Four Seconds to Lose (Ten Tiny Breaths #3)(47)

With a snort, I mutter, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He shifts his body off the desk so that he’s looming over me again. “I think you need to get out of this business.”

“Yeah . . .” My focus shifts to the stack of supply order forms on my desk, quickly dismissing him. I’ve heard it before. “Maybe I could get her off the stage and doing management. I’ll pay her well. It’ll be less distracting for me.”

There’s a pause, and then Nate’s hand finds its way to the bridge of his nose to squeeze it, as if he has a sudden headache coming on. “Management, Cain? Those dancers will eat her alive.”

I shrug. “She’s quiet, but she’s not shy.” She sure as hell wasn’t tonight. He’s right, though. You need to have Ginger’s ­personality—loud, pushy, borderline insensitive—to not get walked all over around here. “Maybe I can get China to back her up. People defer to her,” I toss out without thinking.

Nate barks with laughter. “China’s going to help the woman you’re nailing?”

“I’m not—”

“Doesn’t matter. Everyone in this place thinks you are.”

I sigh. “Maybe taking Charlie off the stage will kill all that.”

“That won’t stop the rumors! It’ll only add fuel to the fire.” He shakes his head at me.

“Whatever.” I wave a dismissive hand. “I don’t give a f**k about gossip anymore. It’s been going on for years.” Only this gossip might become fact, the way things are going.

Nate makes his way toward the door. I don’t blame him for wanting to head home; it’s almost four a.m. But he suddenly stops. “Man, I’ve been through hell and back with you, Cain. I owe you everything. But I’m tired of watching you chase ghosts and punish yourself for shit you can’t change—shit that happened years ago and wasn’t your fault.

“Do you remember the night we opened this place? You sat in that chair, pissed out of your skull, watching an old surveillance video of Penny onstage, promising that if you ever met another girl like her, you’d do things differently. You wouldn’t sit back and make excuses. Hell, you said you’d walk away from this business in a heartbeat if you could just have another chance.”

I think back to that night. I remember wanting to shoot myself in the head the next morning after downing half a bottle of cognac. Then I remember seeing the frozen screen shot of Penny’s face on the monitor and wanting to down the other half of the bottle. But I sure as hell don’t remember saying any of that.

Nate doesn’t wait for my denial. “And here you are, doing the exact same thing with Charlie.”

“This is nothing like—”

“It’s the exact same thing!” Nate rarely raises his voice but, when he does, it reminds me that he’s not the scrawny little kid I knew back in South Central. “You knew you wanted Penny and you waited, giving excuse after excuse as to why you weren’t good enough, why she deserved better, why you’d be taking advantage of her. Playing a f**king martyr. And then you finally made a move, when she was on her way to the altar!” His voice suddenly quiets because he knows his words have already pummeled me and his next ones will kick me while I’m down. “And it was too late.”

The air hangs silent and heavy in the room. Nate has hit old wounds that closed over but never truly healed. I should have swept Penny off her feet the second she walked through my door. But I did what I thought was the “right thing” by staying back. I figured I’d wait. Wait until she got out of this business, until she was no longer working for me, and then maybe I’d tell her how I felt.

But a plumber named Roger beat me to it. He came along, showering her with flowers and romantic dinners, making her feel as special as I wanted to. As I should have. He proposed to her within four months. It was fast and unexpected and it hit me like a freight train but still, I held my resolve, convincing myself that he could give her a life I couldn’t. She deserved a white picket fence and a respectable father for her babies. I was a f**king strip club owner with a cargo plane’s worth of skeletons.

The night she came to me to tell me they had decided to elope the coming weekend and she wouldn’t be coming back to Penny’s, I panicked. I couldn’t deny it any longer—I was in love with her and I selfishly wanted her for myself.

So I spilled my guts. I dropped to my knees, my hands wrapped around her legs, begging her not to marry him, to stay with me, to give me a chance. I told her everything about me. Everything! It all just tumbled out.

She yelled at me for not telling her how I felt sooner, cried that she couldn’t do that to Roger, that he was good to her and it would wreck him. And then she completely broke down, spilling into my arms. We made love that night in my office, for the first and last time. She left with a “sorry.”

No one but Roger will ever know exactly what happened the next night. The video surveillance showed her working her last shift with a sad smile. Everyone assumed it was because she would miss the friends she had made. I couldn’t face her, and so I hid in my office like a coward, burying myself in paperwork.

Around midnight, the last cameras caught Penny and Roger in a whispered conversation. By the tears in her eyes and the repeated “I’m sorry” forming on her lips while she fumbled with her ring, as if trying to take it off, I have a good idea what they were talking about.