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She laughed harder at my response before pulling herself together. “Okay, okay. So you just decided to ditch art and become a celibate priest? There was nothing that prompted it?”
No. There had been a prompt. One so powerful it had sent me straight to the church’s door in the pouring rain, begging for forgiveness. I forced the memories of that night away, pushing them back into the dark, twisted depths of my soul where I’d fought to keep them locked for the longest time.
I was safe within the walls of the church. Safe behind vows of poverty and celibacy.
What I was doing here with Lyric wasn’t safe at all.
It was dancing a line of danger, playing with a fire that was going to burn us both.
And yet she was so much like Annie I couldn’t stop.
I didn’t want to play her game anymore. She was edging too close to the truth. Stoking the embers until they’d erupt into flames. “Why did you become a stripper?”
The words came out harsher than I’d intended. Deflecting from her questions about me. Heat burned the back of my neck, both in embarrassment and irritation with myself for letting her get so close.
She heard it. The change in my tone.
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t need your judgment.”
Her sharp words were a reminder it was me in the wrong here. Me who’d let her in only to slam down the doors when she got too close to the truth. It wasn’t her. I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated and angry with myself. “I’m the last person to judge you. We’re all sinners.”
That clearly wasn’t the right thing to say either.
She bristled visibly, putting the cleaning liquid down with a jolt. “I’m not hurting anyone. I take my clothes off for men, and I dance. That’s it. I’m hardly out on the street shooting drugs into the arms of prostitutes and pimping them out for money.” She glared at me with fire in her gaze. “I’m not lying or cheating or stealing or murdering.”
I wished I could say the same.
6
LYRIC
Mondays and Tuesdays were my normal nights off from the club. But Tuesdays were family night, and Eve put on a big meal for anyone she deemed special. She’d cook her ass off for hours before, and I always felt like an asshole if I didn’t show. Plus, it was important for Amelia to be surrounded by so many adults who loved her. If Gran was having a good day, it got her out of the apartment too. Sometimes Eve would sing with her band, and you never knew who would turn up, so it was always interesting.
It meant Mondays were really the only night I had at home with Amelia and Gran. But I didn’t even really have that anymore since I now had to go clean at the church. At least it was only for an hour or two, and Zeph was flexible on what time I got there each day, as long as the work got done.
I was in a good mood when I got a text from Zeph, asking me to meet him at the store that evening instead of at the church. So I sent him back a thumbs-up emoji without really thinking about it while I picked Amelia up from daycare. I glanced over in the direction of Zeph’s house on the church grounds, but his car was missing from the driveway, so he probably wasn’t home.
Amelia sprinted across the daycare to throw herself at my legs, her happy little face beaming up at me. “Hi, Mommy. What’s for dinner?”
I hadn’t even thought about that yet, though the question did make me cringe internally because I knew there wasn’t much in the refrigerator, and I’d made chump change all last week at the club. I was hanging out for my church payment to come in, which Zeph had said would happen at the end of the month.
I’d forgotten how much it sucked to have to wait for a paycheck. I’d spent years picking up mine off the club stage or plucking it from my G-string.
I patted Amelia’s sweet head. “I don’t know, Slugger. I’ll work something out.”
Amelia’s teacher, a short-haired, middle-aged woman who had a penchant for pearls and wore them daily, smiled at me. “I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious and full of healthy vegetables that Amelia will just gobble up.”
Amelia crinkled her nose.
I fought the urge to do the same. “Thanks for today. See you tomorrow.”
“Oh, wait, Lyric.” The woman grabbed my arm.
I stopped, waiting for her to explain.
She dropped her hand from my biceps and picked up a leaf of paper, handing it over to me with her wide teacher smile firmly in place. “I wanted to give you this. It’s information about our dress-up day on Friday.”
Amelia jumped up and down, babbling in excitement and twisting my arm to try to look at the paper while I tried to do the same. “Wait a second, kid. I gotta read it first.” I skimmed over the paper, irritation prickling at me with every line. I wanted to groan. “She needs a costume that represents her emotions?” I was sure my forehead was so furrowed with lines I’d need a shot of Botox. “What exactly does that mean?”
