Dare to Dream Read online

  Dare to Dream

  Texas Boys #1

  By C.J. WELLES

  Dare to Dream

  Texas Boys #1

  Published May 2017

  Copyright© 2017 C.J Welles

  All rights reserved

  Cover designed by KatDeezigns

  Formatting by C.J. Welles

  Edited by Shannon Wills

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, incidents and businesses are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All song titles, lyrics, film titles, trademarked statuses and brand names mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners. C.J. Welles is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, artists, musicians or songs mentioned in this book.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my beautiful sister.

  You amaze me with how you come wrapped up in a smaller package and are vertically challenged but your personality is larger than life.

  Some people may think you are quiet and shy, but I know better. Over the years, I have been on the receiving end of many of your outbursts. Most of them I deserved.

  We argue like crazy and some days you make me want to bang my head against the wall. But I love you dearly and my life would not be the same without you.

  You have been there for me when I have needed you the most and I am so lucky to have you.

  Do not change who you are for anyone.

  This book is for you girl.

  xxx

  Prologue

  Callie

  I LOOK AROUND my room at the broken pieces of my belongings scattered over the floor, the dark shadows that linger in the corners and the smashed heart shaped jewelry box on my bed, that my grandmother bought me when I was little.

  The room looks how I feel inside, and it makes me cringe.

  My life is broken.

  My heart and soul have been chipped at until there is now only emptiness where they once were.

  The shadows are where the devil lingers in my life and emerges at night in the darkness.

  Grabbing a bag, I shove whatever clothes will fit inside, as well as a photo album full of photos of my grandparents and me. Everything that goes into my bag is all I will have for my future. They are the only things from this house that I want in my future. Everything else can go to hell along with the people who live here.

  Just inside the front door, I turn to look at the devil standing across the room and glare at him. All he does is leer at me. A cold shiver makes its way down my body.

  Just being this close to him makes bile rise in my mouth.

  Makes me want to curl up in a ball and wish for everything to end.

  “You are nothing but a monster,” I growl at him, which makes him smirk and shrug his shoulders.

  Turning the door handle, I step outside to freedom and leave the devil behind.

  Unfortunately, some demons live on inside my head.

  ∞∞∞

  Chapter 1

  Callie

  Three Years Later

  HIS HANDS ARE gripping my hips as I seductively grind my ass into his lap. I can feel his erection as I push down onto him. Lifting my arms up and twining them around his neck, I close my eyes. His friends all cheer as he moves his hands to my tits and squeezes them. I still have my padded bra on, so he can’t get a feel of much, not that it bothers me.

  Club rules though are no touching of any kind. The clients always give bigger tips if they can cop a feel, so I let them get away with it when I can. Most of the big tippers are wealthy businessmen, who leave their show wives at home to have a little bump and grind with someone who knows how to please. Lifting myself from the guy’s lap, I pull away and turn around. I need to break away before he gets too carried away and tries to go further. I cannot lose my job. The boss is an asshole and doesn't care who starts it, but if anything happens the dancer is fired, and the client banned.

  The man groans. “Come on darlin’, I was having fun,” he says with a sweet voice as he goes to grab my hand, but I step back and waggle my finger at him.

  I look him up and down as I study him. He’s wearing a dark grey suit, white shirt with the top two buttons undone and his tie is tossed next to him on the seat. He doesn't look dangerous, and he reeks of money. He'd be in his late thirties and not married.

  You can pick out most married men. They have a tan line where their ring sits. There is no way any mistress can say that she never knew that the man who was sleeping with her on the side, was married.

  I slip my hand into my bra and see the man’s eyes widen. God knows what he thinks I'm going to do. I pull out a card and quickly scan the room for Nigel, the boss, as I slip it in the man’s top pocket. Pressing my fingertips to my lips, I then place them against his lips before spinning on my heels and sashaying away.

  The next two hours is standard, and I make $236 in tips for the night. I quickly learned that the more you reveal, the happier men are about throwing bills at you. It's nothing to me, to strip down to my thong on stage and prance around.

  I don’t see what the big deal is.

  It's only skin, and even though the men get excited, it's nothing they haven't seen before.

  After getting changed into my regular clothes, I walk back out to the bar and say goodbye to Faye, who works behind the bar. She’s in her mid-forties and acts like a mom to us dancers.

  “Make sure you call a taxi, young girl. The city is no place for a pretty little thing like you to be walking in at night.”

  “Faye,” I reply in a warning tone as I wave at her over my shoulder. She knows I won’t call one, but she still says it every night.

  As I walk out onto the sidewalk, I crash into a couple of guys who are walking along the street, joking and talking with each other.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say when I bend down to pick up the football that I had knocked out of one of the guy's hands. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “No worries,” the man says. I look up and come face to face with four guys from the Cowboys football team.

  My mouth drops open, and no words come out. Clive Hanson, Drew Ford, Jace Thompson and Kyle Stevens stand in front of me, all looking sexy and dressed in jeans and their team polo tops.

  “Oh, God, how embarrassing,” I say as my cheeks pink. “I really am sorry,” I rush out just before I turn and powerwalk down the street towards my apartment.

  Hot damn. The first time I meet a famous person and I embarrass myself by running smack bang into them.

  By the time I reach my apartment, that I share with my friend Krystal, my feet are killing me. It’s only a five-block walk, but I’ve walked to and from work every night this week, and my feet have had enough. You'd think that after being out on my own for three years, my feet would be used to it. I have a perfectly fine working car, but I figure living this close to work I can just as easily walk. I don’t need to be getting a fat ass from not exercising and eating take-out as often as I do. As I can’t cook to save myself, I eat take-out, or if Krystal is home, she cooks for us both.

  I swear my feet are screaming with relief when I take the elevator to our sixth floor instead of using the stairs. It’s just after mid
night when I walk into our apartment. I dump my purse on the side table and head for the kitchen. I’m starving after a long night, so I grab a bagel from the pantry and some cream cheese, then messily spread some cheese on the bagel. Taking my midnight snack and a bottle of water, I head for the sofa and sit down to watch Scrubs.

  *

  "WHAT ARE YOU doing Callie?" Martin asks as he looks at me with a pleasant smile while I sit up and lean against my bed head.

  "Just homework. I've got a math’s exam next week."

  "You'll be fine. You're smart Calli-star." Calli-star is not my name nor my nickname. It's just what Martin has started calling me. My name is Callista, but I only go by Callie.

  "I know, thanks. I want to pass so I can keep my high grades."

  "You will do a great job. I’ve never come across someone as young as you, who is as smart as you.” He stands up next to the bed “Anyway, I was just letting you know there's pizza downstairs for dinner." He walks to my bedroom door as I jump up.

  I’m only wearing a tank top and short cut-off jeans because it’s so damn hot. Being mid-July, it’s still high seventies at dinner time. I squeeze past Martin as he waits in my doorway and I feel his hand graze against my private parts. I jump back and look up at his face, to see if he realizes what’s happened, but his face is neutral. The only thing I can see is his dilated pupils. I turn and rush to the kitchen and don’t say anything, I think he is just as embarrassed as I am, and I don’t want to make a big deal out of nothing.

  After I’ve cleaned up from dinner, I head to the living room, where Martin is watching Sons of Anarchy. I sit in the recliner in the corner and don’t pay much attention to the show. I’ve watched a few episodes before, but I get embarrassed when the sex scenes come on. I’m only fourteen, and a virgin and I feel awkward watching them with my family.

  When two people begin stripping down, and the girl’s naked boobs are right there in the middle of the screen, I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I turn my face away from the TV when they begin having sex and making noises. But what I come face to face with is worse.

  Martin has his eyes focused on me, and his hand is moving up and down in his pants. I’m not naive, I know what he’s doing, and it makes me feel sick.

  I jump up and hurry towards the stairs while yelling, “It’s getting late, I’m heading to bed.” I don’t wait for his reply before dashing upstairs.

  I wake with a start and scan the room until I remember where I am. Sitting up, I rub my hands over my face, removing the sweat from my forehead. Out of all the dreams, this one is always the worst.

  I should have said something back then, then everything else may not have happened.

  Every day I hate myself for not saying something.

  I look up when Krystal comes walking into the room with a cup of coffee. “Hey girl, are you okay? You were mumbling and whimpering in your sleep.”

  “Ah, yeah, I’m fine. Just some weird dream.”

  “What about?” she asks as she sits on the other end of the sofa.

  “Can’t remember,” I lie. “I just remember it was weird.”

  “How was the club tonight?” she asks, and I’m glad for the change of topic.

  “Same as always. Was busy considering it’s a Wednesday night. We did have some good paying customers though.”

  “Was Nigel there tonight?”

  “Didn’t see him. Thank God.” He’s the last thing you want to see before walking out on stage. He’s always whining about something to do with what we’re wearing or how we behave. Like seriously, how does he expect us to act when we’re half naked already, about to strip down to nothing for men to then sit there and perv on us?

  We chat a bit longer before Krystal heads off to bed. I clean up my mess before making my way to my room, hoping to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

  ∞∞∞

  Chapter 2

  Callie

  MIDDAY THE NEXT, day my burner cell beeps. I'm far from stupid, and I know not to give my personal details out to potential clients. I have a few regulars who’ve been seeing me for over a year that have my number. But that’s all. The card I handed that guy last night, has limited details on it. Summer, the name I use and my burner number. With the job I do, customers know what the card means. It doesn’t need the word hooker in big fat black letters.

  I read the text, and it is from the guy last night. He wants to meet tonight at a hotel on the other side of town. I send back a message saying yes, and I suggest meeting at seven.

  I spend my morning cleaning the apartment. Then chill on the couch watching Gossip Girl repeats all afternoon. I loved watching it the first time it come out. It was the only thing I had in my life, when I was in my teens, that I enjoyed doing.

  Back then, I tried to hide away as often as I could. My family hated me, and I had very few friends. Even though my mother hated me, she always made sure I had plenty of money because then she wouldn’t have me bugging her. But I loathed my step-father and refused to spend his dirty money, so I never went shopping unless I was desperate.

  Studying for school and watching television series was all I did to make the time pass.

  Krystal comes home just after four from her day job. She works as a receptionist for some rich bastard who underpays her and is an arrogant asshole of a boss. Then of a night, she works at Platinum Girls.

  "How's your day been?" she asks as she drops her purse on the table then plonks on the couch.

  "Good, just cleaned and been watching Gossip Girl. Nothing interesting." I think about it; my life hasn’t exactly changed much since I was younger. Except for these days, instead of study, I sleep with men then spend all day watching television.

  "Love that show. I should watch it again." I nod in agreement. Standing back up, she heads to her bedroom. "I'm going to shower then cook dinner. I’m going to cook a pot roast if you want some."

  "I won't be here. I'm heading out soon."

  She studies me, and I see a concerned look slide across her face quickly. She tips her mouth into a smile instead of answering, before going to the bathroom.

  I sit, staring at the door she went through for what feels like hours, just thinking. What would my life have been like if Martin had left me alone?

  Would I have stayed working as an attorney? I liked the idea of becoming an attorney, but I love the freedom I have doing what I do now. Was it my childhood that made me become a laid-back person who rolls with the punches or was I always bound to turn out like this?

  Was I always destined to feel so detached from my body that I don’t care what men do to me? Or is it from everything Martin put me through?

  I hate these questions and thoughts that continuously replay over and over in my head, day after day. I hate the fact that I let my mind think of anything to do with him.

  I don’t watch the rest of the episode as I have my usual internal debate with myself, and at five I head for the shower and get ready. Even though I've already got the guys attention, it's still all about appearances. If they like what they see, they will come back for more. Well, that's if you can deliver the goods. And well yes, I can.

  I slip on an emerald green cocktail dress, that hugs my tiny size four figure. I'm not only skinny, but I’m also only five feet two in height. Underneath, I'm wearing a black lace and satin corset that makes my B cup boobs look fuller and a tiny thong which doesn't cover much at all but looks hot and sexy. I decide on black pumps to give me some height.

  Being young and petite, I don't want to look underage, but I don't want to look like I am trying to add years to myself. I keep my makeup light and use a smoky eye effect that makes my cornflower blue eyes shine. I place my long blond hair in a loose twist up-style which I fasten with a diamond clip, and I’m all done.

  Walking to the living area, its half past six and I find Krystal is sitting at the table. "Wow girl, you look hot,” she says with a whistle.

  "Thanks, this one is my favorite," I say as I twirl
around.

  "I wish I had the figure to pull off that look."

  "Krystal, you look hot in anything. At least you have curves, not like my stick figure.” I grab a drink from the fridge before turning back to her. “I'm out of here, I'll be back later tonight," I say as I walk to the door.

  "Where are you headed to?" she asks.

  "Just to a club to meet a friend." I lie. I hate lying to her, but I don't want her to give me hell. Not that she would or that she would think anything wrong about me.

  She nods slowly. “Well stay safe.” She walks over to me and pulls me in for a quick hug.

  *

  GETTING OUT OF the cab outside the hotel, I do a quick self-check before entering. I know the room number, and I only need to give the receptionist a name to get the room key.

  When I enter the room, I’m ten minutes early, but that gives me time to down a few shots before the man turns up. I don’t need to be tipsy to do what I do, I’d do it sober, but I like to have a few shots to loosen up. It causes me to be more playful which makes the client happier.

  The room is a suite, decorated with dark furniture, cream walls, and carpet. On one of the walls is an enormous piece of artwork which looks to be so overrated in price. It’s a bit fancy for what’s going to be involved tonight, so this man must be rolling in money.

  I've just finished shot number three when the door lock clicks, and he walks in. He strides towards me, and I stand as he greets me. "Summer, nice to see you," he says, then lands a light kiss on my cheek.

  I’m sure it’s nice to see me, I’m going to give you the night of your life.

  I offer him a glass, but he declines and moves to stand in front of the couch. Some clients only want to get down to business, and others enjoy a drink before we do the horizontal dance. Sometimes vertical, diagonal and every other position you can think. But anyway, the man standing in front of me is down for business.

  He removes his suit coat and undoes his belt then tosses them both on the couch. I sashay towards him and grab his tie before loosening it. Sliding the end through the loop, I slip it off him and drape it around my neck.