Hell on Heels

by Anne Jolin

  We drove for a short period of time through the city lights, and I told him about our plans for VanDusen and what his money would allow us to do where the charity was concerned. He seemed to delight in the way I spoke, accepting and encouraging each new sentence I brought to the conversation, and he never tired of asking me what I thought.

  “What made you want to run for mayor?” It was likely a question he’d been asked many times before, but I genuinely didn’t know and was very curious.

  Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, he turned somewhat to face me. “I was born privileged.” This, I did know, but waited for him to continue. “I don’t wear that as a burden, like some people I grew up with chose to, but instead I thought of it like a blessing. How many other people could say they were born into a family with the resources to make a difference at their fingertips?”

  “Not many,” I imagined, but also said out loud.

  “There’s really no profound reason why I do what I do, other than I wanted to use my wealth and privilege to make a difference.” My hand reached out to trace his jawline while he spoke. “That’s the only way I could justify the life I was blessed with, was if it meant something more than just fancy schools and big parties.” He chuckled. “Though, I still have those too.”

  “You’re a good person,” I told him, and I meant it.

  He could have done anything or been anything, and what he wanted was to influence other people’s lives for the better.

  He wanted to support charities like Henry’s, and he cared that they’d succeed.

  Bending forward, he kissed my shoulder again. “I try to be.”

  He was wholeheartedly content with my being there, and I was too.

  It was nice.

  There was no drama with Beau.

  It was just easy.

  Seconds later, the town car pulled up to the front of The Queen Elizabeth Theatre and I gasped, “No,” looking from his face, out the window, and back again.

  His hand squeezed mine. “Leighton said at the gala that this was one of your favourite movies.”

  My eyes got big and I nodded. “It is!” I beamed.

  Beau helped me from the car and my eyes drifted over the posters announcing the show for this evening: Dirty Dancing: The Classic Story on Stage.

  I was ecstatic. I’d heard it was coming to town, but Leighton and I hadn’t been able to get tickets before they sold out.

  He exchanged words with the driver, who nodded, while I stood in awe.

  “Ladies first,” Beau said, holding the door for me.

  We walked through the now empty lobby and I crossed my fingers that it hadn’t already begun. Though, I did briefly notice no one asked for our tickets as we entered.

  I stopped at the small shop and Beau bought me a magnet for my fridge. “I collect them,” I told him. “From anywhere new I’ve been. It’s tradition.”

  “To the first of many new experiences.” He winked at me when he handed the little plastic bag to me.

  After that, we took a private elevator up one level and stepped out onto a floor of private boxes. It was swanky, and also very, very empty, due to our apparent tardiness. Though Beau was right; it had been worth every second.

  The lights went down and he held my hand still as he led us to the first box closest to the stage. I’d only ever been in a box for a hockey game or a concert, nothing like this. This was wide and elegant with luxurious seats.

  He waved to the other couple in our both. I didn’t recognize them, but smiled anyway.

  I was practically bubbling with excitement.

  An usher took our coats as we settled into our seats, the spotlight appearing on the curtains to indicate the show had begun.

  “I’m excited,” I whispered.

  He placed our joined hands in his lap and smiled. “Me too.”

  The show started, and immediately I was enthralled. It was like the movie had come to life in front of me, and I couldn’t quit the smile on my face if I’d wanted too. The voice of Johnny even sounded nearly identical to that of Patrick Swayze. The women in the audience had swooned on cue with his appearance on stage. Then both men and women had gasped when the dancer nearly dropped Penny in their opening number. He recovered quickly, but my heart was still beating wildly at the anticipation.

  Eventually, the lights came up and intermission was announced.

  I leaned over and whispered in Beau’s ear that I had to make a trip to the ladies’ room.

  “Do you need me to come with you?” he asked, and squeezed my hand.

  I shook my head. “No, stay. I’ll be right back.”

  Sliding from our viewing box, I followed the signs in the hall for the bathroom.

  It took a minute, but eventually I found it, but even more so, I was surprised to have found it not in use by any other patrons. I supposed being on the floor of private boxes had its perks.

  Turning the lock on the stall door, I tugged at the hem of my sheath dress until the stubborn and overpriced fabric stretched itself to the max over my round ass and piled around my waist.

  God, I had to pee.

  I hooked my fingers into the sides of the lace thong that had been driving me crazy and I shimmied it down my thighs. Finally, and I’ll admit eagerly, I began to squat onto the toilet seat, but startled almost instantly after the feeling of eagerness swept over me.

  The heavy wood door to the theatre’s bathroom slammed against the tile wall with a thud.

  I winced at the callous nature of the sound and my eyebrows shot up to my forehead in surprise. Like everything in life, someone always wanted it more, or in this case, I guess there was always someone who had to pee more than you did. The one woman with whom had likely had one mimosa too many and could barely walk in her shoes. But when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go, and I of all people could understand and sympathize with that in that moment.

  Poor girl.

  Resting my elbows on my knees, I’d come close to approaching that blissful state where you know you finally get to pee after you’ve been holding it for some time, and it was going to be really, really amazing.

  That fell short.

  My bliss was interrupted when the door to my stall was, for all intents and purposes, ripped off its hinges.

  “What the… What are you…?” I screamed, my legs slamming together.

  Then my brain shorted out.

  It abandoned me.

  There wasn’t even enough comprehension of the situation for my anger to flare up at the sight of the person it seemed to relish in.

  I was stunned.

  For now, crowding the made-for-singular-capacity women’s bathroom stall, with my bare ass still kissing the porcelain and my panties around my ankles, was Maverick good-for-nothing-pissed-me-off-royally-but-was-a-really-good-kisser Hart.

  What in the ever-loving fuck?

  “We have to go now,” he growled, and I could do nothing but balk at him.

  He didn’t even notice.

  “The hell we are.” I gaped at him, but no further explanation fell from his full lips.

  It was like he was looking through me.

  No wit.

  No pigheaded slurs.

  Nothing.

  It was possible if I’d been less concerned about the fact that my underwear was down my legs and that I was still sitting on a toilet, I’d have noticed that maybe he looked worried.

  Wordlessly, he slipped his hands under my armpits and hauled me to my feet. It was somewhat of a miracle I didn’t pee myself from the roughness and surprise of that alone.

  “Don’t manhandle me,” I screeched like a poorly behaved adolescent.

  He shook his head and took his hands off me.

  “What are you even doing here?” I shouted.

  He ignored me.

  “I have to pee.” I made my eyes wide and waited for him to leave, but he didn’t. “Badly,” I added for empathies, but still, nothing.

  He averted his eyes to above my head. �
�No time.”

  Was he trying not to look at my cooch?

  Not possible.

  Maverick Hart didn’t have a respectful bone in his body.

  “Get fucking dressed, Princess. Now.”

  There he was.

  I stared at him for a nanosecond, considering just how low I’d be on the woman scale if I punched him in the gut while I was naked from the hips down. Eventually, I bent at the waist and secured my thong and dress to their rightful positions.

  “Dressed,” I hissed, and shoved past him.

  He grabbed me by my upper arm and slammed my back against the bathroom wall. “Keep your attitude in check,” he barked, and I snarled at him. “I don’t have time for your bullsh—”

  His sentence was interrupted by the sound of a two-way radio I hadn’t noticed clipped to his belt. “We have the Goose sequestered, please advise. Over,” a male voice said into the, I now noticed was empty, bathroom.

  Grabbing at the device with his free hand, he pressed a button on the side. “Evacuate Goose. Over.”

  He said it in the same short and clipped tone the other man had used.

  The other male voice came through almost immediately. “Negative. Goose won’t evacuate without the bird. Over.”

  “Fuck.” His black eyes bore through me. “Shots were fired on this block,” he explained, and my eyes went wide while my temper thinned into the air around us. “We need to evacuate Beau to a safe location as part of his security, and he won’t leave without you. So, we have to go.”

  I nodded but stood still.

  “Now!” he yelled.

  I jumped.

  He pressed the button again. “En-route with the bird. Over.”

  “Ten-four,” the voice said back.

  Maverick didn’t waste any time. He put his hand on the small of my back like he had the night of the gala and moved us expertly through the theatre.

  Down two floors and left into a service hallway, I could barely feel him breathe.

  He was steady, and I was scared.

  I leaned into his hand.

  We hit the end of the hall and pushed into what looked like the back of the theatre, when Beau and another guy—the one I recognized from Maverick’s office and the gala—came into view.

  “There you are. Are you okay?” Beau ran towards us. “Is she hurt?” His eyes travelled over my head to Maverick, just as I felt his hand slip away from the small of my back.

  “She’s fine,” he clipped.

  Beau cupped my face, worry in his blue eyes. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  “It’s fine,” I assured him. “I’m fine.” And I was.

  He lifted his chin and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I was worried about you.”

  I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my upper body into his chest.

  “I have to pee.”

  Yes, that’s what I said.

  I’d developed a bad habit over the years of handling stress inappropriately.

  I laughed at funerals.

  Thus, in that moment, all I could manage to think of was that I still had to pee.

  Beau’s comforting chuckle warmed the room, and I smiled into his suit, soaking it up.

  There was nothing uncomfortable about being around Beau.

  It was easy.

  He was an easy man to like.

  “The car is waiting,” the other man said to Maverick from across the room.

  It was only then I became aware of the crackle in the air behind me. The emotions of the men in the room were duelling for control, and the pulse off of Maverick was hard to ignore. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t remembered seeing either Maverick or this other man at all since we arrived. I imagined it was their job to fly under the radar, but it was also somewhat frightening that you could not know they were there at all.

  “Of course.” Beau shrugged out of his suit coat and held it out to me. “Your coat is still with the usher. I’ll send someone for it tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  I turned and was awarded a scowl from Maverick as I slid my arms into each sleeve and Beau slid his coat onto my shoulders.

  Maverick’s black eyes were at a full rage, completely magnetic, and suddenly I was the iron.

  Maverick had not been easy once in the three times I’d met him.

  Well, the three times I was aware of, anyway.

  “Shall we?” Beau took my hand in his.

  The spell I felt I was under died when he touched me.

  Good.

  Maverick and the other man, whose name I still did not know, led us out what I guessed to be a service entrance to the idling town car.

  The other man got inside the passenger seat next to the driver. At least that was one man I knew had been there tonight.

  Beau opened the door and helped me inside before rounding the trunk and settling in beside me.

  I listened while Maverick instructed the driver to make no stops between here and my home. He also told the driver that the other man, whose name I now learned was Jason, would be riding with “just in case.”

  I didn’t like the sound of just in case.

  The car began to move, and I looked over my shoulder and out the back window, watching as Maverick disappeared behind our taillights.

  We drove in silent contemplation on the quick route to my apartment, my head on Beau’s shoulder and our fingers intertwined. It was almost as if we’d ended many nights together before this one, sans the rush of danger, of course.

  There was a comfort in the way our bodies fell together and his mind accepted mine.

  It didn’t take but a few minutes at this time of night for us to arrive at my building. The evening had been a wonderful stir of excitement, but the last ten minutes, resting in the backseat of the car, had been my favourite by far.

  “This is nice,” I whispered into his neck, and felt him smile.

  Beau kissed my temple. “So nice,” he agreed.

  The driver opened my door, but Beau insisted on getting out of the car anyways. He laughed when I took off my shoes and held them in one hand, his hand holding the other.

  “Goodnight, Charleston.” He did that twirl thing again and kissed the top of my hand.

  I stepped up onto a stair. “Goodnight, Beau.”

  He stood at the bottom of the steps as I climbed, our hands eventually falling apart.

  I was almost to the top when he called after me, “Wait!”

  His dress shoes hit the pavement as he ran up the stairs, and I laughed at the goofy smile on his handsome face.

  “What?” I asked, shaking my head.

  Reaching me, he slid an arm around my waist. “I forgot something,” he declared, then he dipped me low and expertly, like the country club son he was, and his lips took mine.

  It was beautiful.

  My hands slid around his neck and I closed my eyes, savouring every single second.

  It was slow and the way every woman dreamed of being kissed at least once in her lifetime.

  It was like there wasn’t a thing on this earth more important to him in that moment than the way my lips felt on his, like I was being worshiped.

  But that was Beau.

  He was a stolen moment. The kind people knew of, but took for granted anyway.

  He was the perfect gentleman, and the high in me became lighter.

  Kissing Beau Callaway was like laying in bed listening to the rain on a Sunday morning.

  It was peaceful.

  “This isn’t going to work.” I looked up at Tom, whose frustration equally, if not more so, matched mine.

  He nodded. “I could have made the changes last week if they’d asked, but now we aren’t far enough out to get the new materials in time, let alone have it put together.”

  We were in his office, looking at the new stage layout for the Weizmann fundraiser. The CEO had decided he wanted a circular stage as opposed to that of the original rectangular one we’d discussed and had built specifically for t
he event, in which he wanted to host at his ski lodge.

  I had an idea. “What if we—”

  My sentence was stopped short when a breathless Kevin appeared in the doorway. “You’re going to want to see this,” he practically shouted into Tom’s office.

  I looked from Tom to Kevin and back again, somewhat amused, somewhat concerned. “See what?”

  “Come on!” He grabbed my hand, pulling me up from where I’d been sitting on the corner of Tom’s desk and dragging me behind him.

  “What has gotten into you?” I scolded his odd behaviour, which for Kevin was saying something.

  “Just wait.” He shushed me, actually shushed me. “That man, I just…” Now he was talking to himself and not me; however, I was still no less confused on the urgency in which we moved. It was as if the building were on fire.

  Kevin dragged me to his desk and I pulled my hand from his grasp. “Seriously, what the…”

  He smiled as familiar music started playing.

  “Now I’ve had the time of my life…”

  My head swung from Kevin to the singing that had begun in the waiting area.

  No.

  “And I owe it all to you…”

  The cast of last night’s show was in our tiny office and they’d begun to perform, singing and dancing in the middle of chairs and ottomans like there was nothing abnormal about their presence there.

  My eyes flew back to Kevin and found he was no longer paying attention to me. He was singing along and smiling like a loon, clearly enjoying the workday’s interruption.

  Their voices carried loud in the small space, and I could do nothing but watch in awe and a tiny amount of embarrassment as they performed the final scene to the iconic movie that I, and nearly every woman, loved.

  Tina and Tom clapped from their position on the wall, and Emma twirled Kevin around behind me.

  My palms were sweaty, but I was smiling so hard it felt like my face was going to split in two.

  In time with the music, Johnny backed up, and Baby did too, before she came running from the end of the hall.

  My heart swelled.

  She jumped.

  He caught her.

  And they did the lift, right there in the waiting room of Smith & Co Productions on a Wednesday morning.

  I felt Kevin’s arm around my shoulders, and Emma’s came around my waist on the opposite side.