HIS STRIPPER, HIS WIFE novel Chapter 1

Chapter one

Bianca

The fluorescent lights in the hospital buzzed like angry wasps, and I wanted to smash every one of them. I sat on the hard plastic chair outside the ICU, Emma’s medical file clutched in my trembling hands. The numbers on the estimate sheet blurred together, but I had them memorized anyway.

$10,000 for the deposit. Surgery is scheduled in three days. No deposit, no surgery.

“Miss?” The nurse’s voice was gentle, “The doctor wanted me to remind you that without the deposit by Wednesday, we’ll have to postpone Emma’s procedure.”

“I know,” I said without looking up

The nurse hesitated, her eyes softening with pity that made my skin crawl. I didn’t need pity, I needed money, I needed my parents to not be dead so they could help me figure out how to save their youngest daughter.

After the nurse left, I pulled out my phone and stared at the calculator app. $847 in my checking account. My credit cards were maxed out from the previous hospital bills.

The apartment Mom and Dad left us was only partially paid off, and I couldn’t sell it fast enough to help Emma now. My baby sister with her congenital heart defect, was running out of time while insurance companies found creative ways to deny coverage.

I had called everyone, my aunt in Boston had sent $200. My old college roommate had sent $150, along with a sweet message saying she wished she could do more. A few other friends had contributed what they could. Their kindness made me want to cry and scream at the same time because it wasn’t even close to enough.

My thumb hovered over a contact I had sworn I would never call again. Fredrick, my old manager at Velvet Nights.

I walked away from that club eight months ago, promising myself I was done. Done with the leering eyes, the grabbing hands that security always seemed too slow to stop, the way I felt like I needed three showers after every shift just to feel clean again. I had gotten a job as a legal secretary, something respectable, something that wouldn’t make Mom’s voice echo in my head with disappointment even though she was gone.

But legal secretaries made $42,000 a year, and Emma’s medical bills were drowning me faster than I could bail water.

My finger pressed the call button before I could talk myself out of it.

“Bianca,” Fred’s voice answered on the third ring. He sounded amused, like he had been waiting for this call. “I thought you were too good for us now.”

I swallowed my pride, “I need work, Fred. Just for a few weeks.”

“A few weeks.” He laughed, a rough sound like gravel in a blender. “You think you can just walk back in? I have ten girls who would kill for a permanent spot. Why would I give it to someone who quit on me?”

Because I made you a lot of money, I wanted to say, because you know exactly how good I was at this job I hated. “I was one of your best earners,” I said instead, hating how desperate I sounded. “You know I was.”

Silence on the other end, I could picture him in his office, leaning back in that ridiculous leather chair, weighing his options. Fred was a businessman first, always. He wouldn’t hire me back out of kindness, but he might do it for profit.

“Come by tomorrow at six,” he finally said. “I’ll see if I remember you being as good as you think you were.”

He hung up before I could thank him, well.. not that I wanted to thank him anyway.

I sat there for another minute, staring at Emma through the ICU window. She was asleep, her seventeen year old face peaceful despite the tubes and monitors. She looked so small in that hospital bed, so fragile. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow, and I could see the faint scar on her chest from her last surgery three years ago.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though she couldn’t hear me. “I’m so sorry, Em. I’ll fix this. I promise.”

I didn’t sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mom’s disappointed face, and heard Dad’s voice telling me to be strong.

The next evening, I stood outside Velvet Nights, my hands were shaking, so I shoved them in my jacket pockets. The club looked exactly the same. Red velvet ropes, a golden sign and Mark the doorman built like a brick wall wearing an expensive suit.

Mark raised an eyebrow when he saw me. “Bianca. Heard you went legit.”

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