Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(62)

Sighing, I throw my head back, staring at the ceiling for a long minute before I finally look at him. “It was only for a couple of months. I was desperate. I started working there as a cocktail waitress like I told you, but the girls who danced would rake in so much money, I became jealous over what they made. Every single one of them encouraged me to dance and after awhile, I finally decided why the hell not? So one night I drank a few shots for liquid courage, got up onstage, and proceeded to make an ass of myself the very first time I danced.”

I remember the embarrassing moment like it was yesterday. The men that catcalled me and the others who openly laughed. My dancing skills had been subpar at best and I’d been a little drunk and sloppy on my feet. But after awhile, I’d gotten into it and danced with wild abandon.

Glancing at Colin, I see he’s glaring at me, expecting me to say more. I don’t want to say more.

But I do.

“The money that the men threw at me when I danced felt empowering. I—I became addicted to the tips. I needed that money. I was all alone. Soon I was dancing six nights a week, working as much as I could. Making as much money as I could. After I’d built up some confidence, I started to offer lap dances.” I look away from Colin, unable to stand to see his reaction. He must hate me so much. “My tips exploded. I saved and saved, ready to put a deposit down on an apartment of my own so I could get away from my awful roommate when one of her creepy boyfriends snuck into my room when I was at work. He searched through my stuff and found the secret stash of cash I kept in a crappy old shoe box under the bed.”

“He stole your money.” Colin’s voice is flat and I refuse to look at him.

“He took it all. My roommate was pissed when I accused her boyfriend of stealing from me. She kicked me out. I was devastated.”

Desperate. Scared.

“Why didn’t you call your parents? They would’ve taken you back in.”

“They hardly noticed I was gone!” I look at him now, see that he flinched when I yelled my answer. “I left because I didn’t seem to matter to them anymore. No one cared. Going home would’ve been a step backward.”

“So you lived in your car instead.” The sarcasm in his voice is thick.

“What was I going to do? I felt like I had nowhere else to go. I was embarrassed, Colin. At the very end of my rope. I did things that I’m not proud of. Not proud of at all.” Things I never even told Fable and she’s my closest friend. She’s the only one who would probably get it.

Colin rescued me within two weeks of the theft, something I’d never told him about either. I don’t like talking about my Gold Digger days.

Clearly, neither does Colin.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this? I mean, I knew what you were . . . doing, but I sure as hell didn’t know everything.” He steps away from me and rubs the back of his neck, looking confused. Hurt. Disappointed.

Completely devastated by my confession.

God. He thinks I’m disgusting for what I’ve done. And he doesn’t even know the half of it. “Why is it any of your business, what I’ve done with my life?” I know why it’s his business—I want him to know. He’s one of my closest friends.

And now I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.

“I’m your friend, Jen. If friends can’t be honest with each other . . .” His voice trails off, the implication clear.

I’m nothing but a liar and a slut. How dare he jump to conclusions? How dare he judge me? Yeah, I’m not proud of the things I did, but I had no choice. I was alone. I couldn’t go back home; my parents were too wrapped up in their own problems to want to deal with mine. They’d ignored me for years and once they lost my brother, it was as if I didn’t exist.

My brother. The only one in my family who really noticed me. The only one who seemed to care as we got older. Now he was dead. I had no one.

Just myself.

“Friends don’t treat each other like they’re trash. At least, not the ones I know,” I say, turning away from him and walking out of the room. I don’t stop as I head toward the employee room and go to the short row of lockers. I open mine up, grab the old purse I’d started using again after the robbery, and slam the metal door, heading back out into the restaurant. I storm past Colin, my head held high, my gaze anywhere but on him.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he barks after me.

I turn to him, my nose tilted into the air. “I’m leaving.”

“You leave right now and you’re fired,” he threatens.

Oh my God. He means it—I can see the grim determination written all over his face. “So fire me, then.” I drop my gaze, refusing to look at him. If I do, I might break down and cry.

“Jenny.” He whispers my name and I chance a glance at him. “Talk to me.” I see the vulnerability in his eyes, the confusion and the sadness. Maybe some of it is tinged with disgust; I don’t know. I can’t really tell. All I know is that he’s judging me and making me feel even worse about my mistakes than I already do. It’s better for me to cut my losses and run. Just like I originally planned.

“Don’t make me do this,” he continues, his deep voice rumbling with agony. “Don’t make me fire you.”

“Are you serious right now? Go ahead.” I flick my chin at him. “Fire me. It’ll give me the excuse to get the hell out of this place even sooner.”