The Dancer and The Wallflower

Chapter 11

. . . . .

When she went to answer the knock on the door, Bella found Rose standing outside in the hallway. Hair pulled into a high fashionable beehive, dressed neck-to-toe in black leather and boots, Rose was beautiful as ever. Her eyes, usually so serenely cool, were a bit apprehensive, and Bella's hand tightened around the doorknob.

"I want to apologize for my behavior the last time I was here," Rose began smoothly, yet there was hesitancy in her tone. "I was operating on the misunderstanding that you were being taken advantage of, but that's no excuse for not respecting your decision as you'd asked. Will you forgive me?"

Bella exhaled in relief and swung the door open, then the two girls were in each other's arms, both talking at once.

"I was so afraid of seeing you again," Bella said.

"I was practicing that speech all day and–"

"-because I didn't know what I was going to say."

"-hoping you weren't going to shut the door in my face."

It was a relief, a huge relief, to have Rose back in her corner, because Bella really needed her no-nonsense perspective on a number of subjects. Mainly Edward.

"Can you stay? Can you come in?" she asked, taking Rose's arms and pulling her inside.

"Of course. I actually came for more than one reason, but the apology was number one. How are you doing?"

Bella shrugged and took a breath. "I could use a friendly ear and maybe some advice."

They settled on Bella's oversized Americana couch with cups of herbal tea, and Bella couldn't help smiling at Rose's composed and cool face. She was pretty sure Rose would have that exact same expression in the middle of a tornado, and survive with flying colors on top of it. Rose's parents had divorced while the girls were still in high school after Rose had discovered that her father was cheating on her mother. And even though her father had sworn to call it off, Rose tearfully told Bella and Alice that she'd forced her father to confess. She'd taken care of her mother during the fallout, then rebuilt a relationship with her father. They still saw each other regularly to this day, and Bella knew that was no small mean feat; that was Rose.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, feeling the emotion build in her stomach and at the bottom of her throat.

Rose gave her a sharp look of askance, then set her cup on the coffee table so she could turn sideways to face Bella fully, sensing that she needed a confidant. "Tell me," was all she said and the tears of relief and anguish came like rain.

"I'm still with Edward. And I know you would say it's too soon, but I'm in love with him," she confessed shakily and wiped at the tears on her face.

Rose arched an eyebrow. "So why are you crying then?"

"Because it's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it for me."

Bella began playing with her nails. "Well," she shrugged. "He's a dancer. That's the main complication."

Rose nodded, but was clearly waiting for Bella to continue.

"He loves me, too, you know. He's so… he's so gentle with me, yet being with him is making me brave in ways I never thought I'd be. I actually honked in anger at another driver the other day."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing," Rose observed dryly.

"No," Bella agreed. "But I've found myself speaking up when before I wouldn't have. Like with Angela," she murmured. "She and I aren't friends anymore. Angela was trying to manipulate me and my life because she's unhappy with her own, and it took me a long time to figure that out. I don't think I would have if it hadn't been for Edward."

Rose gave her a wry smile. "Strong, loving relationships tend to give one a certain perspective. When you know you're loved and supported, that helps give you the motivation to do brave things. And if it's one thing you could use, baby girl, it's a little courage. Bravo."

Bella exhaled shakily. "I'm going to need it with Edward," she said. "Because he's, er, still dancing. But we talked about his job and he's looking for another one. He's actually a marine biologist, did you know?"

"Really."

Bella wondered if she'd be betraying Edward's trust if she shared the reason why he danced. "He can't find work here. He said… he said the reason he does what he does is to pay for the taxes on his estate," she said and waited to see what Rose would say. If it was a betrayal of trust, Rose would know and call her on it.

"There are far worse reasons to strip," Rose noted, then gave Bella a heavy look. "You're still referring to him as a dancer. But that's not what it is, Bella. You know that right?"

She shook her head as if in denial. "I know," she whispered. "But I can't call him that. It–I just can't, okay?"

Rose was silent for a moment, then brought out the big guns. "Then you haven't faced it yet. If you're with him and the two of you love each other, it can't be the elephant in the room, Bella."

"But I have faced it," Bella insisted. That's all she'd been doing lately–facing what Edward did, not liking it, but accepting it anyway.

Rose pursued it, which was typical of her. "I'm not sure I could be with someone who kisses other women for money," she said. "I'm sorry, but it's seedy, not to mention the potential for viruses."

Bella squirmed on the couch. She hadn't even considered the virus potential, and now she really wanted to cry. "But he's not anymore," she said. "He's not kissing anyone anymore. I asked him not to, and he agreed immediately that he wouldn't."

Rose gave her a heavy look of suspicion. "Part of The Cougar Club's allure is that the dancers kiss," she said slowly.

"Oh. Is it?" Bella asked faintly.

"He must make a pretty dollar if he only needs to work twice a week and can still afford those taxes. What does he do with the rest of his time?"

Bella took a sip of her tea and wondered if Edward was going to get in trouble for not kissing the women. He'd made it seem like it wasn't a problem if he chose not to, but if it was part of the club's draw, how could he get out of it?

"Bella?"

"What?"

Rose tilted her head. "You're still back on the kissing thing. Hmm. Ask him about it. Tell him that you're aware of what the club offers, and let him explain, okay?"

She nodded worriedly.

"Don't stress. You're going to ask about it, so leave it at that for now."

Her nod this time was more definitive.

"So if Edward only works twice a week, what else does he do?"

"Um," she drew the word out, trying to shake off the worry as Rose suggested. "He takes care of the estate and the land. It's huge, Rose, a real honest-to-God mansion from the late 1800's that used to house servants and a butler. He takes care of the inside of the house–there are 20 bedrooms and 8 bathrooms."

"Damn," Rose said and whistled. "I would guess that that's more than a full time job, then. I'd love to see it someday." Rose's expression was calculating, yet friendly. "I can see how much you admire him."

"Oh, I do. So much. His land is a wildlife preserve that's been in his family for generations. He feeds the animals a few times a week, and looks after them to make sure they're all right," she explained, remembering the few times she'd accompanied Edward on his property rounds. Remembering Leah the skunk, and the racoons, Quill and Jacob, and their stories. Edward didn't just feed and care for them, he lived with them. "He wants the State of Indiana to accept the land as a preserve, but they only want to make it into a park for people." She sighed again. "He's very passionate about protecting the animals, you see. Saving it is the only reason he does what he does."

"Definitely more multifaceted than I gave him credit for," Rose said with admiration and Bella teared up again. Then Rose sighed and suddenly looked like she meant business. "Which makes what I have to say now even worse."

Bella's stomach fell. "What's worse?"

"Your old acquaintance and co-worker Angela called me yesterday. She and a couple of girls you work with are going to the club tonight. Angela wanted me to come along."

Ice replaced the blood in her veins, and Bella's hands covered her face. Rose words came to her through a fog. "I'm not going, but I wanted you to know."

Bella couldn't think. "What should I do?" she asked.

"Do?" Rose asked. "There's nothing you can do. What, are you thinking about riding up to the front door cowgirl style with guns blazing?"

Well, she wasn't until now.

"I gave her a piece of my mind. Told her she was an insensitive, hypocritical bitch who was losing what little friends she had. I doubt I made an impression. The girl's on a collision course."

"They know I'm dating him," Bella mumbled. "My co-workers? She told them. I overheard her one day in the break room."

"You need a new job," Rose observed.

She huffed. "Yeah. Well, once I get past my first fundraiser, maybe I'll start looking."

"Oh, fundraiser. Tell me." Rose was an Event Planner, so this was right up her alley. Still thinking about Angela and her co-workers going to see Edward tonight, Bella distractedly shared the first grand idea that didn't pan out, then told Rose her new idea.

"I've got everything arranged–I've rented the flooring and selected the music. Now I just need to find a dancer," she sighed.

Rose gave her the arched eyebrow. "Are you kidding me with this?"

Bella frowned. "No. What?"

"Why can't you ask Edward?"

"Ask him what?"

"If you were a guy, I'd be slapping you upside the head right now," Rose told her with an eye roll. "You've been calling Edward a dancer all this time, and you've never thought to ask him to learn The Charleston and teach it? Isn't most of your library traffic female? My God, with him as the instructor, your donations will fly through the roof."

Bella's eyes flew wide open and she gasped. It had been in front of her the entire time. Would Edward actually do that for her?

"Oh, he'd do it for you in a heartbeat," Rose said. "I saw the way he looked at you. It was the only reason why I left that day." Then Rose launched into a spiel about how women should be treated by men, and that for all his faults, Edward seemed to have gotten that part right.

Meanwhile, Bella had an epiphany. If Edward cared enough about her to help with her fundraiser, would he care enough not to dance for her co-workers tonight?

The Cougar Club was as non-descript on the outside as Bella remembered, but her knees got weaker and weaker the closer she got to the door. Hearing the excited voices of women ahead of her wasn't helping. What was she doing here? Was she really doing this? Oh God, what was she doing here?

She'd tried calling him, but it had gone straight to voicemail. Then, she tried texting him.

Edward, Angela and some of my co-workers are coming to see you at 10. Can you please NOT–

She couldn't ask him that in a text, so she tried again.

Edward, can I ask a favor before you go on stage tonight at 10?

There, that was better. Totally reasonable.

But he hadn't answered it. Why?

It was shortly before 8:00 so she knew he wouldn't be dancing yet. Which was a very good thing, because she did not want to see him on the stage again. But then why hadn't he answered her? Was he avoiding her? Why?

Bella knew this was crazy in the back of her mind, she knew it, but rationale had been shoved aside to make room for the panicky feelings of Edward kissing women when he said he wouldn't, and heading Angela off at the pass. If she could only get in to talk to Edward before his last show, these awful feelings in her heart would go away. Surely he wouldn't want to dance for Angela and her co-workers, not if he knew Angela was only coming to humiliate Bella, and not if Bella asked him not to. She had to believe that he wouldn't.

Seth did a double-take when he saw her, then noticed she was by herself. "What are you doing here, Beautiful? I thought your friends had to drag you here the last time."

Her mouth was so dry. "I'm here to see Edward," she said in a voice that cracked.

He smiled slowly. "They all are. I'm just surprised you've come a second time, and all on your own, too. Wow, you must have it bad."

Bella squeezed her eyes closed. "No, not like that," she gasped. "I need to talk to Edward. I can't reach him by phone."

He looked regretful. "I'm sorry, Beautiful. If Edward called back even a quarter of the girls who wanted him, that's all he'd spend his time doing. If you want to see him, it's going to be $40. You almost didn't make it in time, the doors are closing." And the humiliation continued.

Bella handed him her card and wrung her hands together for the hundredth time. "I'll just be a moment," she told him. He gave her a look of puzzlement, then ushered her inside. The door closed behind her with a bang, and she jumped. Apparently the show was just starting.

She stumbled into the black, candle-studded walled room she remembered from her dreams. Like before, there were candles everywhere as the room's decor tried to suggest a warm and romantic atmosphere. The noise level was loud and pitched with excitement. Without the protection of her friends, Bella felt bare. She fell into the seat of a table at the very back, and gulped as the woman she recognized from before climbed the stage in a tight, shiny silver sheath of a dress. Tanya, the Mistress of Ceremonies. Bella said a prayer that the woman would let her in the back to see Edward.

It was the same speech as before–almost word for word, as she welcomed them to The Cougar Club and went around the room asking what the ladies were celebrating. It wasn't until she got to the part about enlightenment that Bella started sinking in her chair; she did not want to see Emmet as Peter the Policeman again.

"We have a special treat for you ladies tonight, a man who's got that extra charisma that–well, you know what it does to you when you see it. Ladies, may I present Edward, our own native Hoosier blueblood in the flesh, here to make your blood simmer!"

Amid the pandemonium and Bella's confusion, because she had not guessed that the club's number one attraction would have been the first to perform, her mind flatlined as he strolled onto the stage to the beat of Strict Machine. He wore the same light blue jeans and button up checked shirt that she remembered from before, but this dance was different. The beat was faster, but he kept up with it effortlessly. Really, he was amazing as his lithe steps seemed to eat up the stage easily, and he was every bit as sexy as she remembered. The athletic grace of his body was released in sensuous movement that arrived dead-center inside of each beat. Bella knew intimately the precise relationship that body had with rhythm. She had learned its accuracy in love. And like an oncoming train that she couldn't take her eyes off, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

As the routine began where he invited assistance to help him undress, the tears filled her eyes, and she raised a hand to slash them away. He didn't see her, and that was a mercy for them both, although it seemed that several times he almost seemed to look right at her. Closer study suggested that it was only a well-conceived illusion that made it seem as if he met her eyes. She also noticed that he made no direct eye contact while he danced with someone on stage, or while they tucked a folded bill into his g-string, or even when he kissed them.

But for Bella, it was the kisses that were the real exercise of masochism. Visually they made a pretty and arousing picture, the women in a series coming into Edward's arms, their clothes light and bright against his golden skin. Although she could barely see through her tears, she could see what she hadn't the first time–the kisses were stylized and shorn of emotion as he smiled like an actor, face muscles accurately aligned, his eyes politely distant. Knowing that didn't help one bit; that was her lover up there, and every kiss he gave was a knife through her heart. The emotion began to fill her throat. She was going to be ill.

She jumped when firm fingers gripped her arm.

"What are you doing here?"

She glanced up into Emmet's dark, concerned eyes and although it was childish, she snapped out, "I've come to see the show."

He bent to his knees. "The last thing he needs to see is you sitting over here with that look on your face."

Indifferently, Bella wondered what look was on her face. Stubbornly, not caring, she said, "I paid $40 to see him, and I'm going to watch it to the end."

Emmet left, then returned almost immediately with a sheaf of bills that he shoved into her hand. "There you go. I've refunded your $40. Go home, Bella."

"Sorry. I want to see the man's body."

"He'll drop his pants for you anytime you want, you already know that."

"For me and everybody else in the whole world with $40."

"Keep your voice down," he said. "This is a public place and I can evict anyone creating a disturbance."

She sniffed. "There's no disturbance."

"Not yet, but there will be if he sees you over here like this." He pulled her up from the table and out into the store part of the club. "Go home," he repeated. "I'll have him call you."

"I have to talk to him now," she said and scrubbed at her face savagely.

"Tomorrow."

"Tonight," she insisted. "Now. Or whenever he's finished."

"Look, he won't want you to see him like this. Do yourself a favor, do him a favor, and go home. I'll have him call you as soon as he gets backstage, okay?"

Something he said caught her attention. "See him like what? What do you mean?"

Emmet tilted his head back in frustration, then gave her a hard look. "He's been drinking. It's been hard for him to work ever since he met you."

Bella's blood filled with ice. Edward was drinking because of them? She stood there immobile, the blood retreating from her extremities like it had when she'd been lost and freezing to death on his lawn, the process slow and violent.

"I need to see him, Emmet."

He exhaled hard, then caught her arm in his and dragged her with him into a side door that led to a cold cement hallway with overhead fluorescent lights that hummed. At the end was another door and once he motioned her inside, she saw a loveseat, two chairs and a table. On the end of one of the chairs was Edward's gray flannel shirt, the one he'd discarded in front of her that day in the bathroom. On the table was a glass and an open bottle of Grey Goose vodka.

A moment or two passed, then Emmet spoke again. "Just remember: whatever you say tonight, you'll have to live with in the morning."

Bella nodded at him; it was a surprisingly mature thing for Emmet to say, considering the man she'd met so far. He turned and left her, his footsteps retreating loudly and then stopping. "Sorry, man," she heard him say.

Edward's voice, short and distracted: "About what?"

And then he appeared in the doorway, hair standing on end as he wiped at his face with a towel. Sweat glistened wetly against his skin, rivulets of water dripping down his stomach into the jeans that were zipped, but left unbuttoned and open. Seeing her there stopped him in his tracks, and Bella watched his face alter from stark indifference to surprise, then warmth. His mouth, swollen and red from kissing, began spreading in a smile.

"Bella," he said joyfully and came to her. She smelled him first, a scent of sweat infused with the scent of many perfumes, then felt his damp chest against her cheek. Struck immobile and voiceless, it was long moments before he realized that she wasn't returning his hug, that she was standing there stiff and breaking apart.

Any other time his pleasure at seeing her would have sliced straight through her heart, but tonight he was shellacked in perspiration and the scent of other women. Other women who he'd promised her he wouldn't kiss anymore. He'd lied to her? But why?

She watched as her revulsion finally registered with him, and he stepped back quickly, his arms sliding from her shoulders. For long moments, he stared at her with a careful blank expression on his face, until he became aware of the stream of blood on his hip.

"Brand new dollar bills are killers," he said with a small smile, then pressed the towel against the cut. She saw his smile was off, crooked and weak at the corners. Oddly, he looked as if he could cry, and her heart broke into another piece. He was restless on his feet, as if he didn't know where to go or where to stand. Then, he caught sight of the vodka on the table and went to sit in the chair to pour some into the glass. She watched with horror as he drank it down rapidly, then replaced the glass on the table with a snap.

"So, here you are." He refocused his attention on her with his laser bright eyes. "I was afraid this was going to happen, but I thought it wouldn't be for another few months yet. That's the thing I could never anticipate, Bella–your timetable." He held up the empty glass. "Want to get drunk with me?"

His misery, hers, bit at her lungs, stole her breath. "Angela and my co-workers are coming to see you tonight," she said. "I tried to call you, to text you…"

"I threw my phone at the wall," he said conversationally. "It's dead." And then, "Angela the busybody and your horny co-workers. Well, I guess I'd better pull out all the stops then." He laughed darkly and it was an ugly sound. "I'll ensure they each get a $40 orgasm."

"Look," her voice broke. "I told you this wouldn't work."

He sprang out of the chair, but stopped short when he remembered her reaction from when he'd touched her earlier. "So it's back to shame?" he asked.

She raised her hands palm up. "Do you think I feel this way by choice?"

He exhaled raggedly. "I'm just trying to save a little slice of the earth, Bella," he said, spreading his own arms. "The earth's resources are finite. It's fragile, and it's the only home we'll have. We can't leave it. But every year we exhaust more of our natural resources. We dump more poison into the air and water. We bury more land under concrete. Creatures that have existed on earth for millennia are dying. The delicate, elaborate ecosystem is being depleted. The earth can't feel its own future, and it's dying. I can't save it, Bella. Please, please just let me save one little piece!"

Bella's heart thumped painfully in her chest. "What do I say? You're trying to save vanishing wildlife habitats. That's important. I'm trying to close off your most viable source of income, so I'm small and petty and vain. Where does that leave us?"

"Bella–" She heard the anguish inside of him break loose. "Bella, what am I but a collection of bones and tissue? If someone wants to pay money to look at that, what does it matter?"

The tears fell and she shook her head. "It's more than that, and you know it. I know it now more than ever." She had to take a few breaths to compose herself. "What if I slept with another man?"

He flinched and swore.

"How would that make you feel, Edward?"

His jaw was flexing, flexing. "Not good."

"Why? I'm just a collection of bones and tissue and if someone else wants to make love to that, what does it matter?"

He raked a hand viciously through his hair. "Well, that nailed me, didn't it? I don't think you can compare making love to stripping, though."

Looking at him became too painful, and she turned to face the wall. "How convenient it is not to be sure. It leaves me with all the guilt, doesn't it?"

His hands sought her shoulders. "Bella, I opened my life to you. It's been years since I've done that for anyone."

She began to shake. "I love you, Edward, but this hurts too much."

He tried to turn her around to face him, but she resisted. "Don't love me then," he cried. "You want me, you desire me, then just use me. Bella, just use me. I'm used to that. If loving me hurts too much, then stop loving me. Just… just don't leave me. Please."

"Edward," she said, terrified and scared about what was happening between them. She couldn't think, she couldn't think.

"Get rid of the guilt," he told her. "Get rid of it and use me. Let me worry about the love, okay? I'm used to being used. I understand it; it's been happening all my life. Do you know how old I was when I had my first experience with a woman? Fifteen. Not a sophisticated fifteen, either. At that age, I was still putting frogs in my pockets. I was a sheltered, protected kid, and one of my mother's friends seduced me in my own home while my parents were away on their anniversary, and I learned everything there is to know about someone treating you as if you were an object. Lately, of course, they want me to do a striptease first…"

By the way he choked on his last words, Bella could tell that he hadn't intended to say them, and her nails dug into the palm of her hands. She had no words of comfort to offer. She had no words at all; she was emotionally spent and empty, which was both harder and easier at this point. Edward. Edward, tell me how I'm supposed to deal with this in a way that makes sense.

She felt her coat being taken from her arm, then he was drawing her hands through the arms and settling it on her back and around her shoulders. "You need to stay warm," he said, and she wanted so badly to turn and walk into his arms. To take him in her own arms, to tell him that it would be okay, but she didn't believe it anymore.

"I genuflect to your purity, Bella," he whispered over her shoulder. "It's just too late for me to catch up. Go home. I won't strip in front of your lost friend and co-workers."

Because she didn't know what else to do, she began walking toward the door. She was halfway down the hall when she heard him say, "So long. It's been real."

A/N: I'm not crying, I just have something in my eye.