The Destiny of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #3)(42)

The skinny one frowns, unimpressed, and crosses his arms. “Your friend broke the rules and he’s got to pay for it.” He leans to the side to look at Luke. “No touching the dancers.” He points to a sign hanging on the wall to my right that matches what he just said.

I look over my shoulder at Luke again, fighting an eye roll. “Really? You couldn’t have just gone home and jerked off.”

He shakes his head, his brown eyes darkened by the alcohol I can smell flowing off his breath. “I couldn’t wait that long.” He has this silly, drunk, innocent look on his face that actually makes my heart miss a beat and I don’t like it.

I’m seriously debating whether or not just to let him handle this on his own, but then remember how he helped me to and from class and gave me a ride to McDonald’s. My shoulders slump as I turn around to face the skinny guy, doing the one thing that I’m good at. Bullshitting people.

“Look… he’s really sorry he broke the rules, but can’t you just let him go?” I ask with a sweet smile.

The thin guy narrows his eyes. “I was just going to kick him out but then he f*cking sucker punched me in the nose when I asked him to leave. He gets a freebie for touching, but I’m not about to let some idiot punk get away with punching me.”

My eyes sweep the crowd of people watching us, racking my brain for an idea. “So you’re just going to hit him and let him go?”

The thin guy shrugs. “Haven’t you ever heard of an eye for an eye? He hit me so I hit him, then he can walk out of here.”

The idea of watching this guy ram his fist into Luke’s not too-bad-looking nose makes me squirm. I should do something… for him… and for me maybe, too. I’ve had a crappy night and testing my boundaries in a fight seems so much better at the moment than feeling the weight of the crappiness. It’d take my mind off Preston, the detective, the fact that I’m probably homeless.

I feel my heart pitter-patter with excitement as I dive headfirst into the mess with no regard for my future. “Look…” I pause so the thin guy will give me his name, but he doesn’t catch on. I inhale quietly through my nose and exhale through my lips, preparing myself to create one of the best lies I’ve ever come up with. “You can’t kick my boyfriend’s ass. He does this sometimes, you know. But he just found out that we were going to have a baby.” I rub my stomach, blowing it out a little. “And he’s been really stressed working two jobs so we can move out of the apartment and get a house.” I take a deep breath and let it out, releasing the tears I only let flow when I’m playing a part. “Plus, he has a drinking problem and I don’t really know what to do anymore but he’s the father of my child and I need him, you know?” I let tears drip out of my eyes and the thin guy shifts awkwardly. “You can’t hurt him otherwise he’s going to have to miss work and we can’t afford it.”

I’m not sure if he’s buying it or not but he’s definitely not comfortable with the crying. Most guys aren’t, which makes my ability to cry at the drop of a hat spectacularly good luck. And I don’t mind the crying, just as long as it doesn’t have any emotion behind it.

“Please just let him go.” I finish it off with a heart-wrenching sob, letting my shoulders curve inward as I cover my face with my hand. “Please, I can’t deal with this right now… everything’s just too stressful.”

The whole room is so quiet you can hear a pin drop and some of the guys start to wander back to the tables, over the drama. I glance up and the thin guy is staring at me like I’ve just escaped from a mental institution.

Then he shakes his head and throws his hand in the air exasperatedly. “Just let him go so he can get the f*ck out of here. I’m too old to deal with this shit.”

The large guy shoots him a harsh look. “What about setting an example? You want things to go back to what they where pre-Ted?”

“Ted was a moron who had no idea how to run a strip club,” the thin guy says, cupping his hand over his puffy nose and wincing.

The large guy shakes his head in disgust, but releases Luke and steps away toward the stage. Luke stumbles forward and bumps his shoulder into mine as he grabs on to my arms to hold his balance.

“Sugar dearest,” he whispers with a snorting laugh, his fingers digging into my arms as he laughs in my ear.

I grab on to his arm, helping him get his feet firmly under him. Then holding on to each other, we wind around the tipped-over chairs, broken glass crunching under our shoes. Some of the guys are watching us, but others have already forgotten, staring at the stage. Luke leans his weight on me, gripping at his ribs, and I wonder if he got punched there.

Once we’re outside and safely behind a row of trucks where no one can see us through the bar window, I step away from him and his arm falls from my grip. The sky is a sheet of black, the stars twinkling, and neon lights in the windows of the strip club light up the ground around us.

“So what was that about?” I ask as he trips to the side, fighting to stand up straight on his own.

He glances over me with unresponsiveness, his body tottering to the side. “You’re kind of crazy, Violet with no last name.”

“I’m crazy.” I point at myself as I gape at him. “I’m not the one who groped a stripper in a sketchy club in the middle of nowhere that has bouncers with their own special rules.”