“I still owe them fifty-five thousand. I was going to make another payment today, but…” A heavy sob catches me off guard. I look at her and see the tears streaming down her face.
We’ve arrived close to her apartment, so I pull to the curb. Turning toward her, I reach over and wipe the wet trail away. “But?”
“I went online to make the payment, and my account was empty. It was everything I’d made in the last month, including the money from the club. In three days, I made more than I do in a month, and it’s gone. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t get any alerts, but every penny is gone. I’m running out of time, Jagger. Even working at the club, I won’t make the deadline.” She sniffs, looking out the window again, then sits up straight. Gloved fingers wipe away her tears with furious determination. “I shouldn’t have told you that. Any of it. It’s not your problem, and I don’t want you trying to play the hero. I swear that’s not why I told you. I don’t know why I did.”
“What makes you think I would do that? Does this look like hero hair to you?” I wish the joke had the intended effect, but she barely reacts. “Seriously, I’m nobody’s hero, Poppy. Don’t expect that of me, but I’ll help however I can.”
“I appreciate it, Jagger. I really do. My pride vanished months ago. But we barely know each other, so I want you to understand I’d never take advantage of you like that.”
“Let me ask you, have you considered selling it? It’s worth a small fortune, you know.”
“I know.” She nods. “But it’s not just up to me.”
“Ah,” I say, understanding she means Renee.
“Okay, then. Let me worry about what I can and can’t do. I’d rather see if there’s anything I can do at all than make promises I can’t keep. Now, go do what you need to do for the club, so I can get you to work.”
She nods and climbs out of the car. The dialed number I’ve pulled up is ringing before she gets to her door.
Poppy
The club door slams behind me, and cold air bites my skin. I drag in a breath, sharp and metallic.
What does it say about the air inside that Manhattan smog tastes clean?
My aching feet beg me to take a cab or the subway, but cab fare is more out of the question than usual thanks to whoever stole the money from my account. I don’t understand how someone could just clean out my account like that. It makes no sense at all, and the bank had no answers. They only offered to check into it deeper tomorrow.
And the subway…it’s only a mile to my apartment. It takes the same amount of time to walk as it does to ride the train, but I won’t fall asleep walking.
It’s warmer tonight. It’s still far too cold for my liking, but at least I can feel my toes in my knock-off Uggs.
Shoving my icy fingers into my pockets, I turn right toward Broadway and huff, preparing myself for the walk. My mind is in a hazy fog from sleep deprivation. Exhaustion wracks my body from nonstop moving. Whoever thought being twenty-two meant we’re made for long hours and endless physical work is out of their mind. I don’t feel twenty-two right now. I’m almost certain my body has aged fifty years in a few days.
Even my brain, which is usually going through my budget, trying to figure out where the night’s earnings leave me, is exhausted and blank.
Well, almost.
Jade green eyes punch their way through the numbness. He shocked me today, and I’m at a point where I didn’t think I could still be shocked. It wasn’t the waiting for me outside the rehearsal studio. While I didn’t expect him, it seems on par with his personality to swing by if he’s close, especially if he’s trying to get into that person’s pants. No matter what I said, or even if he agreed, Jagger’s intentions, even if not conscious, are obvious.
Offering to drive me home and to the club is his thing. Nearly every encounter we’ve had ends with him volunteering his services.
I wasn’t even surprised that he offered to help me. Well…maybe a little. He didn’t offer to solve my problem. He offered to figure it out. But don’t heroes fix everything?
And that is your damn problem, Poppy. He’s not your fucking hero.
He’s not anyone’s hero. He said so himself.
But damn, I think I might need a hero.
No, it was none of that. What shocked and confused me was the emotions I felt when he dropped me off at the club. I was sad he didn’t stay. Then I began picturing him going to the upper level of the club or some other place to pick up a girl for the night.
And the green poison that ran through my veins at the thought of him with someone else? Yeah, that threatened to knock me over. It was the same volatile feeling that I choked down this morning when he stumbled out of those girls’ apartment. I’ve never been jealous a day in my life. Not of another girl over a guy, anyway. And I have no right now. Even if we had hooked up, he would still be free to be with whomever he wanted. It’s the rule of one-night stands and hookups. No commitments, no expectations.
And no jealousy or possessiveness.
Exhaustion and exasperation breathe past my lips as I shake my head. I make it to the corner of the building when a deep, raspy voice calls out. “Need a ride?”
An annoyed scoff whispers from my lips as I shake my head, unsurprised to hear the broody bad boy’s voice coming from the shadows, but curiosity makes me ask, “What are you doing here?”
