Clipped Wings

5

HAYDEN

Early on Tuesday afternoon, Tenley—who still hadn’t stopped by since we hung out in the basement of Serendipity—left her apartment. The entrance to the apartments above was at the rear of the store. There was a narrow alleyway between Serendipity and the adjacent low-rise apartment building giving her access to the storefront. I liked it, because it allowed me to see when she was coming or going. Not that I was watching for her or anything.

Instead of going into Serendipity, she turned in the opposite direction and headed down the sidewalk. She was wearing a dress that hugged her curves but still managed to be conservative. On the plus side, it ended midthigh. She had great legs, the kind I wanted wrapped around my waist, or my head, whichever. I wasn’t picky.

After my dreams last night there was relief in seeing she was okay. My subconscious alternated between lurid fantasy and horrifying nightmares, which had been dominating my sleeping hours as of late.

I couldn’t get the images out of my head. The bad dreams weren’t unusual; there were past mistakes I couldn’t undo. The part that was messing with me the most was Tenley’s arrival in my subconscious and the way I managed to insert her into the clusterfuck of a nightmare. Usually they revolved around the same theme—death. In this dream, though, the loser from the bar hadn’t let her go. He’d pulled a gun and aimed it at her chest. I couldn’t get through the crowd to help her. I woke up before he pulled the trigger, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

That she had been in any kind of danger, imagined or not, left me unsettled and raw. Awake or asleep, I didn’t like the loss of control.

“Have you heard a thing I said?” Chris stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the empty sidewalk.

“What?” I asked testily.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been all over the board this week.”

“What are you talking about?” I leaned back in the chair and laced my fingers behind my head, feigning nonchalance. His rare moment of perceptiveness stunned me. I hadn’t realized I was so damn obvious.

“If you were a chick I’d say you have PMS. Since you’re not, I’m saying you need to get laid instead, which brings me back to the original one-sided conversation I was having while you so rudely ignored me. I’m going to the peelers tonight, you should come.”

That meant The Dollhouse. Sometimes I believed the only reason Chris asked me to come was for company in his pit of moral decay. As if my being there somehow made what he did okay. Just because I tolerated his actions didn’t mean I condoned them. Not anymore.

“Seriously? Why there?”

“You need to ask?”

“I don’t know.” I wasn’t eager for a trip down memory lane, and there was a good chance I’d run into Sienna. I had successfully avoided her for the past year. I was inclined to keep it that way.

“Come on, there’s this new waitress I’m digging. I think I’m starting to wear her down.” He flashed a grin.

I could only imagine what his version of wearing her down would consist of, but the distraction in the form of visual stimulation might prove helpful. “I’ll think about it.”

I swiveled in my chair, turning back to my station to prepare for my next client. Tenley was gone anyway, and I doubted she’d stop by tonight. I shouldn’t have kissed her on the cheek. It was too fucking forward, which was laughable, considering the alternative scenarios I’d been entertaining.

It was just before closing, and I was inking an American flag on some guy’s ass. Most ass tattoos took place in one of the private rooms because the general public preferred not to show off their parts in a busy studio. But the guy in my chair flat out refused. Maybe he had a thing for exhibitionism, because he insisted on baring it all front and center in the shop.

The only benefit to the awkward situation was the chance to keep an eye out for Tenley. It was late by the time she came home. She looked in the direction of the shop and her steps faltered, like maybe she was thinking about coming in. She didn’t, though. Instead she continued down the narrow alley leading to the back of Serendipity. A minute later, lights came on in her apartment. It was the last I saw of her that evening, but that didn’t stop my mind from wandering in her direction.

Against my better judgment, I accompanied Chris to The Dollhouse. By the time we got there I wished I’d downed a few shots of tequila to help make the evening bearable. But that would have meant relying on Chris to get home. I wanted to be able to make my own escape if necessary. Our waitress was a girl named Sarah, who had pale blond hair. Chris had chosen the table specifically because she was working the section. Given the fact that she was his most recent conquest target, I felt bad for her. Chris could be persistent.

From what Chris said, she hadn’t been working there long. Staff turnover at such establishments tended to be high thanks to people like Sienna, who treated her employees like commodities rather than human beings. Everything could be sold for the right price, especially dignity. Sarah seemed unaffected by Chris’s charm, which meant his reputation probably preceded him. Rather than titter like an idiot over his compliments, she ignored them and told him off when he asked for her number. I liked her.

It took him all of five minutes to get over the rejection. Chris stuck a five-dollar bill in a dancer’s thong. She shook her ass in his face. I sighed and checked the time.

“You need to relax, you’re too uptight,” Chris said, exasperated with my attitude.

“I’m always uptight.” I took a long draft of the overpriced, crappy beer and surveyed the club. No Sienna. Thank fuck. I’d been on the fence about coming in until we’d pulled into the lot to find her car wasn’t there. If I was lucky, I’d get in a couple of beers and leave without running into her at all.

Chris left me alone for a few minutes while the dancer rubbed herself on the pole. I imagined it would require a heavy-duty sanitizing by the end of the night. Once her set was over, Chris started up again, seeking a way to rectify my pissy mood.

“What about that one?” He pointed to a nondescript girl making her rounds with a tray of shooters.

I barely glanced in her direction. Unlike our waitress, she was artificially blond. “Not my type.” Not that naturally blond was any more my style.

“Since when do you have a type? Seriously man, you should unwind.”

Thanks to Chris’s irritating insistence that I needed some sort of action tonight, he ended up paying some poor girl who smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap perfume to give me a lap dance. But instead of feeling aroused, a heavier emotion settled into my gut. It felt something like guilt, maybe? Halfway through the song, I couldn’t take it anymore. I ushered her over to Chris, where she resumed dancing. Chris looked annoyed, which inflated my mood. We politely declined when she offered additional services, compliments of management.

Shit. Our presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. Across the room I spotted Sienna sitting at the side of the bar closest to her personal security guard, chatting with a suited-up businessman. Looked like she wasn’t taking the night off after all. She flipped her bleached-out hair over her shoulder and tipped her drink in my direction. I looked away, uninterested in whatever game she wanted to play, when Damen pulled up a chair beside Chris. I wasn’t surprised to see his ugly face. If he wasn’t working at his tattoo studio, Art Addicts, he was here, pushing other addictions. At least he knew better than to sit beside me. He and Chris engaged in some stupid-ass handshake-shoulder-bumping garbage like they were best buddies.

It bothered me the way Chris always sought Damen’s approval, like he was some messed-up version of a father figure. I supposed that in a lot of ways Damen assumed that role for Chris when we worked for him years ago. From what I understood, he took Chris in when his parents would no longer deal with his antics. Damen’s accommodations had turned out to be more of a den of iniquity, but Chris hadn’t been in much of a position to complain. Not that he had. Chris hadn’t seen his own family in years, and Damen was a master at exploiting insecurities. When it had come to Chris, he’d heaped on the praise, knowing how little it took to gain Chris’s loyalty and lead him astray. Chris was a talented artist, but sometimes he lacked common sense, and that got him into trouble.

Even back when I was a kid, barely eighteen and working my first job at Art Addicts as a piercer, I never fell for Damen’s bullshit. Sure, I took advantage of the drugs and the access to women, but that was where it ended. I hadn’t needed his approval. Which was why, after three years of dealing with him and all the crap that had come with him, I’d gotten out. I hadn’t done it on my own, though; Jamie had been the driving force, and Chris had come along for the ride. If I hadn’t escaped the drugs, I would have OD’d at some point.

Damen reclined in his chair, looking like he owned the place. His black hair was slicked back, his receding hairline pronounced. His aquiline nose and vicious smile made him look like the vulture he was.

“Hayden, it’s good to see you. I was telling Chris the last time he was here he should bring you by. You here for the women, or are you looking to do business?”

“Chris is here for the women. I’m here to ruin his night.” I swished my beer around in my glass.

Damen had been hounding Chris about merging studios for a long time. I adamantly refused the offer. Damen had a hard time keeping artists at his shop. I’d witnessed the slow decline as they got hooked on blow, or whatever else he was selling, until performing their actual job became a challenge. I’d been at risk of going down the same path at one point. I had no intention of being dragged back into his bullshit crooked dealings. I ran a clean shop, made legitimate money, and served no one’s interests but my own. Partnering up with Damen would mean bending to someone else’s whims. Chris was too caught up in keeping things amicable to say no outright, so he always pussyfooted around an answer.

“You seem a little tense. I think I’ve got exactly what you need to relax.” Damen slipped his hand inside his jacket and discreetly pulled out a small baggie. It looked like coke was the drug of choice tonight.

“I’m good with the beer.” I held up the almost-empty glass.

After offering it to Chris, who declined, Damen slid the baggie back into his pocket.

“Maybe you need a different kind of relaxation?”

Damen raised his hand in the air and a tiny brunette rushed over. The bra she wore didn’t even cover her nipples, and her skirt could have doubled as a headband, with the way her ass was hanging out the back. He beckoned her closer and said something in her ear. Her eyes moved over me, then back to him, whispering so we couldn’t hear. He laughed and slapped her ass, leaving a palm print behind as she scurried away. He was such a cocksucker.

“From what I’ve just been told, Sienna’s still interested. I’m sure she’d be more than willing to help you out,” he said.

I wanted to punch Damen’s ugly grin off his face, but I didn’t. I snorted into my glass. “Not likely.”

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter either way, and turned to Chris, done talking to me for the time being. “Candy’s back.”

“I thought she moved on.” For a brief moment Chris’s apathy was replaced with concern. He’d had a thing for Candy back in the day. It was probably the closest he’d ever been to a relationship, if one could call it that. She was a stripper who dabbled in prostitution, so clearly it wasn’t monogamous, but he’d actually cared about her, made a real connection for once. He’d ultimately walked away, though, unable to deal with the bullshit that came with dating someone who got naked for a living.

Damen’s smile was malicious. “You know how it is. They think the grass is greener on the other side. Eventually they end up back where they belong.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” I said, unable to rein in my contempt. “You know the only reason they come back is because you get them hooked on whatever smack it is you’re dealing, so they can’t function without it.”

“No one forces coke up their noses.”

“You might as well. It’s quite the little setup you and Sienna have going here, isn’t it? You’re an entrepreneurial genius.”

“Hayden, man, chill out,” Chris said, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

“It’s fine, Chris. Go ahead, Hayden, it sounds like you’ve got something on your mind.” Damen leaned in, like he was ready for some epic revelation on my part.

Too aggravated not to feed into it, I motioned to the stage. “Do you really think any of these girls like this?”

He jeered at the half-naked dancer. “It’s a job, and not a very difficult one.”

I shook my head in disgust. “You think no one sees what you do? The way you and Sienna play them? Offer the girls the easy stuff like weed or hash because it doesn’t interfere with productivity. Then when that isn’t enough to make getting naked for a bunch of horny assholes tolerable, you up the ante and get them addicted to the hard shit until they don’t have a choice but to solicit to pay for the habit.”

Damen’s expression hardened. “Like I said, no one forces the girls to do anything they don’t want to.”

“Is that what you and Sienna tell yourselves so you can sleep at night?”

Damen only provided enough product to keep the dancer sedate and in debt. Invariably tips from dancing wouldn’t cover the cost, and Sienna would suggest other ways to pay down the money they owed. And thus began the endless loop. She knew damn well the damage it did, but she condoned it, even benefited from it.

Back when I was working for Damen at Art Addicts, she was under his thumb as well. Before Sienna took over The Dollhouse, she danced there. Every so often she would leave the club and try something else, like bartending or whatever, but the money wasn’t good enough and she always came back. No matter how hard she tried to get clean, she never stayed that way.

When the club switched hands, Sienna got involved with the new owner, which was a smart move on her part. It gave her access to a lot of opportunities. There were some interesting rumors about how she ended up managing the club after he went to jail for assault and battery, but none of it really mattered. From the look of it, the move from dancer to desk job hadn’t changed how she lived. She was just as messed up now as she was when I met her.

Damen was still yammering away, talking at me again, like I cared about what he had to say. “There was a time when you took full advantage of the range of services provided here, Hayden. You could have unlimited access again if you wanted it.”

“I think I’m past the point of needing your kind of services, thanks.” I polished off the rest of my beer, ready to call it a night. I’d had about as much of Damen as I could handle.

“You’re sure about that? Looks like you’re running out of room to put your baggage, son.” He aimed a pointed glance at my arms.

I fought to keep a lid on the sudden rush of anger he inspired. I hated it when he called me “son.” No one would ever replace my father, especially not a dickhead like him.

I ignored the comment and turned to Chris. “I’m gonna split. You’ve got five minutes if you want a ride home.”

“Ah, come on H, don’t bail.”

Chris always tried to keep the peace between us. He still felt like he owed some allegiance to Damen. I sure as hell didn’t. I shoved my chair back and stood up. Our waitress was at the table before I could blink. Sienna already had her well trained.

I palmed my wallet, and Damen put up his hand. “I’ll get her for you.”

“I can pay my own way.” I pulled a hundred out and passed it to Sarah. She took the money and looked from me to Damen and back again, panic flaring in her eyes, like she thought something more was expected of her.

“That’s for the drinks. Consider the rest a tip for having to deal with those assholes.” I waved in Chris and Damen’s general direction. “I’ll be in the car. I’m gone in five.”

I stepped around a stunned-looking Sarah. It never took long for the girls to break and succumb to the harsh realities of the business they were in. Maybe Sarah would be different, but I had my doubts. Lisa was pretty messed up when Jamie got her out of The Dollhouse and brought her with us to Inked Armor. I thought he was crazy at the time, but he was in love with her even then. It took months of detox before she began to function again, as normally as was possible. People like Lisa weren’t cut out for that kind of life.

My memories of that time were spotty at best. It was probably better that way. Many of my least shining moments took place in a cloud of self-medication. Thankfully, Jamie was a good friend and a patient man. While he dealt with Lisa, I recovered from my own trip into the narcotic abyss thanks to Damen’s constant supply. Getting away from him had been paramount to my survival. I wasn’t in nearly as bad shape as Lisa, who popped every kind of pill imaginable, but I wasn’t a pleasure to hang out with during that time. Coming out of a coke coma was like shining high beams on all the things I couldn’t take back. Even though Chris still made choices I couldn’t understand, he had been and still was a loyal friend. Sometimes his version of help did more harm than good, but he always had the best intentions.

Outside the club, the cool air helped to calm the anger still burning through me. I didn’t get far before the door behind me opened, followed by the clip of high heels on the pavement.

I stopped, head dropping. Of course. My night wouldn’t be a complete wash unless I had an altercation with Sienna. Like most of my extracurricular activities back then, Sienna had started out as a one-time deal. I’d been in the middle of putting a tattoo on her, which had required multiple sessions, when my hormones had taken over. Barely twenty, I had been sucked in by the promise of sex with no boundaries. I’d stupidly indulged in several encores. That hadn’t gone well, especially since I hadn’t been the only person involved with her. Sometimes Chris didn’t check in with his brain before he used his dick. When I’d taken a hiatus from Sienna he got in on the action. More than once.

I didn’t share well, even when I wasn’t all that invested in what it was I was sharing. It was more about the betrayal than the woman, and it almost ruined our friendship. Sienna was a good example of when not to mix business and pleasure. Subsequently, she became the reason for the rule when we opened Inked Armor. Unfortunately, putting it into practice where she was concerned hadn’t been easy.

“Leaving without saying hello?” Sienna threw her arms around me.

I had the forethought to turn my head to the side just in time for her lips to collide with my neck. Her hands immediately found the bottom of my shirt and went under and up. Sharp nails scratched all the way back down. I grabbed her wrists before she went any lower.

“You were busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you.”

I let go of her and she adjusted her corset, pushing her fake tits together. She held no appeal for me anymore. She hadn’t for quite some time, but Sienna seemed to have a problem with that reality, still stuck in the past when I was a willing participant in her game of depravity. I had no intention of revisiting that mistake.

The past year had not been kind to her. Her over-dyed hair looked like straw, particularly against the mismatched extensions. There were lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Her lips were injected with so much collagen that it looked like she’d been punched in the face, which was possible, given her penchant for violent sex. She had other modifications, all of which increased her synthetic, Barbie-like appearance. The scar that ran from her chin to her ear had been worked on, but it was still visible under all the makeup. She seemed thinner than I remembered, but her size was skewed by enormous implants that made her look like a caricature.

She tugged on my arm. “Come back in. We need to catch up.”

A year ago I might have given in with a little persuading, the potential for physical escape enough of an allure. Not anymore. “Can’t. I’m on my way out.”

“Don’t be like that, honey.” She threaded her hands through my hair, pulling me closer. I stood stoically, unmoving, as she rubbed herself on me, her desperation an effective antiaphrodisiac. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time. It would be a shame if you left before I had a chance to show you how much I’ve missed you.” She palmed me through my pants. My dick knew better than to react.

“I’m not interested, Sienna.” My rejection stung her. I knew it would. It always did.

She dropped her hand and crossed her arms under her chest. The result was ridiculously comical. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Who the hell knows?” I took a step back, intent on leaving before she flew off the handle, as Sienna often did when she didn’t get what she wanted.

Her lip twisted into a sneer. “Still haven’t lost that superiority complex, have you? Get off your pedestal and take a look at yourself, honey. You’re no better than the rest of us.”

“It’s always such a pleasure to see you,” I said with derision and turned away.

“No one’s ever going to get you like I do, Hayden. But you know that, don’t you? It’s why you come back every time.”

I spun around, closing the distance in two angry strides. I leaned over her, stopping when I was only an inch from her face. The stench of cigarettes and vodka hit me, but neither eclipsed her overpowering perfume or the hint of men’s cologne clinging to her skin. I felt like a volcano ready to explode. Her eyes were alight with excitement; she’d pissed me off on purpose, thinking she’d get what she wanted. It was a strategy that used to work.

“Stop kidding yourself, you manipulative bitch. The only thing you know about me is the dimensions of my dick. All we’ve ever done is fuck. That’s it. Any feelings you think I might have for you don’t exist. They never did.”

Sienna’s smile was spiteful. “You keep saying that, like you think one of these times I’m going to believe it, but here you are. You’re just like a little lost puppy, aren’t you? Straying away from home, but always coming back when you find out nobody wants you.”

I didn’t answer, avoiding the truth in that statement. The pattern of behavior was undeniable. Just as Sienna kept coming back to The Dollhouse, so did I. Although after all this time I couldn’t explain why. Maybe I was looking for some proof that I was above this, like she said. I didn’t want anything to do with her ever again, and the current confrontation only helped solidify that stance. If I’d been honest with myself, The Dollhouse was the last place I should have been, drowning in the memories of a time when I’d been too messed up to deal with my mistakes.

“Have a nice night.” I turned and headed for my car.

“See you soon, Hayden,” she called after me, laughing.

“Let’s hope not,” I mumbled, sliding into the driver’s seat.