man of his size. He turns and his eyes catch mine. They register surprise then cautious curiosity. “Trix.”
“Mason, hey.” I step onto the blue mats and cross to him. “I noticed you over here and wanted to say hi.”
He hands the pads he was holding up for Denny to Leon. “Hey, man, you mind holding these for the next guy?” Leon nods excitedly and slips on the pads. After a quick instruction from Mason, he goes down on his knees to take punches.
Mason turns his attention back to me, his towering frame seeming so much bigger now, maybe because I’m not wearing my heels.
“I’m glad you came over. I have to say”—he casts his gaze around quickly—“I didn’t take you for the volunteering type,” he whispers.
I shrug. “Eh . . . condition of my parole. It was this or pick up trash on the side of the freeway.”
His smile fades. “Parole? Really?”
“No.”
He grips his chest and shakes his head, a low chuckle rumbling from his wide chest. “Damn, I was gonna say . . . You’re full of surprises.”
I survey the gym and shrug. “I like the kids, and you know I like to dance so . . .”
“You’re training the next generation of strippers, huh?” He immediately cringes. “Sorry, that was supposed to be a joke.”
I wave him off. “Yeah, I got that. Funny.” An awkward silence builds between us, and my eyes dart everywhere to avoid getting lost in his square jaw and full lips. “So you’re one of the UFL guys. I’ve seen a few of them come through here. Cool thing you guys are doing.”
“Wish I could say I came here by choice, but our boss is a demanding ass and forces us.”
His statement stabs me with a sliver of disappointment, but I’m not completely sure why. “Give it a chance. You’ll learn to love it.”
“I can see that.” His face goes serious, and he moves in close. “Listen. I wanted to talk to you about last night, but you took off so fast. About my phone—”
“Oh, yeah”—my cheeks heat—“I feel really bad about that.”
“Don’t. I shouldn’t have blown up at you the way I did. I had just come from . . . You know what? It doesn’t matter.” He meets my eyes. “It was uncool and I’m sorry.”
“No biggie, really.” I turn to look over my shoulder at my girls, who are all staring with open mouths. “Listen, do you want to have lunch with us later?”
“Lunch?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t even think to bring anything.”
“That’s okay. I’ll share mine.”
He squints one eye. “Really? You’d do that?”
I lean in, and he meets me halfway, the organic scent of his skin, like cedar and honey, swirls and scrambles my senses.
I take in a deep breath and whisper, “I’m an exotic dancer, not a monster.”
Mason
I put in my hours and am technically free to leave, but instead, I’m sitting in the grass under a tree with Denny and a couple of the older boys I was working with along with Trix and three teenage girls. A slight breeze takes the edge off the Vegas summer heat, and the ground beneath us is cool enough to make the temperature comfortable.
Trix sits with her back against the tree’s trunk, her toned legs stretched out in front of her, as she digs through an insulated lunch box. I’m close to her feet, legs out, palms to the grass behind me.
“Mr. Mason said I could fight for the UFL when I grow up, Miss Trixy.” Denny digs into a brown paper bag lunch the Community Youth Center provided.
Grinning, Trix tosses me a silver juice pouch. “I don’t doubt that, Den. You’re pretty spectacular.”
The kid pulls all the food from the bag while the older kids huddle on the opposite side of the tree. “Yeah.” He chews on a bite of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. “Mr. Mason said I’m a natural.”
Her eyes on the boy, her expression softens before she aims her smile at me. “I saw your moves,” she says, but doesn’t take her eyes from mine. “I think Mr. Mason’s right.” She hands me a little bag filled with carrots and rips a sandwich in half. “Here. It’s just turkey and mustard. I hope that’s okay.”
I take her proffered food, feeling like a total dick, but also not wanting to offend her by rejecting it. “Are you sure? I can wait until I leave to eat.”
“I always bring extra. The Center gives them lunch, but the