenge it. I'm pretty sure he is. There is just this look in his eyes. The look of someone who is going to argue and already I'm confused on why this matters so much to him. For some reason though he seems to think about it himself. And he decides not to challenge my answer.

He just nods, "I'm sorry. I got carried away trying to put on a show. You're my brother. Right. Brothers don't kiss. Right?"

I'm surprised when there is a hand over my head. He's pressed up against the wall. He looks at me. He doesn't need to challenge me with words. He's challenging me with actions and goddam it I'm trying my hardest not to pussy out of this moment. I'm trying my hardest not to fold. Folding in a moment like this wouldn't be good.

"Are you being a smart ass?" I ask.

"No, I'm serious. We're brothers. No more kissing."

He moves his intimidating arm from off the wall and takes a step back. For a moment it was as though he could read me like a book. He could see that I'm attracted to him. For so long I literally went around feeling like I could do anything with Emory without him ever catching on to my attraction but that was all out the window. I was showing all my cards and he was reading them.

He was playing a game.

And I didn't know if I could win this.

"No need to explain this to me," I state, "How about telling my sister about this?"

He crosses his arms. I watch him take a deep breath.

"You want me to explain to her that there won't be any more kissing between the two of us?" he asks me.

"Exactly."

"Jesus..."

"It's your wife. It's my sister. She is probably in there crying her eyes out right now thinking something is going on between us."

"Like consistent flirting----"

"I haven't been flirting with you."

"Sure," he states, "We're brothers. I get it. We need to assure her that you don't have some hidden crush on me and find any reason in the world to touch me. We also need to assure her that neither of us were turned on during that kiss. That's what you want me to go assure her right?"

Uh...?

"Yeah," I sigh, "I suppose."

He shrugs, "Cool."

The look in his face tells a story of a man who clearly isn't interested in appeasing his wife. When he walks into the kitchen I notice that my sister has been cleaning up. The kitchen is a spectacle really.

"Hey!" she states with a smile.

She is quick to smile and turn away. It's awkward, real awkward. The dynamic in this house is completely off. First there is him. It's as though he doesn't even know his own wife. He's getting weirder and weirder by the day and I can't put my finger on it, but no---I don't trust this. But then there is her. She is smiling cleaning up pretending like nothing is happening.

"Barry thinks----I mean---we both think," he cuts himself off before continuing, "That you kind of stormed out of the R&M during our routine. We want to make sure you're OK."

She turns, "Oh I'm fine."

"Awesome good night," Emory states.

Emory starts walking away. I grab his arm and stop him before he gets too far. He looks irritated when I do until my eyes widen him. This wasn't what we agreed to.

Emory continues, "Are you sure?"

Roxana isn't looking back over at him. I look at her. I notice how she keeps scrubbing the same dish over and over. It's clean. It's been clean since we walk in the room. She's doing this so she doesn't have to turn back around towards us. I wonder why.

"Positive," is her only response through the silence.

"I should head to bed then," he states.

I know this is awkward for him. He wants to get out of the room. He wants to leave ASAP. I can see it written all over his face. This was awkward for Emory. He'd rather be anywhere else but here right now.

"Goodnight," she states.

"Goodnight," he responds.

Emory isn't talking to Roxana. He leans over towards me and presses his hands up against my arm. He flashes me a smile. It's a small thing but it has a little bit of intensity to it. It's enough to make my stomach grind a little bit. This feeling of intimacy with just a simple touch. I try to ignore it. I try to push it out of my head. I don't even say goodnight back to him.

And I know he realizes it because he turns and leaves the room.

When he leaves I see Roxana finally facing back into the room. She's facing me completely now. The look I'm getting from her says it all. She's upset. She's showing just how upset she is. She's showing everything that she wasn't willing to show Emory just a few seconds ago.

"I'm glad Emory came in here and explained him kissing me like that," I laugh, "He had to have been high or something. Man...those strippers at the R&M do a ton of drugs."

It's not a joke but I expect her to laugh just so this isn't weird. She doesn't. She continues to stare at me and she says, "He wasn't high."

"Oh yeah. You're probably right."

"I'm definitely right."

Why was she staring at me so hard? Why was she staring a bullet through my fucking head in this moment. I sigh a little bit realizing how awkward and bad this si.

"Well again----I'm glad he explained it because there is no funny business going on," I assure her.

"Of course there isn't," Roxana states out of no where, "Even if you wanted there to be."

I'm confused when Roxana says that. She looks over at me when she says it. Where she couldn't look at her husband she definitely seems able to stare directly at me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"You think I'm an idiot?" she asks.

"What?"

"You getting him into a gay club. You flirting with him all the time."

"Flirting?"

"You think I don't notice."

"Ok---I'll admit in the past I've done some light flirting with Emory. But who doesn't flirt with Emory. LOOK at him. You never cared before."

Clearly things have changed. Insecurity was written all over her face but she had taken red shades of anger and painted over it. I can see the anger in just a look. It's a look that says a million things. A million shades of red. And I can't face it. Not in moments like this.

She walks up to me.

"You're in love with him," she states.

"Roxana don't be ridiculous."

"Deny it----" she states.

"That kiss wasn't me. That was him. I would never cross that line. You know that I didn't want that kiss. Why the hell are you coming at me like this? You didn't come at HIM like this. He was the one who fucking kissed ME!"

Was I in the twilight zone? The only thing worse than Emory acting weird is that my sister was blaming all of his new behavior on me as though I was the one who manipulated him.

"I brought him here---because of you. He went to that party YOU made him go to. And now he's changing because of you----"

"Roxana. I love you, OK, but you got pregnancy brain. Think about this. Even if I was attracted to your husband I've never acted on it. You know that. I think the hormones are just getting to you."

She stops.

"You're right."

I feel a bit of relief in that moment. I even reach forward to give her a bit of a hug, "Thanks Roxana. I don't want to make this weird for all of us."

"My hormones have been acting up. And I think maybe us all living in the same place isn't working like it used to."

What the----

"What are you saying Roxana?"

"I'm saying that you need to be out of here by the end of the week."

This was happening. After all this time of living together...my sister was the really kicking me out over something that I couldn't control. It was something that I had nothing to do with.

~

Lux

"Hey..."

"I'm glad you could meet me."

Nasim. I didn't know what I was thinking. It was the middle of the night and here I was meeting him in the back of a restaurant. There were places in Las Vegas like this. Places where you went if you wanted to be discreet and you wanted to be private. These places were dangerous. For the right amount of money you could get away with murder and have your waiter wipe away the blood.

These were the kind of places that I told myself I'd stay away from.

"Thanks. You----look---nice----"

My words come off as a stutter. I'm telling the truth though. Nasim looked nice. He looked like a prince really. He has on a plain black shirt and some expensive looking jeans. He has his hair wrapped up in a scarf. When I sit down he's looking up and down at me. He was exactly what I thought he'd be. Seeing him again just drives me up a wall.

"You're high," he calls me out.

"You can tell?"

Hitter had just given me some stuff before I came over here.

"PCP..." he points out.

"How'd you know?"

"You're pupils dilated. You keep scratching like there is something under your skin. You look like you want to take your clothes off and not in the stripper way. That's what my brother takes. Said takes that when he has his violent spells. That was what he took that night he hurt the white stripper," he explains.

"I didn't know that..."

"It's a habit. A bad drug habit Uncle Said has," Nasim states, "You shouldn't take it. You know that? You're too perfect to be high with something like that. I've heard of people killing family members on it..."

He sounds like a parent at that moment. Sure he was a daddy I'd love to fuck, again but he still sounded like a dad regardless. I'm already high. Every time I think about that night I want to get high again. Him having this conversation with me isn't helping

"I was...just nervous."

"Meeting me?" he asks me, "I should be the nervous one. You've been ignoring me ever since that night we spent together."

"Seeing Emory that night," I state.

He sighs a little bit but leans forward, "So you take drugs because of it?"

I am shaking back and forth. I wonder if I look a mess. He seems turned off. Maybe I've completely turned him off with the drugs, or maybe I've turned him off because I ignored his calls or maybe I turned him off because I had a very specific reason for being here today and it had nothing to do with showing how attracted I was to him. He studies me his eyes folding onto me over and over as though to take me in.

It makes me even more nervous.

"I'm not used to that kind of shit Nasim," I try to explain to him, "I do a little drugs. I dance. I have a little sex. That's it. The violence...I don't understand. When were you going to tell me that he didn't die?"

"You know he's not dead?" Nasim asks, "How is that possible?"

That's when I take my phone out and put it down. He grabs it. A video is playing. It's the video of Berlin and Emory dancing together on stage at the Rum and Monkey.

"Impossible."

"It's very possible," I tell Nasim, "He's dancing at the Rum and Monkey."

"That's not him."

"How are you sure about that?" I state, "Clearly you didn't finish him off. Clearly he was still alive when we all thought he was dead."

"You're right about one thig. He's not dead. He's alive," Nasim explains, "But my Uncle Said has him."