by Charlie Hart
North walks around the stage, inspecting it, a swagger still in his step, and with his ladder of abs, I understand why. When he catches me staring, I blush, but those steel grey eyes of his reach deep inside me and I choose not to look away.
In fact, I want to be seen.
Brecken has long hair, dark eyes, and a lean body that makes mine melt. When he pulls off his joggers, leaving him in nothing but a pair of tight shorts, I gulp. Literally. Looking at his ass is worth breaking every rule my mama ever made.
Sawyer moves toward me, his eyebrows raised, his lips turned up in a smile. He rests an arm on my shoulder so casually, it takes a second for me to realize it’s there. A lock of brown hair falls into his eye and I have to resist running my hand through his hair and pushing it away. “You excited to see the act, sparrow?” he asks.
I nod, inhaling him: he’s all sandalwood and sage. “I’m dying to see what you guys do.”
Arrow, looks over at us. He carries an intensity that the other men can’t match. He has a chiseled jaw, raven-colored hair and dark-as-night eyes. It’s like he is taking everything in, especially me. He nods at the other men and they seem to be silently making a plan.
“You ready?” North asks as he moves with Vaughn across the stage floor, not wasting a moment before he begins climbing the fly tower.
“Ready for what?” I ask. But before anyone can say another word, Vaughn and North leap, already gliding, arms spread, flying in the air.
I cover my mouth, gasping. Surely they are going to fall.
But they don’t. They somehow manage to move their bodies, spin in the air, and stretch their arms out wide, soaring across the stage, back and forth. They don’t stop to hold on to anything at all, before landing on the ground, on their own two feet, in the most seamless and elegant way I could imagine.
Flawless.
“How did you do that?” I ask, not quite believing my eyes.
“You’re not the only one who can fly,” Vaughn says, coming up to me with a grin that has me weak in all the wrong places. Or maybe the exact right places.
I said I wanted to be more in charge of my sexuality now that I’m an adult, and maybe North is the person to take me to new heights. He is seriously handsome: light hair and a nose that is crooked in just the right way. He isn’t magazine cover perfect, but I can’t take my eyes off him.
“You liked that?” Vaughn asks. “Because you haven’t seen anything yet. Sit down and watch the show.”
I do as I’m told–sitting on the stage’s apron, my face turned up, watching as these men climb thick curtain ropes with ease, twenty feet high, then thirty, then forty. This theater is huge, and while there is no set, there are a few leftover props from an old Cirque du Soleil show that we used during auditions.
As the guys begin crisscrossing through the air, stretching their arms, I swear to God they are flying. I know there aren’t wings spread across the breadth of their arms, but when they let go of the ropes that hold them suspended in the air–they should drop–gravity says so.
Yet, these men don’t. They are captivating.
And somehow, Mark discovered this talent and offered them a spot in my show. But as I watch them effortlessly move in the air, my throat goes dry. This show shouldn’t be mine. It should be theirs. I am nothing in comparison to them.
When they finish their impromptu performance, I rise to my feet, clapping. And I hear another person clapping behind me. I turn to see who it is, a smile spreading wide across my face. Mark. He’s off the phone.
He comes up behind me, squeezing my shoulders. “I told you, Lark. They are incredible, right?”
I snort. “That’s the understatement of the century. Where’d you find them?”
Mark smiles. “They found me. Say they saw your videos on YouTube and wanted to be a part of the show. How lucky are we?”
The guys walk toward us, all sweat and smiles, and a charged energy fills the space. I always perform solo. It’s going to be so much fun to have a group of people to work alongside. And these men? I feel the heat rise to my cheeks at the thought.
“We can’t wait to get started on rehearsal,” Sawyer says, shaking Mark’s hand. “We feel so lucky to be here.”
“Wanna come back to the suite, order in some food?” Brecken asks, flashing his new key card.
Mark raises his eyes, then steps away. “I’m just the old guy in the suit. You kids go play.” He shakes his head. “What I’d give to be twenty-one in Las Vegas.” He gives a low whistle and wishes us good luck with rehearsals this week. He won’t be present for those. Our choreographer Melanie will.
With him gone, it’s just me and the guys. It might be awkward, to have all their eyes fixated on me, but I like it. It sends an unexpected thrill up my spine. And when North steps forward, taking my arm, I practically swoon.
“Let’s eat,” I say, eyes bright, pushing away my self-doubt and choosing to be right here, right now.
On the way to the suite, I pull out my phone and text my mom.
Me: Don’t be pissed. I got the show. Signed the contract. Try and be happy for me?
Mom: Happy? Come home now. We can talk in person.
Me: I’m out with my cast. Don’t wait up.
Mom: I need to do the evening ritual, Lark.
Me: Enough, please.
Then I switch off my phone and give the men I’m with my full attention. I love her, I do, but it’s so much. Her care for me borders on obsession.
“Close with your mom?” Arrow asks, nodding to the phone, as we walk side by side to my suite.
I nod. “Almost too close.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“She worries. A lot. She wishes I’d just come home.”
“Do you want to go home?” he asks.
I shake my head, adamant. “No. I’ve worked my entire life for a chance to star in a show. And now I have. I just want to celebrate.”
“Okay,” Arrow says. “If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Thanks.” Sighing, I push my phone deep into my purse. “She just gets so intense.”
“Maybe she’s just looking out for you.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Gotta love her regardless. She’s my mom, you know?”
Arrow twists his lips. “I don’t, really. All us guys, we’re orphans. It’s how we met. Grew up together.”
I frown, feeling a deep well of sympathy for them. I’ve struggled my entire life with not knowing who my father was, but these strong, capable men didn’t know their mother either. I reach for his arm, stopping in the middle of the hall, not caring that the other guys behind us come to a halt as well.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, looking up into Arrow’s cautious eyes. “I can’t imagine what that was like.”
Arrow’s mouth moves like he’s about to say something, but Sawyer cuts him off. “What are you telling her, some sob story?”
I grimace. “It’s not some sob story. It’s your sob story.”
Sawyer looks nonplussed. “A sad story, that’s all it is. Besides, it’s the past. No need to repeat it.”
I try to see past whatever jaded exterior Sawyer is trying to pass off as real. I may not be a witch, but I’m a people watcher. I read emotions like other people read books. And Sawyer’s face tells a story he doesn’t want to be read aloud. That’s all right. We just met and there is no reason to dive into some heavy childhood trauma the night we should be celebrating.
“Hey,” I say, reaching for Sawyer’s hand. I slip mine in it; it’s so easy, I can’t help but wonder why I’ve never done that before. Taken a hand that I want to hold, and just place it against my own. His skin is soft, and even though he speaks in a cynical tone, I know that isn’t everything there is to him.
“Let’s have fun tonight,” I say, squeezing his hand softly. “No sad stories. In fact, no stories at all. Can’t we just eat, drink, and be merry?”
I watch North slide the key card into the hotel door, trying not t
o blush as Brecken sidles up to me. He looks like the cool kid in high school who never would have noticed me. He is tall, dark, and handsome, with an easy smile, and dimples to boot. I’m trying to remember that we are coworkers, but that concept seems a million miles away as he smiles at me.
“So, our little bird is a lush, is she?” Brecken asks with a grin.
I laugh. “Hardly a lush. Truthfully, I’ve never had more than a glass or two of champagne.”
Vaughn frowns as we walk into the room. “Not even on your twenty-first?”
“Not even. It was just a few months ago, anyway. I’ve been so focused on my career I don’t really party. Or, I don’t know... do anything?”
Sawyer strides into the suite and makes a beeline for the mini-fridge. “Well tonight, Dove, that changes.”
“Dove?” I scoff. “Not sure about that nickname.”
Sawyer lifts his head out of the fridge. “Okay, Wren, I’ll keep working on it.”
I laugh and begin touring their suite. “I’ve never stayed somewhere so luxurious,” I admit. “What about you guys?”
“Not even close,” North agrees. “We were in a kind of foster home growing up, never lived a life of luxury.”
He takes my hand and pulls me to him. For a moment I think he is going to kiss me–which is insane, but the truth is, I’d like to feel his lips against mine; to melt into a man’s arms. His arms.
There is a look in his eyes that takes a protective hold over me. But then he surprises me completely. “We need to christen the bed, don’t you think?”
My eyes go wide, my mouth falls open. Is he serious?
His mouth breaks out into a wild grin, laughter filling his face. “You’re naughty, you know that?”
“Me?”
“I was meaning we should jump on the bed, that’s all,” he teases. “Isn’t that what they do in movies when they check into a five-star hotel?”
Then I’m laughing too. These guys aren’t some pervy strangers. They are people, just like me, who somehow landed the biggest break of their lives. And more: somehow, we are more similar than that. All of us can move in ways other people can’t. Somehow, the six of us can fly as wingless creatures, crazy as it sounds.
North pulls me up on the bed, and we start to jump–not caring how loud we are or how ridiculous this might seem to an outsider.
I grab a pillow and hit his chest with it, he does the same back, and the next thing you know all six of us are darting around the room, pillows in hand. On the bed or standing on chairs or rolling on the floor, having the biggest pillow fight of our lives.
When the down pillows burst, it’s like time stills, as if we’re transported into a slow-motion film, and we don’t want to miss a single frame.
Thousands of tiny white feathers begin falling from the sky and we all stop, entranced as they float to the floor.
And something deep inside me tells me this moment is important. That this night matters. That these men–somehow, in some way–are mine.
The feathers from the pillows fall on our faces, our shoulders, down the front of my dress–an explosion of perfectly pure white feathers too numerous to count.
It’s like a dream; like magic.
I look around me, the men standing still, watching me intently. Sawyer steps forward, our eyes locked. The moment feels surreal, like anything is possible.
“You are so beautiful, little sparrow,” Sawyer says. And when he says it, I believe him. I close my eyes and make a wish. And when I open them, he is right in front of me.
And then, Sawyer’s hands are on my face, and my mouth is pressed against his and I forget.
Forget how I got here and where I am going. Forget my name and forget reality.
It’s suspended–all of it. I could say it’s the pillow fight or the new job or the feathers still falling across the room.
But that’s not why I forget.
I forget because, as Sawyer kisses me, my heart begins to beat faster and my mind is made up.
I am not going to stop these men, not any one of them.
Tonight is my night.
And I’m going to celebrate however I like.
4
North
It’s too much. Too fast.
When Sawyer and Lark finish their kiss, I feel the need to intervene. Sure, I initiated the pillow fight–but a kiss the day we meet? The last thing I want to do is scare her away.
When birds get scared, they fly away and never return.
So, when Brecken steps toward her, as if wanting to get into the action too, I know I need to intervene. He’s the biggest player I know. A guy who would sleep with any woman in this casino. To imagine him with Lark? I can’t; it just screams trouble.
“We should call it a night,” I say, knowing my tone is abrupt, but that’s okay. I don’t need to be everyone’s best friend. God knows I’ve never been before. The instructions Gaia gave us were clear-cut. Protect Lark at all costs.
Kissing her will make us lose focus. Distract us from the goal: Keeping her safe.
“So soon?” Lark asks, pulling in her bottom lip. She looks so damn sexy and the thing is, she has no idea. The strap of her flimsy sundress falls off her shoulder. Her jet-black hair is a tousled mess. Everything about her begs for a protective man to watch over her. And I’m not saying that in some male chauvinistic way. I mean, this woman is fragile and small and needs people watching over her.
That is why we are here.
Not so we can kiss her or whatever else. But from the way Brecken is looking at Lark, I’m guessing he has other ideas.
“No, Lark, we’re not ending the night,” Vaughn says. Okay, I guess more than one of us has other ideas.
“Like hell we aren’t,” I say. I lost the popular vote already: yesterday the guys voted to tell her why we came all the way out here in the first place. Wanted to tell her not only why we are here, but what we are.
I shut that shit down quickly. And it looks like I’m gonna need to be the buzz kill again.
“It’s not a question. She’s leaving. Now.” My word is final and they know it. When it comes to the performance, we may be equals – but when it comes to who oversees the flock as a whole – that role was given to me. And I’m not messing around.
The men are pissed, but that’s not my concern. Lark’s safety is all that matters. The men shake their heads and quickly say goodbye to Lark, who looks both disappointed and embarrassed.
“Can I take you home?” Vaughn asks, stepping forward.
Lark looks at the ground. “I’m fine. I know my way back to where I belong.”
Feeling dejected, the other guys leave the foyer of our suite and I take an extra second, wanting to tell her something... anything that will take that look off her face.
“It’s not you–” I start but she cuts me off.
“Don’t,” she says pushing up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”
I scowl. “You don’t understand,” I try again, looking at this woman and suddenly feeling like even though she is a tiny thing, she is stronger than she knows.
“Let me guess, you know what’s best for me, you have my best intentions at heart, you don’t want me to get hurt?” She twists her lips, looking up at me with those dark eyes of hers. Eyes that cover a pain in her heart. A pain she doesn’t even know yet, can’t begin to fathom. Gaia, mother-fucking-Earth, has a purpose for her, but she doesn’t know that yet. And until she does, she won’t be able to understand herself.
I wish I knew the secrets Gaia keeps. The things about Lark that would make everything click into place. Why we are here and why she is here and why she can fly without wings, but of course, I don’t have those answers, so saying anything at all would only confuse Lark more. And God knows that my fast end to the party is confusing enough.
“I’m just gonna go home now, North,” she says softly. Then she grabs her purse from a chair. “See you tomorrow at rehearsal, okay?”
I nod, following her out the
door to the elevator. Once she is safely in it, I head back to the suite, where the guys are all ready to pounce.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that, North?” Vaughn starts.
I shake my head. “Not now. She’s leaving the hotel. We need to follow her.”
“Obviously,” Sawyer says, looking at me as if I’ve lost it. “That is the only thing that matters.”
The seriousness of our task trumps any feelings they may have toward me at the moment.
“Let’s go to the balcony, we can fly from there,” Arrow suggests.
I nod, and seconds later the door to the balcony is flung open, and we stand on the metal railing separating the hotel from the ground below.
Then we leap, all five of us, knowing Lark is our target. We need to find her, and once one of us does, the rest of us will fly back around and form a circle around her. Making sure she is safe.
As we jump, we spread our arms, our bodies shifting as we move. Our arms turn to wings, our bodies turn to smooth muscles, feathers, and beaks. We are no longer men.
We are hawks.
And we aren’t looking for our prey, we’ve already found the one thing that matters.
Lark.
I fly downward, arms outreached, headed to the front of the hotel.
I spot her, getting into a yellow cab, and I contact the hawks, signaling them to follow.
We may not know why we’ve been sent to keep her safe, but that changes nothing.
The fact she is the most gorgeous creature we’ve ever seen can’t distract us from our mission.
We must keep her safe at all costs.
5
Lark
The entire ride home I’m silently mortified. That kiss could have been the start of something wonderful but instead North sent me away.
I’m not a yeller, a fighter, a screamer, or a tantrum thrower, but right this second I would give anything to be any one of those things. I wish I’d been more infuriated when North insisted everyone leave, but instead I stood there with a shocked looked on my face. Just when I thought I was finally going to break out of the shell I’ve been trapped in all my life, everything came to a grinding halt.
