Star-Crossed Secrets

by Kali Brixton

  Because when it all comes down to it, I was born to be a defender, a protector. And I will not stand by and watch innocence be laid to waste by the misdeeds of the guilty. Grabbing my coat, I decide against my better judgment that I need to go let off some steam. Keys in hand, I’m convinced that finding one of the street fighters to spar with tonight at Duke’s will be a better choice than what I really want to go do.

  I slam my locked door behind me and get ready to tear my way through the world when I see a reminder that the world isn’t completely lost walking toward me. A reminder with a familiar pair of hazel eyes, a floral vase in hand, and an ocean no longer separating us from each other.

  Because in the flesh before me is Papi Dean, carrying the same type of bouquet he’s gotten me the last six or seven years for my birthday, and a look in his eyes that tells me he sees the pain, but he’s here to make it better.

  He never says a word while he sets down the vase of beautiful clover, blue thistle, and white lilies. His arms open wide as I close the distance between us and let him wrap me in his love and mercy. The rage I felt merely moments ago evaporates through each tear stain I leave on his dark gray jacket, and my anxiety lessens with each sob I cry into his shoulder.

  We stand there in the hallway for a long time; him trying to ease the burdens I feel pressing down on me until I catch my breath and can see without a wall of water clouding my vision.

  Escorting me back to my apartment as I grip his beautiful birthday present tightly in my arms, Papi Dean gets us settled at my dining table after putting a kettle of water on the stove while I relay the absolute shitstorm this past week has been.

  “Without sounding like I own a leather couch and charge three-hundred dollars for an hour of my time, what’s hurting you most, sweet girl?”

  I brush away the tears and try to gain some composure. “That they feel—or will feel—like they aren’t good enough to be faithful to or to stick around for compared to the other person.”

  He sighs as he holds my hand. “Rejection’s a hard one. It’s difficult to feel of value when someone’s treated you like you don’t have any.”

  Rejection. I know it well because six years ago, I gave my heart to a boy who rejected my love. And who will reject me once and for all when he takes a wife just a few short weeks from today. For all the bluster and the ice queen bullshit, I could never fully get there with him because he’s been my undoing long before I ever crawled into bed with him. And no matter how thick the ice is, he always settles in the cracks, chipping at them, piece by piece.

  He stands and goes to the little cart I keep near my stove, grabbing two big coffee mugs and putting two packets of tea in each one before he brings them to the table.

  “I never thanked you for the gorgeous flowers,” I say as I take a moment to appreciate their beautiful color and aroma. “I love it more and more each year.”

  “Well, someone who loves you very, very much curated it,” he says with a wink.

  “So, you’re in for…” I can’t even squeeze out the words now because I’m too vulnerable and I’ll just start crying again.

  He pats my hand twice with his weathered one. “I’m in for a visit which means I’m dying to meet that beautiful little redhead you’ve been sending me pictures of.”

  I sniffle and wipe at my eyes once more. “She’s amazing. So curious about everything and loves to draw.”

  “From how I hear it, my grandson’s pretty taken with her too.”

  Willing my heart to stay down, I ask the obvious question. “Did he tell you the nickname she gave him?”

  He smiles over his mug as he picks it up to admire the pattern. “No, but he told me the nickname you gave her for him.”

  Only because he deserved it. “I may have encouraged it a bit.”

  He places the heavy vessel back on the table. “Well, I happen to know the boy doesn’t hate it as much as he lets on.”

  I bite back a smile. “Are you happy? With your life in Italy, I mean?”

  “Very, but coming here a few months ago, meeting Aliana and how life is getting ready to change again, I wonder if I might miss out on too much here.”

  “Well, when I come and visit you next summer, I may sneak you back in my carry-on and never let you leave.”

  Laughter fills the otherwise quiet space. “I don’t know if I can fit in a carry-on, sweet girl, but I’d be happy to sit in the seat next to you.”

  The kettle goes crazy, so I move to get up, only to have him signal to stay seated. “I’m going to hold you to that. And if I tell Lia, you know she will too.”

  “I won’t hold out for anything less. So…” He walks back with my whistling tea kettle and pours the fiery liquid over our tea bags. The kettle finds a new home on the trivet he brought over with it as he settles in and gives me the floor. “Tell me what happened.”

  He listens attentively as I go through the whole spiel about Kieran’s words to Luca, the strange behavior over the last nine to ten months because of “work”, and how the video I shot was completely by accident because I used my camera for the zoom feature, but ended up hitting the video button when I saw that it was indeed my father and was gripping my phone screen too tightly. I even showed him the video, which he watched twice. His first time through, it was shock that registered mostly, but the second time through, it was something like scrutiny.

  “I still don’t know how to tell Mom.”

  His thumbs run over the edge of his cup. “Do you think your mother suspects anything?”

  “She’s acted so weird about Dad lately—the random phone calls, the disappearances at odd times… Every time I ask her about it, she sort of brushes it off, like it’s just him doing his job.”

  “What made you go by the motel that day?”

  I explain about the keycard that dropped from his jacket and how Mom had been acting squirrelly.

  He’s quiet for a moment as he takes a few sips. “Let me ask you something… In all the time you’ve known your father, would you say he’s been a very consistent person throughout your life?”

  “Yes.” Because he has. He and Papi Dean were always the two men I held up as what any man should strive to be like, but Saturday’s events destroyed that notion with one of them.

  “Can you trust an old man’s word when I say everything will work out fine?”

  My head grows heavy and hangs. “I want to.”

  “Have I ever lied to you before?” I shake my head. “Then, I want you to trust me on this and don’t tell your mother.”

  What? “But she needs to know.”

  He smacks his lips together. “Sometimes, people omit certain truths about themselves to keep their loved ones safe or to protect them from something that can’t be explained at the time.”

  The time at The Devil’s Playground rings a bell, as does my long tenure at RISE. I’ve kept many secrets over the years, some of which have made life miserable or difficult, but were often necessary. So I can understand on some level what he’s getting at—the old adage of things appearing one way when they’re really another. “How long?”

  “Wait until your brother returns, then go together and talk to your father. Let him give you his side, then make your judgment call. Our eyes can deceive us sometimes when our hearts are trying to scream out the truth we already know. Can you promise to do that for you and me?”

  I nod in agreement as he pats my hand.

  “Good. Now, let’s talk about something that will bring us both joy, like when I get to meet that beautiful little girl of yours.”

  32

  Luca

  When Papi Dean came back to the apartment after going to see Ev a few days ago, I asked him if she was okay. The only answer he would give is She will be. It wasn’t the answer I wanted or had waited up for, but I took it.

  I was glad that Papi Dean’s visit seems to have lifted her spirits somewhat. After seeing what Saturday did to her, I want to rip Rian’s heart out and watch it slowly stop beating
for causing her so much pain. But a very sobering thought gave me pause…

  How much did I make her cry when I broke her heart?

  To know I may have caused her pain anywhere near what I saw over a week ago now makes me want to kick my own ass right along with his.

  I was almost finished with the day’s work, trying to think of a way to address Gia again because our wedding’s less than two weeks away. Considering Antonio hasn’t put a hit out on me—that I know of, at least—I don’t think she mentioned our brief discussion to him. Otherwise, I would probably have been addressed by my father or felt the wrath of a scorned Cervelli. DA Redmond wasn’t too pleased with what I told her a couple of days after my epic failure, but I can only control so much in the world, and Gia Cervelli’s mind isn’t one of those things.

  There’s a lot at stake, but I’m going to trust Papi Dean’s words that everything will work out and try one more time. As long as there are no more wrenches thrown into the plan, maybe they’ll come to fruition and save us both from a lackluster existence.

  One of the senior partners, Nadine, comes strolling into my office after a sharp knock with a small stack of paper. “Luca, didn’t you say that you’re working on Everleigh Greene’s adoption case?”

  “Yeah.” With her principal’s last letter of recommendation and the tax information, we can complete a few things and get her and Rory on their way to becoming parent and child.

  She waves the white pieces of paper around before setting them down on the edge of my desk. “Her accountant faxed these over and they got mixed in with my files. I just noticed them yesterday evening, but you were already gone. “

  Looking at the clock on my wall, it’s almost quitting time, so I’ll read through them tomorrow when I’m fresh. “Thanks, Nadine.”

  She offers me a curt nod and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. I set the papers aside and get back to work on the task before me, even though I’m a bit curious to see how Everleigh affords the apartment she lives in and the new Durango Hellcat she purchased to haul Rory around in.

  I type a bit more on my current file, not at all thinking about the things she’s acquired that one earning a teacher’s salary can, in no way, afford or what business her friend owns that she’s an investor in, or who the friend is…

  After trying to write the same sentence four times and realizing a mere peek would satisfy my rapidly growing curiosity. It’s not like she is dealing drugs or working as a high-priced call girl. Ev would definitely be the type who would invest in something sensible and long-term—nothing high-risk.

  I move the fax cover aside and start sifting through the information, only to have my eyes bug out of my head. Staring at a number that is boggling my mind right now, I gasp—fucking gasp—at what I see.

  How the fuck did Ev make this kind of money last year?

  Sifting through the paperwork, I see the same humdrum details that you’d see on a hundred of these forms. All except one word grabs my attention.

  RISE.

  I have to read that same line ten times because it’s just not sinking in. Ev’s one of the owners of RISE, the gentlemen’s club that Lia also co-owns?

  Questions fly at me from left to right…

  How the hell did they get the startup money? How long have the two of them been owners? Does her principal know? Shit. What’s this going to do to her adoption chances? This isn't the kind of investment that Jarrett and I were expecting her to disclose through her accountant.

  Wait, Ev doesn’t work there, does she? Is she a dancer too?

  That last one makes me incensed because the thought of other men watching Everleigh glide on a stripper pole, then jerking off to the thoughts of her nearly naked body—or completely naked body...

  The same naked body images that have kept me company on many lonely nights in Italy and back here and now make me want to murder someone.

  She’s mine, dammit. MINE.

  I was her first.

  I know her inside out.

  But how many came after you?

  A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. How many men have been on the same bed I laid her down on the night of Aliana’s baptism? Do they know all the places on her curvy body that make her scream? Make her sigh? How many names have fallen off her lips as she comes on another man’s dick? Did she enjoy herself?

  How many of them did she love?

  My hand clutches my chest.

  I can’t breathe.

  I’ve gotta get the hell out of here.

  Gathering my things, I bolt out of the office, not even sparing poor Patty a wave because there’s someone I’ve got to talk to, and fast. Tapping out a few quick messages before putting my car in drive and peeling out like a bat out of Hell, I reach out to the one person who will hopefully have some answers for me.

  Me: I need to talk to you.

  Lia: Working tonight, but free tomorrow!

  Me: It’s about RISE.

  Lia: Just come there this evening and I can squeeze you in :)

  The Atlanta traffic is at its typical rush-hour level of awful, slowing down my progress. Weaving through the traffic as best that I can, I remember that Papi Dean and I were supposed to go catch a movie tonight, but I’m going to have to call in a rain check on that one.

  I’ve got to get some answers. Right fucking now.

  Everleigh

  “You sure about this?” Lia asks for the third time since I spoke with her and the girls last night about stepping back from being a permanent fixture to more of a silent partner. She’s going to the VIP area to catch the show, as are Eden and Addy once they finish up in the office.

  The day has finally come to move on from RISE.

  “I’m absolutely sure, Lia.” I’m thankful for the positive experiences I’ve had and the lessons I’ve learned throughout my time here, but with my steps toward becoming a single parent bringing me closer to the day I’ll officially call Rory mine, there’s no sense in me paying someone to watch her in my precious few free hours after my day job is done when I can watch her grow up myself. A drab sense of normalcy to some that has me more excited than I’ve been in years. With my teacher’s salary plus all the money I’ve been able to sock away from my earnings over the years as an owner here, I’ll eventually have to find a more affordable place to live but can comfortably live on what I have right now.

  I’ll gladly trade in my sparkly bustiers for pretty princess dresses and tea parties any day. I’ll still be around to help train the new girls on how to weaponize their fears and turn them into something greater. To think, when I wake up in the morning, I’m going to be able to go to a job I love more than anything, have time to be with my daughter and her grandmother while she’s with us, and still contribute meaningfully to RISE.

  A smile splits my face in half, the first one I’ve had since I talked to Papi Dean. This is what I’ve been missing.

  Hope.

  Real, slaps-a-goofy-grin-on-your-face hope.

  I haven’t felt this amazing in a long time. Secrets beget more secrets, but now, I’m finally going to be able to only have one life to keep up with now. No more being creative with my answers or living two identities.

  The cage has been opened and I’m being set free.

  But that all starts after my final performance as Madam Isis.

  And I’ve saved the best for last.

  Luca

  I stopped by my apartment to change into something a little more discreet and told Papi Dean we’d go to the movies tomorrow. I barely got out of there without having to scarf down another bowl of the dinner that he made for us. My black t-shirt and dark denim would help me to blend into the background a little better since most of the dancers flock to the men in the expensive suits and fat money clips.

  I need answers, not girls looking for their sugar daddy for the night. God, especially that persistent one in the light purple wig if she’s still there. Kieran’s obsession with Asrai, a girl who dances there, meant I was dra
gged along for moral support a few more times, but I haven’t darkened the door since he went undercover.

  The night after my engagement became official, Kieran received an invitation to come and bring some friends. I’m glad he and the guys we hang out with sometimes enjoyed themselves because I somehow got drunk off my ass. Apparently, one of the dancers helped me get back to a state of some normalcy, but I never caught her name to thank her. The bartender swore up and down the following day, that I’d only had a little more than a glass of whiskey, and yet I ended up sick as a damn dog. And to think, Ev has been working there somewhere this whole damn time, under a wig and a mask, layers of makeup, and a veil of secrecy. Did she see me there? Or does she stay mostly in the private rooms you can go occupy with one of the girls for a private dance?

  My grip on my car steering wheel is punishing at the thought of her performing privately for one of those unworthy fuckers. Her gorgeous curves in the hands of someone that isn’t me pricks at my heart.

  Arriving at the door, I nod at one of the security guards, the guy who helped me back out to the floor to find Kieran after my unpleasant experience here. “Can you tell me where Li—“ What the fuck was her stage name again? Oh, yeah… “Madam Siren is?”

  He instructs me to take a seat in the enormous room where the stage is while he goes and finds her. Settling into a booth beside two older gentlemen, who were fixtures here when Kieran and I used to come, sitting at a table to my right.

  Dancers filter in and out around me as I wait for Lia, which gets me curious as to what kind of outfit Ev typically wears. There’s a girl in a golden wig with blazing eyes that passes by as well as one in a red wig trailing slightly behind her. And no sight of the damn blue one my sister wears. So many colors, so many unique outfits mill about to the surrounding customers—all of them special to the girls wearing them.