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rafecameronenjoyer · 2 months ago

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THE best rafia fic i have ever read possibly my favorite rafe fic hOLY shit

ʚଓ⋆ mariposa

{summary: after rafe told her to marry him and quit her job sofia is left unsteady from the break up. she finds work at a strip club to make ends meet. on the other side of the island, rafe is feeling similarly unmoored…so he takes a trip with barry to blow off some steam…}

{a/n: sorry for being inactive! busy with uni work! but i had this in the drafts and finally decided to finish it! i mostly avoided writing it because it made me upset, but the idea wouldn’t leave so hereeee, it’s long, be warned!}

{warnings: sex work, disassociation, misogynistic language, lots of angst}

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He got his money back. With interest. More than half a mil securely transferred into his account. But coming back home to Kildare wasn’t like he imagined.

In the back of his mind Rafe had slotted away ideas for honeymoon destinations, bridal shops on the island, the name of her family church. But now all that information was useless, and he tried to slowly part ways with it.

Part ways with the memory of Sofia too.

She’d listened to him. Of course she did. Every single piece of her was effaced from the house: the hair ties she’d leave around on the counters, her toothbrush in the bathroom, the book she kept at his on the nightstand. It’s like she scrubbed extra carefully making sure there was zero trace of her left in his life.

But when he saw the pile of neatly folded T-shirts in his drawers– T-shirts he’d given to her, Rafe swore he felt his heart lurch into his throat. That gut wrenching, sick feeling only proliferated when he spotted the glint of his mother’s diamond ring on the living room table. Fuck Sofia for making him feel like that. For making him feel bad. He can just imagine her now– her big puppy eyes on the other end of the phone line, watery and so god damn wounded, as if she was some tormented saint.

He hoped he’d see her at the bar. The reason? He couldn’t say. Maybe so he could see her wallow in her choice to betray him. Or maybe it was to talk– ask her why the fuck did she do that– why the fuck did she ruin it? He was doing so well, he was so good.

But of course she listened to him. Yet again. She always listened. Nodding her head like a good little girl.

Yes baby? Sure thing Rafe! Okay babe…

He remembered with a bitter, guilty twang what he said to her when he was down on one knee.

Quit your job…

And she went ahead and fucking did that didn’t she? Serves her right. Whatever money Groff and Hollis gave her must’ve been enough to tide her over. That what he told himself at least, to subdue the guilt.

Rafe sniffed a sharp inhale of air, throwing his drink back with a cold disregard. It was too bitter– the new bartender was shit. Rolling his shoulders, Rafe strained to shut off his eddying thoughts. He didn’t have time to worry about her. He had other things to deal with.

First order of business: pay Barry back for his boat.

Rafe left the country club, heading over to Barry’s place down by the docks. It was nearing sunset and by the time he reached the house, the sky was streaked with lines of orange and pink.

Barry was already sitting on the porch, smoking a blunt, lazy smirk on his face when he saw Rafe pull up in his Mercedes.

“You better be here to reimburse me for my shit bro.” Barry called out when Rafe exited the car.

“Don’t worry Barry, I get paid you get paid– just like old times amiright?”

Barry let out a low chuckle, opening the front door to let Rafe in, “except I never did get paid all that often huh?”

They ended up on the kitchen counter (much more spacious than the dingy kitchenette at the trailer park) sipping at beers Barry pulled from the refrigerator.

“So, you back for good now? No more crashin’ boats on distant shorelines typa shit anymore?”

Rafe nodded with a wry smile. ��Yeah…back for good.”

“Your girl must be happy you’re home, huh?”

Rafe’s smile faltered and brows furrowed, like two deep notches on his forehead. Barry picked up quickly on his tangential plummet into anger. Or annoyance. Rafe swung between the two quickly.

“She not your girl anymore or is she not happy you’re back?”Barry needled.

Rafe’s eyes darted downward, his nostrils flaring slightly. Barry never did know when to lay off.

“What did you do country club?”

“What?” Rafe hissed, finally snapping at his provocation, “what did I do? Why do you assume it was my fault?”

Barry was unfazed at his sudden slip into anger, like he’d seen worse. He just chucked coolly, taking another languid sip, “‘cause it usually is dawg.”

Rafe’s blue eyes burned with a flash of hot emotion. Why did everyone think everything was on him? He’d treated her so fucking well and here Barry was looking at him as if he’d thrown her out on to the street. “Yeah well it wasn’t my fault. It was hers. She fucked up. Not me.”

“What did she do? Cheat on you with that frosted tips guy? Y’know– Table topper or whatever?”

Rafe scrunched his nose at the image, “hell no. She sold me out. Fuckin’ pogue mentality isn’t it.”

He didn’t even know what he was saying at this point. He just knew that it hurt her whenever he’d say that. Pogue. Injected with such venom. She couldn’t hear him, but blaming her shut down the question that endured in his mind all across Morocco and Lisbon. That bounced around the spongy walls of his brain.

What did he do to make her betray him?

That’s the thing about saints– they never act without a just cause.

Rafe didn’t bother looking at Barry for reassurance. He could never glean that out of him. He heard his ex drug dealer scoff under his breath, the glass lip of the bottle hitting his golden tooth as he took another swig.

“Yeah well this pogue right here sold you out too– now you’re sittin’ n drinkin’ with him.”

Rafe’s nose twitched. He hadn’t made that connection in his mind.

“Yeah well I knew you were a piece of shit. She– ” Rafe had to pause, levelling his breath as his chest constricted, “she wasn’t.”

A silence settled. A nausea tossed about the pit of his stomach.

Barry intervened with a harsh slap against the counter, “okay well I know just the thing to get you out of this weird ass funk, country club.”

Rafe flickered his red rimmed eyes up to meet Barry’s. “You do? And don’t say dope.”

Barry laughed, licking his lips, “good one. Nah not this time. The only remedy for a breakup is some more pussy.”

Rafe shook his head almost immediately, “what the fuck bro?”

“Just chill a’ight? There’s this strip club that opened couple months ago the next island over– we should go. Maybe it’ll get your mind off of things.”

“What? Like right now?”

“Yeah why not? I’m down.”

Half an hour later, after Barry poured some liquor down Rafe’s throat to make him more amenable to the idea, they were driving down the OBX bypass, on route to Island Paradiso.

***

It was just meant to be a bartending stint. Just so she could get back on her feet again.

She’d tried to get her old job back at the country club, about to get on her knees and beg her manager. But it was too late.

The position had been filled…tough luck kid.

Four years she’d slaved away making margaritas and wiping down countertops, all with a pretty smile on her face, and it was gone. Just like that.

All because of Rafe Cameron.

Sofia shook away the memory of him as if it was detachable, like he was just simply velcroed to inside of her brain and all she needed to do was shake her head and tense her jaw and he would come tumbling out of her skull.

She was good at hiding from things. She was good at ignoring the glaringly obvious pitfalls of her life. But with that man, he insisted himself onto her subconscious. He was inside of her, reminding her of how stupid she’d been. She can’t even blame him– she saw this coming a mile away. She just didn’t want to believe it. So she hid like she always did, nestling comfortably in the Egyptian cotton sheets of his bed, swaddled in the cushiony notion that they loved each other and that was all that mattered.

“Sofia wake the fuck up!” A voice on her left suddenly called out.

She snapped out of her lapsing thoughts (she’d found herself floating in a dissociative haze more and more often these days) and looked down to see the drink begin to overflow onto the bar.

“Shit shit shit I’m sorry,” she began, scampering to clean up her mess.

“That’s coming out of your cut okay?”

Sofia just nodded, her stomach twisting with a sharp tug. She needed that money.

When she was with Rafe, he’d always needle her about her job.

You can always quit you know…I already pay for all your shit, you don’t need it…baby just stay at home with me, yeah…

It’s like he didn’t even consider that she was responsible for other people. The money wasn’t for her nails and hair and whatever other things Rafe ‘took care of’ for her. She had her family, her siblings, her parents. They relied on her.

It was clear to her Rafe never had anyone rely on him. She could tell by the way he acted. Even though he forced himself to be needed (throwing his money everywhere, cornering people into a pseudo dependency), Sofia could sense the childishness of his whims. It was like when she’d gotten $50 dollars for her Quinceañera and went out with her siblings and cousins to the store and made everyone buy some candy, because it was on her. Rafe forced everyone to buy candy just so he had someone to eat his with.

Sofia knew all this yet she still went ahead and quit her job, turning this pseudo dependency into a full blown reliance. And what did Rafe Cameron do as soon as there was someone who truly relied on him? He kicked her out, when she didn’t play the way he wanted to play.

But again, Sofia couldn’t blame him. It was her fault for hurting him. Her stomach writhed again at the memory of her duplicity. Worst thing was, she hadn’t even touched the 25k Hollis gave her. It just sat in the shoebox under her bed gathering dust at the heed of her guilt.

Instead she picked up a job at a club, next island over. There was nothing for her in Kildare. With all the rezoning laws and the steady trickle of Figure 8 moolah finding its way into the Cut, more businesses were shutting down, replaced with scaffolding and TO LET signs.

Thankfully a friend of hers knew of a bartending gig, less than an hours drive away down the highway.

And that’s how she ended up here. Under the neon lights of a very different type of club.

At first, that’s all it was. Make the drinks and serve the customers. But the tips were nothing compared to the country club. Why tip the bartender when you could pay for a lap dance?

And when the bills at home started piling up, her parents questioning if her manger had docked her wages (she still hadn’t told them she’d quit, let alone how she was engaged for a freak second), that’s when she’d looked over to the main stage, littered in a blanket of Benjamins and swallowed her pride.

“Sofia you’re up in a bit,” called her manager, Hayes.

She nodded with a smile, still cleaning up the sticky surface of the counter top. Hayes was a nice man– mid forties, tall and burly with long brown hair that he slicked back and a scruffy beard. He spoke with a thick, southern twang and could be found smoking a cigar in the room overlooking the club.

“Okay boss.”

Sofia headed back to where the girls were. She hadn’t made much friends. No one liked it when there was new blood– it meant there was less for them. So Sofia just stayed in her lane, not biting when they threw her a bone to chew at and eventually she became just another dancer trying to make her way.

And besides, it’s not like she was replacing them. Sofia could just about walk in her heels, and she avoided anything too risqué. She’d told Hayes about her qualms and he’d listened.

She only danced three days a week. The rest were solely bartending. She got to keep her clothes on (which wasn’t much to begin with) and she could decline the private dances if she wanted to. Hayes would always vet the guys who’d be interested in her. Sofia didn’t know if he was just humouring her, but that little thumbs up he’d do made her heart beat a bit more evenly, especially when she’d be grinding up against the patrons.

“You know what songs you’re dancing to tonight?” Sofia looked behind her in the mirror as she was applying her makeup to see one of the girls hover by her shoulder.

“I gave the DJ the list you wrote me,” she resumed her eyeliner.

She eventually made a singular friend. Her name was Mina and she was a regular. Mina was all warm skin and tough love. She was only a couple years older than Sofia, but Sofia often forgot that fact when she’d lived so much life in comparison to her. She was the one who helped her get to grips with it all: makeup, clothing, name.

“You gotta have a stripper name baby!”

She’d said, starring at a newbie Sofia, whilst taking a drag from her cigarette.

She told her to lean into being Latina– Sofia needed a niche. Something these men could remember her by. If she wasn’t going to show her tits or pussy then she needed to distract them with something else.

So Sofia settled on Mariposa…Spanish for butterfly. It was cute. Sweet. Pretty. That paired with the sultry reggaeton music Mina suggested she go with, the flashy gold jewellery and the hot pink and red sets, the cash came quick, patrons slipping bills down the waistband of her pants and dip of her bralette.

Sofia was used to the routine of things now. She felt more confident on stage. She couldn’t do any of the more skilled moves the other girls excelled at, but she could dance half decently. And besides, the money she scraped from bartending covered what she wasn’t making.

She tried not to think too hard about what she was doing. The minutes when she was on stage it felt like a pink, glitzy mist settled over her– the glitter on her eyes and the lowlights on the floor tugging her into a dissociative state. It was just her and the music. The faces in the crowd blurred and she focused on the feel of the paper tickling her skin rather than the brush of beer stained fingers. No one groped or mauled– Hayes was a scary man with a gun. Sofia sometimes saw it peek from his waistband whenever he’d stretch.

She just let her thoughts dissolve into jelly and felt herself float from her body, detached.

At least for the moment.

The guilt hit her when she’d be asleep in her bed, that ineradicable Catholic upbringing making her skin feel dirty and heart throb in her chest. That’s when she’d bring her hands together and look up to God, begging him to understand, pleading for him to see her point of view. No one else seemed to.

But right now, she focused on her reflection in the mirror, trying to ignore the dark bags under her eyes from the late hours and shoddy sleep.

Sofia reached for the concealer.

***

Rafe entered the club following Barry’s lead, the sound of bass and smell of alcohol hitting him instantly.

His eyes roamed around the room. The dull glow of pinks and purples and reds shrouding everyone’s faces in a thick shadow.

Rafe had never been to a strip club before. He’d lied about it for sure– his fraught year at college making him real good at coming up with shit. But the idea of paying to see a woman flash her tits at you was stupid to him, as if porn didn’t exist.

But maybe Barry was right. He’d held Sofia in such high regard and look where that got him. Miserable and depressed, flushing money on overpriced shots at a strip bar. He needed to distract himself– make the image of her leave his brain, because no matter how drunk or dazed he got, all he could see was her face when he closed his eyes.

“You feelin’ better yet?” Barry chucked leaning against the bar beside him. He watched as Rafe’s gaze roamed the club, straying when it reached the dancer on the stage, her body wrapped around the pole.

“No,” he grumbled, throwing back another shot, quickly growing bored.

“You don’t need to stick by me y’know? Go get a lap dance or some shit or a closer look at least.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I’m a cheap bastard who likes to watch and not tip.”

Rafe just rolled his eyes at that.

The song finished, the dancer collecting her cash before leaving. Rafe took the chance to order another round of drinks.

“And now on stage, the gorgeous Mariposa!” The low warbled announcement from the DJ was followed by another song.

Rafe took a seat beside Barry, just as his drink arrived, before turning to look on stage, maybe ten metres away from the bar.

The next dancer walked on and Rafe felt his heart drop into his stomach, his chest suddenly rising and falling as he strained to prove himself wrong against the lurid stage lights.

But the closer she got, walking down the stretching runway of a stage, it was undeniably her. Each freckle and mole and that birthmark on her lower back visible, her skin bare and lucent for everyone to see.

Shock turned to anger, like a spark to gunpowder.

He suddenly jumped out of his seat and turned towards Barry, his hands clutching at his shirt, nearly dragging him off the barstool.

“You knew– that’s why you fucking brought me here didn’t you?” He snarled, eyes dilated and mouth curled.

“What the fuck man! I don’t know what you’re sayin’” Barry pushed back, trying to make sense of Rafe’s outburst.

“Then why is she here huh? Why did you bring me here? To show me this shit? To make me look stupid?”

“Who’s here? You’re not makin’ any sense man– just calm down a’ight.” Barry took a more consoling tone, on seeing Rafe’s downturned lips, and glassy eyes. He wasn’t just angry…he was upset.

Rafe let him go, gesturing toward the stage, his head bowed fists dropped at his side.

“You’re telling me you didn’t know?” He murmured quietly, blue eyes wild and darting, looking at the shiny floors of the strip club.

It took Barry a while to recognise Sofia but when he did, he realised he’d messed up big time bringing Rafe all the way here.

“Shiiit man– I didn’t. She must be new.”

Rafe recoiled at that, his face screwing up, threatening tears. He could put two and two together and figure out what the fuck someone like her was doing in a place like this. Why she wasn’t at the country club anymore. Why he’d never seen her around on Kildare. She’d listened to him. She always fucking listened.

For the first time since Morocco, the possibility that Groff was the one who lied suddenly occurred to Rafe. If she’d gotten paid, if Sofia was actually a part of their schemes like he’d said, why was she debasing herself for money?

Rafe suddenly felt a deep and ringing shame, as if he’d just realised who she was. A pogue. No different to Barry.

And he’d just thrown her out with nothing.

No. No. She betrayed him. She hurt him. That was the truth. That’s all that mattered.

Then why did he feel like such a piece of shit?

Rafe turned around slowly to look at the stage bringing his gaze up to her.

She moved with a quiet grace, her skin glittery and bronzed. She looked like the models on the porno mags he’d secretly look at when he was a kid– shiny wet skin, scanty pieces of fabric that dug into pliant flesh, limbs that stretched and twisted. He felt his pants tighten, and stomach churn– getting hard and feeling sick.

His brows furrowed and twitched and his mouth did the same. He waited for her to take notice of him. But all her attention was on the men surrounding the stage.

Sofia dropped low on her hands and knees. She arched her back slowly and smoothly, crawling down the platform. She lingered so they could stuff her bra and underwear with dollar bills while she smiled prettily at them with thick eyelashes. Rafe simultaneously burned with a viscid desire that pooled in his stomach and a raging envy that bored a hole inside him.

He began to near the stage, but felt a hand yank at his arm.

“What are you doing bro?” Barry said, coming round so he was facing Rafe.

“Get off me,” he pushed his grip away, resolute in heading to the stage.

But Barry persisted, “what do you think you’re gonna do huh? If you mess with the girls you’re gonna get your ass beat.”

Rafe just clenched his jaw, “what? They’re not gonna let me tip her?” His voice was low and thick with a sarcastic drawl.

Barry eyed him for a moment, his hand still on his arm, “I think we should go Rafe, let me take you home.”

Rafe simply let out a short, sharp laugh, “didn’t you say get a closer look? I’m just listening to your advice Barry.”

And with that, he shoved him out the way, making a beeline to the stage.

***

When Sofia was up there she let her thoughts switch off, settling into her role. She was good at that– pretending. She would do it at her old job, acting the part of the smiley waitress or the diffident bartender. She’d mould her face into the expressions they’d want to see: chirpy grin, bright eyes, patient brows.

This was no different. It was just another role, where she moulded herself into what others wanted to see.

And right now they were all here for her tits and ass, so she sank down on her hands and knees, slinking across the dollar strewn stage, and gave them it.

Sofia tried not to look too hard at the faces. Sometimes she’d become injected with paranoia. That maybe one of dad’s work buddies would be there, or one of her old customers. And they’d see her. Desperate and lost, scraping the floors for cash.

Where was her kook boyfriend now huh? Had he grown tired of her? Serves her right for turning her back on her own people.

Just take their money and go. That’s what she told herself. She can spiral into a mess of self loathing and regret later on, when she’d paid off this month’s electric bill.

Sofia moved in time with the music, passing people with cash ready in their hands. She sank down low to receive it, before moving on to the next.

She felt the next hand before she met his gaze. The touch of a metal ring against her skin, the tickle of paper slotting into lace straps.

Sofia smiled sultrily, her lips caught between her teeth as she looked over at the next patron. She was good at maintaining her demeanour, clinging to that act she put on.

But the veneer faltered, her smile fading and eyes widening as if she was prey and she’d just been caught. In who’s cutting jaw? Rafe Cameron and his razor-sharp bite.

At first she blinked, begging for it not to be him. Maybe it was the lights. Maybe it was just somebody who looked like him. But the longer she stared, the deeper her stomach sank.

He’d just wedged a wad of cash in the waistband of her pants, his face stony and unreadable. But in the brilliance of the strip club lights, Sofia swore she saw his eyes gleam with unshed tears.

It must’ve only been a couple seconds, but it felt interminable to her– her arms wobbling with her weight as she buckled from the shock. Thankfully the song was coming to an end, so she stood up, suddenly too aware and too embarrassed to do the final flourishes of her dance. She instead just grabbed the cash on the floor and headed off stage, pulling out the dollars shoved in between her costume.

Her entire body was on fire, the room suddenly too hot and the air too thick. She needed to get out of here. She needed to breathe. She needed to calm down.

“Just gonna pretend like I don’t exist then huh?” A voice called out from behind her. Sofia’s heart grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment, her chest constricting and snarling up.

She could just carry on walking. Not look back. Ignore him. Isn’t that what he wanted? Her out of his life? They were done weren’t they? So why was he rubbing in it? Couldn’t he just leave?

She felt hot stinging tears prickle in her waterline that she willed away. She didn’t want to look even more stupid than she already did.

Sofia stopped and turned around slowly, the cash still in her hands. She faced him, struggling to keep a straight face let alone speak. Everything in her just wanted to cry. Seeing his face made it worse. He looked so damn pitying.

“Why did you do it?” He asked, voice almost strangulated. His face looked angry but his eyes betrayed him– he seemed almost ashamed. Which was funny, seeing as Sofia prickled with a similar shame.

She just shook her head, her curled hair, swept over to one side, tumbling down and curtaining her face. But Rafe didn’t accept her concession that easily.

“No– I deserve an answer. You played me didn’t you? You and Hollis and Groff?”

Sofia’s vision blurred, the tears beginning to flood and blear, “yes but I tried to take it back! I tried–You just didn’t listen.”

“Why are you here? What are you doing Sofia?” His voice broke at her name, coming out in a choked rasp. “You fuckin’ played me for money didn’t you? Then why are you out here whoring yourself out?”

His words felt like a punch to the gut, her palms slick with sweat now, sticking to the paper in her hands. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t thought herself. Whore. Slut. Skank. Was he actually looking for an answer? Or was he here to hurt her again. Just like she hurt him.

Sofia realised she’d had enough of trying to decipher Rafe Cameron.

“You got it all figured out don’t you Rafe?” She decided she didn’t want to be apologetic anymore. So she nosedived straight into angry and bitter.

He mirrored it perfectly. “Tell me then, tell me what I’m missing?”

Sofia shook her head with a bitter scoff. “Thanks for the tip,” she muttered, before turning on her heel and heading for the dressing room.

“No you can’t just do that. I deserve some explanation–“ Rafe surged forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her towards him.

His grip wasn’t rough or harsh but it was enough for Sofia to trip and stumble over her heels, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Her money slipped from her hands, littering the space around her as she winced from the pain.

That’s when the commotion started.

“Hey what the fuck do you think you’re doing bud.” Sofia heard Hayes’ voice call out. She looked up to see Rafe crouch half down, as if he was offering to help her up. She recognised his friend, Barry, behind him surveying the scene, eyeing Hayes who came storming down the club floor.

“Just go Rafe, for your own sake,” her eyes softened for a moment.

“Step back now, or I’ll fuckin’ make you.” Hayes called out, pushing past Barry.

Barry put himself between Hayes and Rafe, the latter one now crouched down beside Sofia. And all she wanted was for the floor to give way and swallow her whole.

Barry yanked Rafe up by his collar. “We were just leavin’– weren’t we?”

“I was just helping her up, chill okay?”

Sofia needed to get up off her ass and away from this situation, suddenly feeling way too exposed, the image of her half naked on the strip floor vinyl, surrounded by crumpled dollar bills and three grown men dawning on her. Her stomach rolled with heavy waves of shame that hurt.

“You okay sweetheart?” Hayes asked from above.

Sofia nodded, not making eye contact and bringing herself to her feet.

“Sofia– fuck, tell him you know me. We were just talking.”

“I don’t care buddy, you leave now or I’ll have you thrown out.” Hayes’ face was stern and scary as he met Rafe’s eye line.

Sofia shrank in on her body, trying to make herself invisible. She felt Rafe’s burning gaze on her, as if he was forcing her to look at him. Usually she’d fold, giving into his stare. But this time she persisted and left, disappearing past the doors heading to the dressing room. Let them sort it out– she didn’t need to embarrass herself anymore than she’d already done.

As soon as the double doors to swung shut, and she’d safely deposited her cash in her bag, Sofia broke down in her mess of tears and wracking sobs that had been begging to surface the moment she spotted Rafe on the club floor.

She tried to avoid her reflection in the mirror and instead sank down onto the floor, grateful for the cool feel of the plasticky tiles wash over her naked, burning skin.

***

Rafe paced the parking lot, biting at his thumb. He’d spotted Sofia’s car and now was just waiting for her to come out.

“Get in the truck Rafe, I’m not playin’ with you.” Barry said, leaning against the dashboard of his truck.

“Just go, you don’t need to wait up.”

“Don’t you think you said plenty? She got the idea.”

Rafe shook his head vigorously, his nose scrunching up. Why was Barry being so sympathetic towards her? Why was he treating Rafe as if he was some abusive piece of shit who’d treated her horribly. “What do you think I’m gonna do to her?”

Barry chucked, the sound dark and sardonic, “ain’t you jus’ gonna rub her face in it a bit more? Remind her of her fuck ups? Just leave her alone man. I think you’ve hurt her enough.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes, stopping in his tracks, “what do you know about Sofia? What do you know about us? Huh?”

“I just know what I saw back in there. You make up these big shiny promises and never make good on them– and that’s what you probably did to that girl. That’s why she’s here at some low rent strip club tryna make ends meet. So the least you can do is give her the decency of pretendin’ like you didn’t see shit.”

Rafe’s mouth twisted in a scowl. Barry was meant to be on his side.

“You’re acting as if it’s my fault she’s here. She could’ve come to me– talked to me and fixed all this shit! But nah– she decided that this was the better option instead of having a single conversation with me.” He gestured wildly at the club behind him, the neon header flickering and spluttering in the brisk night.

Barry scoffed, the usual humorous glint in his eyes snuffed out, turning them coal like and hard. “Would you have listened though, dawg?”

Rafe was silent at that unable to give him an answer.

Barry plowed on, “I think you forget not everyone’s from Figure 8. She ain’t like your country club chicks.”

Rafe laughed but the sound was hollow, “think I’ve heard this all before man. Just cause you’d do anything for money doesn’t mean every pogue on the cut will.”

Barry’s lips thinned and Rafe knew he’d taken it too far, “maybe if your head wasn’t shoved so far up your own ass you’d understand why people do what they do. You’re actin’ all high and mighty– does she know about all the shit you’ve done?”

The air between thing changed. This is the first time Barry had brought it up and Rafe felt that familiar mix of anger and nausea froth up again. Barry knew to strike where it hurt.

A small smirk played upon his friend’s lips. “God forbid she whores herself out– but you’re good to kill people huh?”

Rafe tensed his jaw, face contorting with muted rage, it took everything in him not to stride forward and wrap his hands around his throat. “Fuck you.”

“Get in the truck.”

At that moment, Barry’s gaze disappeared behind Rafe’s head, only for a second, but it was enough time for Rafe to notice and spin around.

And there she was.

Sofia was heading to her car, wrapped up in her coat, bag hoisted high on her shoulder.

“Rafe, just leave her,” Barry warned.

“I know you think I’m just some asshole, but I care about her okay? I care about you too. I’m not– I’m not just some jerk. I just want to talk to her alright?”

He waited a moment, for Barry to give some sort of flicker of approval. But his dark eyes and sharp jaw remained set in place. Rafe scoffed, shaking his head. Approval from Barry was like drawing blood from a stone. But he still always found himself clawing for it.

Rafe’s tone quickly devolved into disdain when he realised Barry was as bloodless as ever, “fine– don’t believe me.” He ground his teeth, before turning around towards Sofia.

***

Hayes let her go home early, after Mina had found her curled up in a ball in the dressing room. She’d peeled off her costume, changing into her sweats and T-shirt, before grabbing all her things and leaving.

She let herself find comfort in the soft fabric of her clothes as she left the club, cold wind sluicing her face. She didn’t have to suck in her stomach or arch her back anymore. She could just slouch and cower from the rest of the world.

“Sofia! Wait!” A voice called out from her left. She turned to see Rafe approach her, hand outstretched and face hopeful.

He’d been waiting out here all this time? Sofia prickled with unease, her body tensing up on hearing his voice.

“What do you want Rafe?” She managed to rasp out, voice sore from all the crying.

“Please just hear me out okay?”

Sofia knew she should just get in her car and begin the drive home. But there was still a part of her that resounded with a dull regret at the way things ended. If he had things to say, well then so did she.

Sofia stilled in her tracks and waited for him to catch up to her. In the distance she could see Barry watch the pair, arms folded, expression indecipherable in the dark. Sofia didn’t know why, but his quiet presence calmed her fluctuating breath. He’d always been sweet to her, even when he didn’t need to, and funnily enough, she felt safer than if he wasn’t there.

“You good? I didn’t mean to trip you up.” Rafe began, semi breathless. He gave her a once over. Sofia must’ve looked terrible. She could feel her mascara clump in her waterline– there had to be streaks of black running down her cheeks, her foundation caking up and smearing. An acrid insecurity suddenly washed over her.

“I’m fine.” Her words were meant to come out as callous. Assertive. But instead, all she managed to muster was a hoarse squeak.

“Good, good,” he ran a hand over the back of neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to speak, “was that your boss? Back in there?”

She nodded.

“He didn’t get mad at you did he?”

Sofia sniffed, nose still runny from her crying fit moments earlier, “no, Hayes is good, he takes care of us.”

That seemed to upset Rafe, Sofia noting how his eyebrows furrowed and mouth warped into a frown.

“How long have you been– uh doing this?” His hands gestured to the building behind her, the neon lights spelling out ISLAND PARADISO casting the dull building in a hellish, red glow.

Sofia could tell he was struggling to keep calm. His whole body bubbled with an effervescent energy she couldn’t pin point. Was it anger? And if he was angry was it at himself or her? Sofia would bet money the answer was her. He was never wrong in his book, she’d noticed. Nearly two years of being with him, holding him to her chest as he revealed his pain, kissing his cheeks and tasting his tears, Rafe never found fault in himself. It was always someone else who made him this way. There was always some other Big, Bad thing that had hurt him. Sofia realised she’d just become another one of those bad things.

But she kept her misgivings to herself just yet. “Coming up to a month. It started off as just bartending, but the tips were nothing compared to the country club.”

Rafe nodded, swallowing as if he was digesting this information, “the pay off from selling me out not enough was it?”

Sofia tried to withhold her wince. She knew it was coming, but still it hurt. “Rafe… it was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Sofia bit her lip, struggling to maintain eye contact. His eyes could be so intense sometimes, so cold and blue. It was too much. “I didn’t think you were serious about us. I heard what you said– that day at the club. I guess I just wanted to hurt you like you hurt me.”

She chanced a look at his face, his expression splitting into confusion, “what did I say? What are you talking about.”

“You were talking to Ruthie and Topper. You said I was just a hookup. That you wouldn’t live with me because you had standards…and I just snapped. Hollis gave me 25 thousand. I still have it– it’s yours.”

Rafe just shook his head, sifting his brain to reach for the memory. “No…no Sofia what the fuck? Why didn’t you just speak with me huh? Even when I called you asking you to explain you were quiet?” His tone was imploring as he neared her in one wide step, his body angled down so he could meet her eyes. Was he apologetic? Did he feel bad?

Sofia felt the gates of her heart open, spurred on by the possibility of his understanding. “Because I thought it was true! I wasn’t anything to you. You would just drag me around everywhere but make it seem like we were nothing serious…what you said that day was just the final nail in the coffin. Then you started talking about a future together– when you took me to see Goat Island– and I was so confused. I tried to take back what I did. I tried to fix it! But you wouldn’t listen Rafe. Then you went ahead and proposed– saying you didn’t care about what I did, that you still loved me! What was I supposed to do huh!? I was scared to say anything on that phone call, but you didn’t even give me a chance. You ended it just like that.” The tears started falling again her voice rising and falling, hurtling out of her control.

Rafe’s visage eddied between hurt and aggravation, held together with twitching features and watery irises. “That’s not fair Sofia and you know it.”

“And this is!? What more do you want from me? I’ll send the money to you tomorrow okay? You told me we were done and I listened. I’m sorry I made you loose everything but that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted you to want me Rafe, not just string me along like a person for hire.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now? Selling yourself?” Sofia could tell he knew it was a low blow from the way he waited a moment before saying it. As if considering if it was worth it. Obviously it was. He couldn’t help himself.

“Can you stop? Do you think I feel good about this? Do you think I want this?” She hated how broken she sounded, how helpless she probably looked.

Rafe suddenly switched from restrained and controlled to desperate and pleading. His hands rose up to hover over her arms, ready to hold her like he used to. Like it was second nature. Like he did that day on the shoreline overlooking Goat Island. “We can fix this. Move back in. We’ll go back to normal.”

“You’ll resent me. Look at you, you already do.”

Rafe shook his head, “I don’t resent you– I– I need to make things better baby, I can’t let you do this shit.”

Sofia blanched at the endearment, feeling her heart ache and twist almost to the point of bleeding out of her chest, “your word means nothing to me Rafe. You want me to quit this job too before you throw me out on my ass next time I make you upset again?”

His mouth screwed up, eyes narrowing in offence. He didn’t like the way she framed the truth it seemed. Sofia found a smug satisfaction at jabbing at him like that.

“Just go. I’ll figure it out. I don’t need your pity.”

“You don’t get it, do you? You hurt me too Sofia. I don’t pity you– I miss you. We can get past this.”

Sofia shook her head, the tears that had collected in her ducts overflowing onto her splotchy cheeks, “how can I believe you huh? Look where it got me last time I put my faith in you.”

Rafe just swallowed thickly, sniffing and letting his head drop. He was quiet for a while stepping back from her. Sofia watched his face shift through a whole spectrum of emotions as if he was deciding what route to take. Finally he sighed, deep and defeated and ashamed, running a coarse hand through his cropped hair.

Rafe slowly neared Sofia, bending down low and finally bridging the distance. Sofia would’ve stepped back but something about the way he looked at her, sincerity finally filling blue irises, reminded her of the day she realised she’d fallen for him. He’d been caught under the light of the North Carolinian pines, looking at her with that dopey smile. And now here he was again, not angry, not moralising, not resentful, but honest and kind. So she let him hold her arms.

“Keep the 25k. Use it. Get yourself out of this shit hole. If you change your mind you know where to find me…I’m sorry Sofia, for not being the man you deserve. I tried, I really did–” Rafe paused taking a shuddering inhale of air, “I didn’t mean for this. I was looking forward to marrying you.”

Rafe didn’t even let the words hit her before he leaned forward bundling her up in a tight hug. Sofia’s first instinct was to refute it, but when she felt his arms envelope her, his scent fill her nose, she crumbled up against the wall of his chest and sobbed quietly.

Rafe broke away first, his body lowering to meet hers. He brushed away the hair that stuck to her brine coated cheeks, blue eyes flickering all across her face, as if he was committing it to memory. “If anything happens, you can call me yeah?”

Sofia’s eyebrows softened, knowing she wouldn’t need to. But she nodded anyways, more for his sake than her own.

“Bye Rafe,” she finally mustered, voice close to a whisper, before slipping out of his hold and heading to her car.

She didn’t hear him say anything else. Not a final one up. Or a biting dig to remind her she was the one in the wrong. He just stood where he was, watching her as she drove out of the parking lot, face almost solemn as if he was grieving.

She drove away, the sound of the tyres rolling across the backroad gravel, filling the silence. The heavy feeling in her chest lingered, just like it did the day he broke things off between them.

Sofia had more than just guilt and regret to deal with tonight, the sticky tendrils of heartache already wrapping around her throat, making it hard to breathe.

***

Rafe walked back to Barry, who’d remained in the same position as he left him: slouched against the hood of his truck, arms folded across his chest.

“You ready to go now?” He asked, in a bored drawl. But if he was so bored, why didn’t he wait in the truck?

Rafe nodded, maintaining a stoic expression.

The two left the strip club parking lot completely silent, the extent of what he lost dawning on Rafe as they reached Kildare, thirty minutes later.

“What am I supposed to do Barry?” Rafe finally said, the first word spoken in the stifling truck.

“You move on.”

“But she needs my help.”

Barry let out a soft inhale of breath. Was it a scoff? Or was it a sigh? Rafe didn’t know, but when Barry finally answered, his was expression unreadable. “She doesn’t trust you anymore, man. So you either wait it out or move on.”

“I can wait.” If there was any possibility he could have her again, he’d hold on to it. Rafe Cameron was nothing if not insistent.

Barry cocked his head, “for her to trust you again?”

“Yeah– what? You think she won’t.”

“I’m surprised she ever did in the first place. I think she’s learned her lesson.”

Rafe laughed sardonically. “Like you did? You keep taking me back.”

Barry considered him for long while, glancing over at Rafe in the shadowy truck, “yeah well I’m hopin’ she makes better choices than me now.”

Rafe scrunched his nose, a heady mix of rage and shame pooling in his stomach. “Whatever. I’m trying to be better man. I love her. And I know it’s real because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. It’s different with Sofia.”

“Different how?”

“She lets me be the better version of myself. It doesn’t hurt with her.”

“Like it hurts with me?”

“No. Not you.” The answer was quick on his tongue.

Barry sighed, his hands tightening on the wheel, “y’know why I’m tellin’ you to leave her alone? It’s because you may not be hurtin’ but she is.”

“Why do you care so much?”

Barry considered his questions for moment. “She was nice to me, she didn’t have to be, but she was.”

“She’s nice to everyone.”

“So why do you think you’re special?” Barry gave him sidelong glance. He wasn’t mean or bitter or cruel. He spoke plainly, as if it was just a regular question.

Rafe was silent at it. Fuck Barry and his esoteric quips.

“She’d hurt less if she was with me. I can take care of her.”

“You can barely take care of yourself dawg.”

“Whatever Barry. As if you’re so perfect. I may not be the best person on earth but I’m not the worst either, okay? I get shit done. I take care of things. I’ll take care of her.”

“She’s not one of your things.”

“Stop fucking twisting my words.”

“I’m just sayin’ what I’m hearin’ and seein’…you clearly care for her, I’m not disputing that. I don’t know man. I just feel bad for her.”

Rafe stirred with guilt. The notion that she was in that place because of him slammed right into his chest. What would she be doing if he hadn’t fucked her at his party two summers ago? Would she be in college, like she dreamed about? Or would she have found another job somewhere on Kildare? Would she at least be happy? Rafe recalled the bubbly, bright girl, with her cute little bangs and glittering hazel eyes, who couldn’t stop smiling up at him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His heart twisted, convulsing inside his chest with a sharp potent pain.

Barry had pulled up into his driveway, stopping the car outside his house.

“So you’re gonna wait for her then?” He remarked, turning to face him, features lit up by the motion sensor lights of Rafe’s courtyard.

“Yeah. I’ll wait.”

“Well good luck country club. I’ll see you around.”

Rafe left his truck, Barry quickly reversing down the driveway, leaving Rafe standing alone outside his house.

When he’d go inside he’d be alone too. He wouldn’t stumble over her trainers in the doorway, there would be no leftovers from her dinner on stove, the hallway light wouldn’t be left on (because she didn’t want him to trip up in the dark).

And when he’d crawl into bed, the sheets would be cold. He’d reach out and graze nothing but air. And soon enough, the faint, lingering smell of her shampoo would fade from the pillows too.

Rafe didn’t believe in god, but he knew that Sofia did. He looked up at the night sky, littered with stars and puffs of grey cloud, and whispered quietly under his breath.

“Please let Sofia be okay. Please let her find her way back to me.”

It was the first time he’d prayed in a long while. The whole thing felt like such a cop out. Saying words instead of actually getting up and doing shit? But if Sofia wasn’t going to accept his help, listen to him when he finally needed her to, then this was the least he could do.

“Please make it all be okay again.”