Gastown Girls

HANNAH

My bed was shaking. Earthquakes were fairly common in Vancouver—nothing to get alarmed about. I drifted back to sleep, hoping Cleo didn’t feel the tremor. She was terrified of quakes.

“What the heck?” I mumbled when my phone started chirping with text alerts.

Cleo’s penguin mating call wasn’t the only one. Alexis’s firecracker went off multiple times in a row, followed by a flurry of generic notifications.

I reached for my phone on my nightstand—except my nightstand wasn’t there. Because I wasn’t in my bedroom. I was on Reefer’s yacht, sleeping next to the engine room.

The “earthquake” was the boat swaying. A crack of thunder sounded overhead.

I stumbled out of the bed, grabbing my phone from the chair where I’d left it. The screen was filled with notifications. I clicked on Alexis’s messages. She was so dramatic.

Paddy was Alexis’s best friend. They’d been hanging out together since they were seven years old.

Alexis was a needy kid, always craving attention. My parents had enrolled her in Big Sisters, a program designed to match women with young girls requiring mentorship.

Most of the kids in the program came from troubled or low-income homes. We were definitely low income, but that wasn’t the reason she was referred to the program by our principal.

My sister had been very disruptive in class, so she’d found herself in the hall quite often.

But there was nobody out there to pay attention to her, so she would start singing at the top of her lungs until she was sent to the principal’s office.

One day, the receptionist made the mistake of leaving her alone for a few minutes.

Alexis picked up the phone and ordered twenty pizzas with green olives, pineapple, and extra anchovies to be delivered to the school.

Paddy’s mother had been assigned to be Alexis’s big sister, and Alexis had remained close with the family after the mentorship ended.

Everybody knew Paddy was in love with my sister, except my sister. She was completely oblivious.

Paddington was kind of nerdy. He was a funeral director. His family was mega rich and they owned several funeral homes around Vancouver.

If Alexis would grow up and get her head out of her ass, she’d see what a great catch he was. He treated her like a queen; Paddy would do anything for her.

And he had a way with Cleo. That was something that couldn’t be overlooked. My older sister didn’t like many people, but she loved Paddy.

I flipped to Cleo’s texts. She’d mostly sent emojis with the odd word thrown in. The emojis consisted of middle fingers, angry faces, and broken hearts.

Most of the words started with f and ended with k. She called me a bitch and managed to type I hate you.

The texts from my coworkers were much more supportive. The women I worked with were a pretty good bunch.

I opened up my browser, shocked to see my Facebook profile picture next to a photo of Reefer.

Reefer Is Dating A Stripper

I clicked on the link to the story.

Reefer was spotted on a yacht docked at Smith Cove in Seattle on Sunday afternoon. The luxury vessel belongs to the five-time Grammy winner.

Sources tell us the rock star and his girlfriend were intercepted by US Customs due to mismatched Covid vaccines.

They have been ordered to remain on the 350-foot super yacht until a broken propeller can be repaired and they can return to Canada.

I stared at the photo of me arguing with Reefer on the deck.

The lovebirds appeared to be having a disagreement. Is there trouble in paradise already? How long has the relationship been going on?

We identified the mystery woman as thirty-year-old Hannah Taylor from Vancouver. Taylor is a stripper at an establishment called The Go Down Club.

Reefer is one of Canada’s most eligible bachelors. At forty-five, the tall, dark, and handsome singer has never been married.

Female fans across the world are crying this morning with the news that Mr. Maines is off the market.

We took to social media to see what people were saying.

While some fans expressed happiness for the couple, many were outraged, calling Taylor a whore and wondering why a man like Reefer would settle for a stripper.

I made the mistake of reading the comments below the article. People were saying horrible things about me. How could they do that? They didn’t even know me.

How was I supposed to explain this to Cleo? She wouldn’t understand.

I jumped when someone knocked on my door. “Who is it?”

“Miles.”

“Just a second,” I called out, scrambling to put on some clothes.

They’d sent me satin nighties in my care box, but I didn’t sleep in lingerie. T-shirts and shorts were my bedtime outfit. But beggars can’t be choosers.

And I had to admit, the pink one I was wearing was pretty darn comfy.

I tugged on my jeans, wrestled my boobs into my bra, and yanked a tight Seattle t-shirt over my head.

Miles was leaning against the wall when I opened the door. His eyes dropped to my chest before meeting my stare with poorly disguised lust.

Men were such pigs. Every last one of them. Why were they all so damn mesmerized by big tits?

“Sorry I took so long,” I muttered, not really meaning it. “I wasn’t decent.”

“I’ve seen you naked.”

I clenched my fists, wishing I could slap that smug smirk right off his face. Why did he have to be such an asshole?

“What do you want?” I snapped.

“I need to tell you something.”

“If it’s about the picture they took of us yesterday and the story they made up, I already know.”

“You saw it?”

“Yep. I woke up to a bunch of texts from my sisters and some people I work with.” I sat on the end of the bed with a heavy sigh. “People are saying awful stuff about me.”

“I told you to stay out of sight.”

“No, actually you didn’t. Not until it was too late.”

“I apologize. I thought Judd explained it to you.” He ducked under the doorway, stepping inside my room. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your boat.”

“Yes. But this is your room while you’re here, and I need your permission to enter.”

“What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“Did your manager get it straightened out with border services?”

He grabbed the chair and spun it around, straddling it with his long legs. “You have to apply for a passport.”

“What?!”

“I know. It’s ridiculous. You need a passport to return to your own country.”

“How am I supposed to apply for a passport?”

“You can do it online.”

“How long will it take to get it?”

“A few days.”

“I can’t stay here that long! I have to go to work! My sisters can’t manage without me!”

“Dean already spoke to your boss,” he said. “You won’t get fired, and I’ll pay you the money you’re losing.”

I lifted my head, staring at him in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s my fault you’re in this predicament.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“What about your sisters? What can I do for them?”

“Nothing. My little sister will have to step up.”

He studied me thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the chair. “My publicist will take care of this mess, clarify the reason for your presence on my yacht.

“But there’s no guarantee the paps will buy it. They believe whatever sells stories. A rock star dating a stripper is much more interesting than a rock star’s employee with a passport issue.”

“I just want to be left alone.”

“I think you need to be prepared for a media frenzy.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I gasped, choking back a sob.

“It’ll blow over when they find something more interesting to talk about.”

“Great,” I muttered, swiping at my tears.

“So, it appears as though we’re going to be here for a while longer. I propose we call a truce.”

“Why?”

“Why do I want to call a truce?”

“Yes. Why?”

He cleared his throat, scratching his jaw while he stared past me. “I’ve treated you poorly. I apologize for that. It had nothing to do with you personally.”

“I’m not a whore.”

“I’m sorry for calling you one.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I’d like to invite you to stay in one of my guest rooms on the main deck.”

“I’d like that,” I mumbled, rubbing the toe of my canvas shoe against the tile floor.

“Okay then,” he said, pushing himself up from the chair.

“How tall are you?” I blurted out.

He grinned, his dimples popping out and triggering a gusher between my legs.

What the heck?

“Six-five.”

“Holy…”

“Do you want a hand carrying your stuff up?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

***

“Wow,” I gushed, spinning in a circle as I took in my new accommodations. “This is quite an upgrade from steerage.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Miles chuckled, setting my box on the floor inside the door.

“There’s a skylight over the bed!”

“I would suggest you stay off the balcony and keep the blinds closed.”

“Really? This room faces the water.”

“Yes. But I fully expect to see photographers out in boats, trying to get a picture of us. You might even see drones. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”

“How do you live like this?”

He shrugged. “It’s the price of fame.”

“I suppose.”

“Judd tells me you offered to cook dinner.”

“I did.”

“What are you making?”

“Judd asked if I could make chicken parmesan.”

“Of course, he did,” he sighed, shaking his head. “He would eat that every night of the week if someone made it for him.”

“I guess he likes what he likes.” I smiled shyly, chewing on my lower lip when our eyes locked.

He cleared his throat, backing toward the door. “Enjoy your new room, Hannah,” he said gruffly.

***

“Oh, my God!” Alexis shrieked. “I can’t believe you’re stranded on Reefer’s yacht with him!”

I held the phone away from my ear while my sister carried on like a lunatic.

“Alexis, calm down,” Paddy said.

“Thanks for helping out, Paddy.”

“No problem, Hannah.”

“How’s Cleo doing?”

“She’s calmed down quite a bit.”

“How many batches of cupcakes did you have to make?”

“Five,” he chuckled.

Cleo loved to bake. We all did. My mother was a pastry chef and she’d instilled the love of baking in all three of us.

We were going to open our own bakery someday. All four of us would work there.

It would have been great for Cleo. She couldn’t bake anything on her own, but she could certainly help.

She was very good at organizing ingredients and measuring. My sister was obsessed with measurements.

But the bakery was a pipe dream. My parents were dreamers who lacked the ambition to follow through.

The concept of hard work wasn’t one they embraced. Neither of them could hold down a job for very long. My mother was very talented, but that only went so far. She lacked the drive to succeed.

“Can I talk to her?”

“She’s right here.”

“Hi, Cleo.”

“When are you coming home?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why?”

“I’m stuck.”

“In an elevator?”

“No, sweetie,” I laughed. “I’m stuck on a boat.”

“I wish we could get a cat.”

“Maybe we can look into that when I get home.”

“Paddy put too much sugar in the cupcakes.”

“He’s a man.”

“Yeah.” She giggled.

“I’m sorry I upset you, Cleo.”

“I wish I could have a sleepover with Reefer.”

“If I could trade places with you, I would.”

“We should name our cat Reefer.”

“Or Miles.”

“Paddy bought me a new coloring book.”

“He did?”

“A tiger at the zoo has the virus.”

“I heard about that.”

“She’s gone,” Alexis said. “She went into her room and closed the door.”

“Is she still mad at me?”

“She’s stopped muttering bitch, so I guess you’re forgiven.”

“Thanks again, Paddy,” I said. “I owe you one.”

“You can thank me by inviting me to the wedding.”

“Very funny.”

***

“I thought we were having chicken parm!” Judd cried, staring down at the plate I set in front of him.

“I didn’t have the right ingredients.”

“Bullshit! I unpacked the food crate!”

“I’ll make it tomorrow night if we’re still here.”

He lifted his head, glaring across the table at Miles. “You rat bastard.”

“What?” Miles mumbled, his mouth full of meatloaf.

“You told her to make meatloaf.”

“I did not.”

“Right. She just happened to know that meatloaf and mashed potatoes is your favorite meal?”

“He didn’t ask me to make it,” I said. “I knew it was his favorite meal.”

“I knew you were an obsessed fan,” Miles teased.

“Not me. My sister.”

“Sure.”

“It’s true.”

“Uh-huh.”

When he smiled at me, my entire body flooded with warmth. My heart fluttered, my belly doing cartwheels while my panties flooded for the second time that day.

I squirmed in my chair, unable to tear my eyes away until Judd’s voice broke through our heated stare.

“You promise you’ll make chicken parm tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” I said while Miles undressed me with his eyes. I was a stripper, I knew that look well. The man who claimed he didn’t fuck whores was entertaining dirty thoughts about me at the dinner table.

I should’ve been repulsed.

But my dripping panties suggested otherwise.