Angel

[Charlotte]

It’s been 62 days. 62 days since Andy broke my heart and I fell into the arms of an incredible stranger. A man too amazing to be real. 

The only one who knows about that night is Juni. Nobody else can know. If they did, it could ruin everything. My soon-to-be-ex husband will make sure of it. 

Thankfully, San Francisco is a large city and the odds of us crossing paths again are very slim. Even if my mystery man did find me, I’m sure that if he saw me he’d either walk right past without recognizing me. Because without makeup and Juni’s designer dresses, I’m just…me. 

And right now I am filthy, covered in sweat as I head home from my day job to eat dinner with my daughters. From there I’ll be heading out to my new night job.

A job I never wanted to take.

But after being a stay-at-home mom for 5 years, I didn’t have the right kind of experience on my resume to secure steady, good-paying work in a city as competitive as San Francisco. The only jobs that I can find that are willing to hire me are the ones that pay minimum wage. 

But it isn’t enough to live on. Not by a long shot.

This whole situation feels impossible. Without Juni, I’d be alone in this world. Some days I feel like giving up. But I keep going for my daughters. Even if that means I have to do things I’d never dream of doing. 

Our life is made of choices.

Tonight I am making another choice.

As I get on the bus heading back into the city, my hair done, my makeup perfect, I look ahead, the sun setting on my old life. 

Because tonight I'm choosing to survive, to be strong for my children.

Tonight, I start my career as an exotic dancer.

[Micah]

It's been two months since my angel waltzed in and out of my life.

My mind keeps spinning, circling back to that evening over and over again. I've tried to find her. But none of the video cameras that night got a good image of her face, and nobody who worked in the club could remember her. I return almost every night, but she remains elusive, a mystery.

I need a distraction. I head for the elevator leading down to the executive basement parking lot.

“Rough day, Sir?” Roger, my driver, greets me as he stands ready by the SUV.

“Excruciatingly so,” I respond as soon as I take my seat, rubbing my temples as I lean my head against the inside of my car window.

“The usual,” he asks about our destination, breaking eye contact as he starts the car..

“No,” I shake my head, unable to bear another night of disappointment waiting for my angel to appear. “I need a special distraction tonight.”

“Club Roxy it is,” Roger steers us out of the parking garage and onto the streets of San Francisco. 

“It’s going to be a few minutes, Sir,” Roger announces “It looks like there’s another accident on Mission.”

“Can we get around it?”

“Working on it, Sir,” he grunts as he closes the frequency. I take a quick sip of my drink and hold it aloft, taking joy in watching the city lights dance within the amber liquid knowing that Roger has control of the situation. He hasn’t failed me yet. I hired him a few years ago because of his creative problem-solving skills, expert handling of most mechanical vehicles, and unflappable nature. He has also proven to be extremely discrete when needed. These are excellent qualities in an employee. 

Club Roxy is a popular hang-out for visiting elites, urban socialites, and other high-caliber clients. Without pausing I march directly towards the front door. No need to wait in line when you own the place.

The bouncer moves aside, giving me a nod.

The bar is dark as I enter, the only illumination coming from the stage. Beautiful men and women weave around tables, helping customers with drinks, their revealing costumes just another part of the show. I head to my exclusive seat, a special table always reserved in my name as the club owner, and even though I rarely use it, there is still a single chair at a small round table tucked away in a shadowy corner with a small "reserved" sign and a chilling bottle of champagne.

Perfect.

Wanting to shake off my foul mood, I catch the attention of a cocktail waitress and make a sign indicating that I require a drink before turning around to see the next performer. She had already started her act as I was finding my way to my seat, so I missed her name but when I looked up, I was gifted with a view into heaven.

Hanging upside down from a pole at the edge of the catwalk, she twirls slowly, her black costume glimmering under the light like a dark star. Her beautiful, long, muscular legs are extended in a full split as she turns in slow circles along the length of the pole. Mesmerized, I leave my seat and approach the stage. She holds her pose for one more second before the song crescendos again and she drops back to earth perfectly en pointe, twirling in place before using the pole to help her bend over backward.

That's when I notice she has the most stunning gray eyes. 

Those eyes, that body...I would know her anywhere.

Standing up I approach the edge of the stage. I reach forward and place five one-hundred dollar bills down the front of her jeweled bra. She gives me a genuine smile of gratitude, not giving away any sign that she even recognizes me as she twirls away, and I realize she must not have seen who I am with the bright lights in her eyes. I watch unmoving as she pulls on the waistband of her skirt with the sharp crack of a snap as it releases, unwinding the slinky sheer garment from her body as she spins. It lands at her feet, a discarded cloud of dreams as she stalks toward the audience with pure, predatory, sensual power. More bills fall to the ground as her perfectly toned body is revealed from the waist down, a small gem-encrusted g-string the only thing between her innermost self and the world. Slowing her motions she reaches back, and with the last bar of the song, removes her bra with a small click, freeing her beautiful breasts, her areolas hidden by two swans, one black, the other white.

The audience is silent, stunned.

We just witnessed a miracle.

I retake my seat and the cocktail waitress finally makes her way over to me. She smiles apologetically, bending forward trying to give me a free show. She doesn’t realize that I have no interest in her. I can only think about the angel on stage.

My Angel.

Three minutes pass before Megara, the club manager takes a seat next to me.

I don’t give her a chance to settle before I ask, “The girl who was just on stage, what was her name?

“Scarlett,” she cocks an eyebrow at me. “Scarlett Bellarina.”  She knows what I’m going to say next because before I can she adds. “She’s not for sale, Kane. She’s a good girl, not one of your toys.”

“Everybody is for sale,” I curl my lip. “You just need to know the right price.”

“Not her,” she shakes her head. “That girl has gone through too much. Her husband Andy left her high and dry with twin daughters to take care of. She doesn’t need your kind of trouble too.”

I’m starting to wonder if everyone named Andy is some kind of asshole as I place a stack of $100 bills on the table between us. Pulling out three I set them in front of her. “I need her real name.”

“You know that’s confidential,” she scowls. “I have a duty to protect these women and…” she stops yammering when I pull out three more bills and add them to the pile.

“A name and an address, if you don’t mind.”

“Charlotte,” she hisses. “Her real name is Charlotte Slate.”

“Slate?” my ears perk up. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that her name is Charlotte Slate with a husband named Andy Slate who just stepped out on her, but I can’t imagine it is.  Fate has a funny way of making life interesting.

The woman of my dreams is married to my current enemy.

“And her address?” I pull out another three bills. $900 sits on the table in front of her. Megara adjusts herself in the seat as she considers what to do.

“What you’re asking for is unethical,” she reminds me.

“So would shutting down this nightclub because of my current mood,” I point out. “But considering I own this place, I wouldn’t have a problem with doing that either.”

Her scowl deepens.

“Send me her employee file by the end of the evening.” I place the rest of the stack on the table. She ignores it for now but I know she’ll take it. She cannot afford not to. I am in control here, despite what she might think.

Now that I’ve found my Angel, I have no intention of letting her go.