Ryan shakes his head, “You know Alana, notevery woman looks like you, has your brains, or your sexuality orconfidence.”
“What does that have to do withanything?”
“Not every woman has men falling at theirfeet like you.”
“Men don’t fall at my feet, Ryan.”
“I did. The first time I saw you, I wouldhave done anything you asked. Even now. All these years later.”
“Ryan-”
“That’s part of the reason I do it. Whenwomen come to see us dance, it’s not just about me taking myclothes off, some women are starved for attention and all they wantis someone to notice them. And we do that. We make them feel good.Emily was having a damn good time with me until she found out who Iwas.”
“Can you please not bring Emily into thisconversation? I’ve been working for days to scratch that mentalpicture out of my head.”
“You didn’t like it? Seeing me dance?”
I stop. Did I like it? Yes, I did. He wassexy and alluring and I remember saying to myselfgoddamn he canmove. But that was before I knew who he was. Before I knew heused to be mine.
“I liked it when you had anonymity.”
“Is my occupation going to be a deal breakerfor you, Alana?” Ryan asks in this sexy, manipulative tone. And ifI didn’t know any better I’d think it’s the same one he uses on allhis women.
“What if it is? What then?” I challenge.
Ryan looks clearly disappointed, “Then I’llquit.”
“What?”
“I’ll quit. If it means I have to choose, Ipick you. You’ll just have to support me for a while, because I’mnot going to find easy money like that anyplace else.”
“How much do you make?” That’s an incrediblyrude question, but I can’t help it, he piqued my curiosity.
“Anywhere from eight hundred to a thousand anight. But that’s the high end. Most guys usually only make aboutfour or five hundred.”
“That much?”
“It’s an expensive city to live in and notall of us have daddy to depend on.”
I look away from him and down at thepark.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re one ofthe lucky ones.”
“I’m not lucky, I’m just privileged. There’sa big difference,” I clarify indifferently.
“And utterly lacking love,” Ryan pulls one ofmy cards.
I look back at him, trying to mask thesadness. I’ve never been good at expressing my feelings and Ryanknows it. I guess that’s one trait my father and I do share. Butjust because I don’t show them, doesn’t mean I don’t feel them.
“Ilove you,” he says like he’s tryingto penetrate the barrier.
“You don’t even know me anymore,” Iargue.
“That’s not true. I know you’re still thatgirl who doesn’t take shit from anyone, who deep down wants to helppeople and who loves unconditionally when given the chance. That’swho I know.”
I glare at him blankly, without an ounce ofemotion. I hate that it’s so easy for him to lay everything out onthe table without fear or hesitation, but that’s Ryan’s way, italways has been.
“Don’t put the wall up Alana, we’ve beenthere before.” He leans forward arrogantly, “You know what’llhappen, I’ll demolish it with a battering ram.”