Copyright © 2020 by Katana Collins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Shanoff Designs
Cover Photography by: Annie Ray at Passion Pages
Cover Model: Tucci
Edited by: Erin Marenghi
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Also by Katana Collins
Beefcakes, Chapter One
Want More Maple Grove???
About Katana
Chapter 1
Reid
Noah Tripp, best friend and terrible influence, dragged me into the dark club, where jazz music crooned around us in a low but pulsing beat that I could feel in the depths of my soul. A few of our other friends followed closely behind, but since Noah planned the night and I was the man of the evening, we were leading the way…even though I didn’t have a clue where the hell we were or what we were doing.
It wasn’t often I found myself south of Houston Street in my amazing city of New York. There were only two reasons I knew of for coming all the way down here—shopping and dim sum. But based on this club, with its red velvet curtains and patronage of scantily clad women and men dressed in leather, I didn’t think we were out for soup dumplings tonight.
We walked up to the ticketing area, and Noah wrapped his arm around my neck. “Hey,” he said, smiling at the woman seated on the other side of the table.
“Name?” she asked, completely disinterested in the fact that she had a group of very well-known celebrities standing in front of her. Two from the hit teen vampire show and one Tony Award-winning actor from the Broadway musical I most recently directed. They were all highly recognizable. Me on the other hand? Not so much. Directors didn’t take a bow at the end of each performance. Our faces weren’t plastered all over posters and commercials—especially live theater directors. Not that I wanted it any other way. I got the best of both worlds—rubbing elbows with A-list celebrities at red-carpet events while still being able to go grocery shopping in peace. I couldn’t say the same for poor Noah.
“Noah Tripp,” he answered, biting his bottom lip and leaning an elbow on her table. “I called to reserve a front table earlier today.” He had a smooth way with women… Hell, not just women. Everyone. That boy could talk his way out of a speeding ticket if he was going eighty miles per hour in a school zone while getting a blow job.
“Oh, right. Yes, of course.” The girl’s disinterest immediately morphed into what could only be described as pure lust. The switch was so drastic, so abrupt, that she must have known who Noah was and been a fan. “Right this way,” she said, crossing from around the table and leading us through a sea of people sitting and watching the stage.
An almost naked woman with tassels hanging from her nipples danced and writhed, making the tassels helicopter from her jiggling breasts. “The night before my school’s integrity clause begins, and you thought a titty bar was the proper place to take me?” I said, leaning into Noah.
James leaned forward, gesturing to the stage. “What better place to say goodbye to the dark side for a semester?”
Noah rolled his eyes and, placing his hand on James’s forehead, shoved him back into his seat. “First of all, this is a burlesque show, not a titty bar. Big difference.”
My brows creased as I sat back and folded my arms. “How’s that?”
Noah gestured to the stage. “Burlesque is an art. They make their own costumes, choreograph their dances, have nom de plumes—”
“Pretty sure you just described strippers too.”
Noah smiled, shaking his head. “You’ll see. Just watch.”
A server came over, wearing what looked like a mash-up of a roaring 1920s flapper dress and something goth you’d find at Hot Topic, to take our drink orders as the tassel chick on stage finished up swirling her boobs around. “I’m gonna need a vodka soda,” I said. “Make it a double, since they’re paying tonight.”
Noah winked at me. “That’s the spirit.”
“The only spirit I’ll have is in a tall glass on the rocks. Once midnight hits, the semester has officially begun, and I need to get out of here like Cinderella at the ball.”
“Oh, come on,” James said. “They’re not that strict, are they?”
I lifted my brow, pausing for effect. “It’s academia. A private university. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re very serious.”
Noah sighed, “I know you said no strippers…”
“And yet here we are,” I grumbled. I hated that I was in my early thirties, wildly successful, and still no one took what I said seriously. Unless I was directing them on stage… then I was fucking Yoda to them. Otherwise, it was like I was invisible.
“But,” Noah continued, “I think you’ll really appreciate this if you open your mind. Some of these girls are really talented. Like…maybe even good enough to be dancers in your next show.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. If there was one thing New York City wasn’t hurting for, it was more undiscovered talent. The city was crawling with it. Like cabs. All you needed to do was stick out a hand, and twenty aspiring actors would flock to you.
And yes, maybe I was a little jaded—but, frankly, I was tired of being the one in charge of finding that talent.
The waitress dropped off a tray of drinks to our table, and I wrapped my hand around the already sweating glass, catching the ice-cold droplets of water against my knuckles. Noah narrowed his eyes at me. “Dude, why did you take this interim teaching job if you’re not interested in scouting the talent of new students?” he asked, practically reading my thoughts.
I lifted my glass to my lips and drained half of it far faster than I intended. I could lie. I should lie. But Noah would see right through that. Even though he was ten years my junior, he was an intuitive little fucker. “Because Faith booked a national tour, and in order to take the gig, she needed to find a sub to teach her class this semester. Either I fill in for her or she won’t have a teaching job when she returns.”
James and Simon groaned, and Noah’s mouth went slack, staring at me agape. “Faith, your ex-fiancé? As in, the ex who cheated on you with your best friend, who also happened to be the star of the show you were directing them both in, and then married him instead of you? That Faith?”
I winced but nodded as the table grew silent. “Did I not mention that before?”
Simon leaned into Noah. “You owe me fifty bucks.”
“Yep,” he said to Simon but didn’t stop glaring at me. “I sure do. Because I said there was no way in hell our friend was that dumb after all these years. I said there had to be another reason why our Tony Award-winning director friend would be taking a short hiatus from directing to teach a semester of acting for a bunch of grad students.”
I stared into my glass, unable to meet his eyes. “They’re undergrads, actually.”
Noah threw his hands in the a
ir, letting them fall onto the table, rattling the various glasses. “Even worse.”
I looked up at Noah and narrowed my gaze. “How is that worse?”
“I don’t know. But it’s not better.”
“If I recall,” I said, regarding him quietly but firmly, “you didn’t go to college at all, right? And yet here you are, making a career for yourself. I had no idea you would be such an academia snob.”
“You’re right. And I remember you drunkenly scoffing when Faith and Brandon started teaching. Making some arrogant speech about ‘those who can’t do, teach’ or some shit like that.”
I cringed, remembering that night. It wasn’t long after Faith and Brandon had gotten married, and I wasn’t in a good place. Hell, I wasn’t sure I was in a good place now either. But I was certainly better than before. “Yeah. I was just jealous that they were fucking happy and I was miserable.”
“And drunk,” Noah added.
I hissed through my teeth. “Thanks for the reminder.” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. “I believe in the power of education. By whatever means possible. Whether that’s undergrad, grad school, or even continuing studies courses.” Not all of us were so lucky to come from affluence. Not all talented kids had the resources to get grants and scholarships and, hell, even afford to come to New York for a weekend to audition for these schools. Sometimes it didn’t make sense to go into six-figure debt for a degree. Other times, it did make sense. There was nothing wrong with either path.
“I believe in education too. But you’re not teaching these kids because you want to. You’re doing it for your ex-fiancé, who fucked you over. How in the hell are you going to move on from her when you’re constantly still at her beck and call?”
I swallowed another gulp of my drink and slammed the glass down onto the table. “She’s still my friend.”
“Bullshit. She’s only your friend when she needs something.”
I could feel my ears get hot. Mostly because I knew he was right. Faith and Brandon fucked me over. And yet, when she called asking for favors, I couldn’t help but come running. I cared for her. I wanted her to be okay. And these favors were the only way to remain in her life. The second I stopped offering her something, I feared she’d be gone from my life forever, and I wasn’t sure I could handle that. “Look, kid, you’re my friend and I care about you, but back off. Maybe when you’ve been in love, you’ll understand that it’s not always that easy to just cut someone out of your life.”
“Bullshit. You’re a doormat for her, and she knows it and uses it every chance she can. Why couldn’t her husband teach in her place?”
“He’s on the tour too,” I mumbled. “It’s the first acting gig they’ve each gotten since our show closed a couple of years ago.”
Once again, the table grew silent, and the night that was meant to be celebratory soured, turning dark and gloomy. After a few minutes, I heard Noah sigh. “Okay, well, tonight is the start of something new, right?”
I hissed a breath and gestured to the waitress for another drink, rattling the ice against the edges of my glass. “Sure.”
“I mean it, Reid,” Noah said. “Tonight, you begin to move on from Faith. This is the last favor you do for her. Open your mind to maybe, maybe, dating someone else.”
Noah was right. I needed to let go of Faith. She fucking married my best friend. I was like a stray dog getting fed table scraps. It was better than nothing, so I kept coming back for more, despite the fact that I was still simply eating garbage. The more I clung to their friendships, the more I basked in the pain, unable to move on. Because I didn’t want to move on. I wanted to remain there with the pain and the sorrow… Because at least there, I still had her. Scraps of her, yeah. And I still had him—the man who was once my best friend. It was better than accepting the truth of losing them both entirely. I wasn’t sure which loss hurt more. The betrayal of my best friend of over a decade. Or the woman who was preparing to make vows to be my wife.
I squeezed my eyes shut and heard the waitress set another glass down in front of me. “Yeah,” I said, opening my eyes. “You’re right. It’s time to move on. This teaching gig is the last favor for Faith—”
“Or Brandon,” Noah interjected.
I swallowed, my throat dry, despite the drink I’d just finished. “Ever.”
Noah, Simon, and James all stared at me, shocked, eyes wide. Finally, James said, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A puff of air escaped from Noah’s pursed lips, and he lifted his glass in the air, the rest of us following, touching the edges together. “Well, fucking finally.”
I held his eye contact with a single nod. “To new beginnings.”
It had been three hours, and although I could see what Noah had meant—this wasn’t just a titty bar—I also didn’t necessarily see the “art form” he kept referencing. Most of the acts were some rendition of jazz dance routines with simple moves, very little technique, and a lot of skin. Not all that different from some stripper acts I’d seen. Only sans the pole and pussy.
I took a final swallow of what was left of my vodka soda—how many did that make? I’d lost count. Then, sliding my chair back, I moved to stand. “Well, boys, it’s been fun. But I’m about to turn into a pumpkin if I don’t get out of here soon.” From what I’d heard, universities meant business with their integrity clauses. While I didn’t necessarily care about this new teaching job all that much—and yes, it was my last favor for Faith—I didn’t want her to lose her job because of me. Frankly, I prided myself on being the guy who just does the right thing, on being on the right side of history. I wouldn’t want it getting out that I was out at a nudie bar the night before my first teaching gig. Even if that fact was misrepresented.
“Oh, come on,” Noah said. “It’s not even midnight yet.”
The emcee came out to center stage with microphone in hand and pointed directly at me. “Sir, you’re going to want to sit down for this one,” he said, a smile tilting the corners of his mouth. “Trust me.”
I don’t know what it was about the way he said that—or whether it was just because I got singled out by the announcer of the show—but it was almost like getting called to the principal’s office.
He held my gaze until I slowly lowered back into my seat, looking at my buddies. “One more number won’t hurt, I guess,” I whispered.
Seemingly satisfied that I was staying, the emcee looked up and out at the rest of the audience, announcing, “Up next, we have the one…the only…Hazel Moon!”
The slow piano treble notes hit my ears first. I recognized Nina Simone’s “I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl” filling the space, and one slender, muscled leg slid out from behind the red velvet curtain.
With the other acts, there was a constant buzz in the crowd—cheers, whistles and catcalls. But now? The audience seemed mesmerized, and as Hazel Moon swayed her body onto center stage, it was silent. Her hips churned hypnotically, circling to the beat. Her eyes swept the crowd, a mischievous smile tilting her mouth. Her dark hair, styled in retro curls, fell in her face and she nibbled on the bottom of her scarlet-stained lip. I watched her make eye contact, one by one, with random people in the audience, but when her eyes met mine, everyone else faded away. There was no one else in the room but the two of us, and she was dancing just for me. She paused, her hip pulses breaking for a fraction of a second. Did she feel it too? Or was this what she did? Was this her magic sorcery that made every man in the audience feel special when she laid her eyes on them?
I blinked, looking down at my glass, and when I brought my gaze back to the stage, she had moved on. Shimmying, she lifted her leg over her head in a high kick that rivaled the Rockettes. This girl was a trained dancer. I could see it in the turnout of her hips, the way she pointed her toe and squared her shoulders, the position of her gloved fingertips.
But what gave me the most pause wasn’t her dance training or her striking beauty. It was her costume. Unlike the other women who came
out in sexy lingerie and feather boas, she was scantily clad in a Willy Wonka-esque costume, fully equipped with the cane, top hat, and deep purple tuxedo jacket. Beneath that, she wore what looked like a bedazzled yellow and purple bra and some sort of jeweled panty with a short skirt and hosiery. And, of course…those long, purple gloves.
And thus, her striptease began as she slithered out of the tuxedo jacket, bending backwards and allowing it to slip off her slender shoulders to the floor before kicking it away. Next, starting with her pinky, she peeled the glove off her fingers, slowly trailing it over her skin down past her elbow and wrist. As Nina Simone crooned about sugar, she revealed a chocolate truffle in the palm of her hand.
The audience went wild. Where they were once silent, now they were screaming and whistling. She bit her bottom lip, looking out to her admirers, and devoured the chocolate, slowly licking her fingers and giggling as the cheering grew louder. Unlike the other dancers, it seemed like she got pleasure out of her act, too. Not just the audience.
She peeled off her other glove and, lo and behold, there was another chocolate, which she ate quickly. This time, she revealed the melted chocolate on her fingers to the audience, then slowly spread it down between her cleavage, rolling her neck back.
Drifting her arms into the air, she glided into an elegant split that, even in her hosiery and small skirt, left little to the imagination. Flawlessly, she spun her legs on the floor and lifted back onto her feet, coming down the stairs into the audience, her eyes now locked on me. She swept past Noah, Simon, and James and paused in front of me, jutting her hip out as an offering. I lifted my brows, crossing my arms, the smirk on my face growing wider.
Directing You Page 1
