Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  Fuck Charlene, I still want him.

  I want to slap the shit out of him, and kiss him at the same time. An orgy of emotion knocks through me as he towers over me, glowering. Whatever alcohol is left in my system evaporates in that instant. His icy blue eyes sober me.

  He looks past me, to his brother, Benny. Fury seems to be pouring out of him. I follow his penetrating gaze. Poor Benny, he looks so afraid, and ashamed. I firmly put my hand on Vincent’s chest, a silent gesture telling him to restrain himself.

  Does it really matter if his brother is gay? I wouldn’t have imagined Vincent reacting like this. I can feel his barely contained hostility brewing into something fierce.

  “Her, too, Benny? You want to fuck her, too?!” He spits out, acidly. His nostrils flare.

  Jordan looks like he’s been slapped; anger and confusion twist his features. We both turn to Benny, waiting for his retort, but he drops his head. He’s inundated in shame. It’s easy to see.

  “Don’t talk to him like that!” I snap.

  It takes a moment, but I realize he’s referring to me. He thinks Benny wants to fuck me? Me? I am so lost. And obviously, so is Vincent. He has it all wrong.

  He fixes his glare on me.

  “And you? You don’t know him, right, Lenore?” he snaps.

  My brows shoot up to my hairline, what is he thinking?

  “I saw you dancing. I saw him kiss you. But he just feels familiar, right?”

  How dare he lecture me? Considering he just spent the night with his ex-bitch. I shake my head at him, and push him further down the alley toward the nearly empty parking lot and away from Benny. I need to get him away from Benny and Jordan before he snaps. I know I don’t owe him an explanation, but for Benny’s sake, I plan on making something up.

  “Not here, we all need to get out of here, now! Lets go!” Kazumi snaps her fingers.

  Our confrontation needs to be put on hold; the anger is dispelled long enough for all of us to see that she’s right. There was just a shooting in the club for fucks sake! We need to get out of here, standing around and arguing isn’t a luxury we can afford just now.

  Jordan walks over to me and takes me by the hand. Vincent snatches my arm away from Jordan. Jordan wastes no time getting right up in his face.

  Uh-oh.

  “Don’t fucking touch her asshole! I’m taking her home,” Jordan snarls at Vincent. Vincent squares his shoulders, as does Jordan. They are both seething with rage! Neither one of them is backing down. Benny looks lost, afraid, and completely helpless. Vincent will clearly win should this come to blows, but Jordan does cut quite an intimidating figure.

  Shit! Who the fuck is going to take me home? I feel bile rise in my throat.

  “Back up, I’m taking her home. Everyone to their neutral corners,” Kazumi doesn’t even have to raise her voice for people to stop and listen to her. My arm is reluctantly released.

  Kazumi grabs hold of me and leads me toward her little Smart Car. Jordan pushes Benny toward his car and they stalk off together, leaving a very confused and angry Vincent standing in the parking lot, alone.

  I almost feel sorry for him; he looks so dejected. But I quickly push the feeling away.

  Charlene. Remember that? If anyone should feel sad and dejected, it’s me.

  As soon as Kazumi starts her car, her cell phone pings. Police cars are flying down the street, surrounding the building. Security waves us out of the lot.

  I pick up Kazumi’s cell phone after she gestures with her eyes that I should check it; it’s a text from Jordan.

  *Meet at your studio*

  I flash the screen at Kazumi and we speed off onto the freeway. We’re both quiet as Kazumi races down the road.

  I can’t stop the questions bubbling up inside my head.

  1. Who the hell was shooting in the club?

  2. Where the hell did Vincent come from?

  3. Was he watching me?

  4. Is he with Charlene!?

  And lastly, what did he mean when he shouted at Benny, “You want to fuck her, too?” Too???

  What a horrible night. My life feels like it is spiraling out of control. I lean my head back against the headrest. Emotionally exhausted, I press my warm forehead against the cool glass of the passenger side window. I miss the simple days when there was absolutely nothing interesting happening in my life...

  Wait. No I don’t. Do I?

  “You do know that Vincent saved you, right?” Kazumi’s voice is so soft; I think I imagined it.

  I lift my head and frown. Huh?

  “The gunman, he was right behind you. He must have been aiming at someone right next to you or…” She trails off. “You could have been hit. I was at the top of the stairs. Vincent was watching you from the bar, watching you dance with Benny. I was going to go down and talk to him. He saw the man pull out his gun, and then someone shouted. Vincent pushed through everyone and picked you up.” She shakes her head in dismay.

  “He could have been struck by a bullet as well. Thank goodness for the swarm of people, I think the guy with the gun must have been pushed and thrown off balance, but Vincenthe didn’t care. He made sure he got you out of the club. I still have no idea if anyone else was struck. It’d be a miracle if no one did.” Her voice is soft and incredulous. She’s in awe. I guess I should be too, but I’m in shock.

  “We’re not performing next week. Not until I figure out what the hell is happening. I’ll drop you off at the studio and then I’m going back. I need to know what’s going on.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, keep me updated. You should have just let Jordan take me home.”

  I’m stunned. I sound calm, but I am anything but. You could knock me over with a feather. This is unreal. Someone had a gun. And that someone could have shot and killed Vincent. Or me…

  She looks at me, brows high.

  “If I didn’t step in to bring you home, then that showdown between Jordan and Vincent would not have ended well.”

  True. Jordan is scary when he’s angry, but not as scary as Vincent. Not to mention Vincent is 190 pounds of solid muscle, very toned, very solid, very delicious muscle. I shake my head to empty the thought of him.

  What a mess. I’m incredibly grateful for what Vincent has done. It’s confusing, being angry with him, and grateful at the same time. He got me out of the club so fast. He put my safety before his own. Who knows what could have happened if he wasn’t there? Kazumi’s revelation has just made things infinitely more complicated.

  I’m dropped off at the ballet studio twenty minutes later. Kazumi unlocks the door and leaves me with the key and instructions to lock up. I’m joined by Benny and Jordan shortly after. It’s only midnight, but I know I’m going to be exhausted tomorrow. I’m not accustomed to so much activity and emotional outbursts. It’s tiring.

  We sit on the floor of the studio; a single chandelier casts a shadowy glow over us. We’re quiet for the first few moments, eerily quiet. It makes me uncomfortable, but Benny is the first to break the silence.

  Jordan looks terribly hurt. I hate to see him look like this.

  What is happening?

  “I have something to say…some explaining to do, for myself, and for Vincent.” Benny’s eyes search mine.

  I try my best not to react to hearing Vincent’s name.

  “Just before my grandfather died, he named Vincent heir to his...fortune. Sole heir to hundreds of million of dollars.” He pauses for our reaction; Jordan and I are frozen. I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Surely I’m dreaming all of this. I’ve just fallen down the rabbit hole. That’s all. My world has gone topsy-turvy.

  “My entire family was surprised to learn that my grandfather cut us all out. He lived simply considering how much money he had, and we all thought it would be broken up; the money, properties, the family businesses. We thought my father would take over for grandfather, and we’d each get a small piece of the pie, but that wasn’t the case. Apparently Vincent had an explanation as to why my grandfathe
r chose him, but he wouldn’t share that reason with any of us.” Benny closes his eyes and swallows his resentment. “It pissed me off.”

  He pauses for so long I think that’s all he’s going to say. But he glances at Jordan apologetically, and continues.

  “Anyway we’re all taken care of, but he won’t tell us what he’s doing with the business’s and properties. We don’t know what he’s doing or what his plans are. We’ve all been left out and he completely shuts down whenever any of us asks. My grandmother doesn’t care. She’s more than taken care of. My father is a drunk; I think he’s relieved to not have to get involved in things that are over his head. My mother was the only one to try to contest the will, but it was iron clad and she could do nothing. Besides…Vincent is good at what he does. And he’s taking care of us, but I meanit has still been a bitter pill to swallow.”

  I’m stupefied. I knew his family had money, but I had no idea... I feel sick. I really know absolutely nothing about Vincent.

  “I was angry, we all were...especially because Vincent, well Vincent didn’t have his shit together any more than the rest of us did. Why leave everything to him when he abandoned everyone to teach music? He outright told my grandfather not to leave him anything because he wasn’t going to be like him!”

  He glances around at Jordan and me to see if we’re on his side, but Jordan and I are still as statues.

  “You saw my dad, Lenore. He’s a drunk and he has never really worked for anything in his life, bur for his own father to cut him out? And Vincent…he finished school at Oxford University, and grandfather was priming him for takeover and then he completely changed direction and went to school at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, and basically cut us all off. We hardly ever saw him during that time. No explanation. He didn’t tell us why he had a falling out with grandfather.

  “My grandfather called him when he was ill, and he came running back. Something was happening in the last days of our grandfather’s life, but Vincent… he’s secretive about it. I mean, why him? Why confide in him, and why leave everything to him?” Benny catches himself as his voice begins to rise. Obviously he’s still baffled and upset.

  “Ium, well I was confused, and angry for multiple reasons. My own personal life was…I was figuring out who I was and then Vincent taking over was just the icing on the cake.”

  He looks to Jordan with pleading eyes, “I slept with Vincent’s girlfriend. Charlene. Itit’s a despicable thing to do, especially to your only brother. I guess I just wanted to prove a point. Or get back at him for being the favorite our whole lives.”

  We are silent. Jordan looks like he’s going to be sick.

  “They weren’t together at the time, things had fallen apart between the two of them while he was away in San Francisco. Vincent was getting further and further away from us all. But she kept trying to win him back. She came to me for comfort and I…was angry and confused! I used her to get back at my brother. I felt terrible about it. I still feel terrible about it.” Benny pauses, he’s silent and far away as a wounded Jordan digests this new information.

  “I told him right away, he forgave me not too long after. I think it brought us closer together actually. Charlene, she was out of the picture, he said I did him a favor.” He shrugs, but the pain is still in his eyes. It’s obvious he feels terrible about it. But new questions spring to my mind.

  Why the fuck was she at their parents’ home last night? I am so confused and saddened by this revelation. I’m not comfortable with the fact that Vincent is sitting on a fortune, I mean, what the hell? And that explains why Vincent thought that Benny and I were...? Geez. How did my life get so complicated?

  I stand up, my knees feel like they’re made of jelly, but I pretend not to notice. I’m not mad at Benny. He, unlike his brother, is an open book. He’s honest about his faults and misgivings. He’s making an effort to be open with Jordan, and all that he did with Charlene…it’s in the past. It has nothing to do with the future he’s carving out for himself. No. I’m not mad at him. He’s barely coming to terms about the fact that he’s attracted to the opposite sex, his life must be confusing as it is, but he is still making a better effort than his brother.

  Vincent hasn’t told me a damn thing. He’s the dishonest one. He’s the one I’m mad at. I look at Benny and Jordan. They have a lot to talk about.

  “I’ll leave you two to talk. Oh, and Benny,” he looks up at me expectantly, as does Jordan, “good luck.” I grin at him, and flick my eyes toward Jordan and toss him the key to the studio and turn to leave.

  I’ll catch up with Jordan later. I hope that he doesn’t hold a grudge against Benny for what he’s done in the past. I don’t think he will, but the look on his face was hard to read. Jordan isn’t innocent himself.

  The truth is, I don’t care that Benny slept with Charlene. Obviously she’s a whore. Maybe I’m being judgmental, I don’t care, but it’s cheapened her in my eyes. Benny clearly feels terrible about what he did in the past, but it’s just that, the past. It has absolutely nothing to do with me. That’s between brothers, and he was open about it and actually confessed to Vincent.

  But Vincent appears to think that his brother is still capable of betrayal. He’s wounded. Scarred by what happened even if he did forgive Benny. Did he truly love Charlene once? Does he still? How could he take her back after she slept with his brother if he doesn’t love her? Of course he must love her…Fuck. Where does that leave me?

  Despite the fact that it’s late, and very dark, I walk home slowly. Once again replaying the drama of the night in my mind. Why was Vincent there? And why was he watching me? I unlock my shop doors and drag myself upstairs. Bucky doesn’t greet me, which is strange. My shop is eerily quiet. I’m struck by how lonely I feel. I feel bereft. I don’t want to be alone tonight...alone with my thoughts.

  I trawl up the stairs and open the door to my apartment. I can’t wait to put this night behind me. I fling open the door, and there on my couch, surrounded in dim red light, with Bucky on his lap, is Vincent.

  I’m startled, and grab the doorframe; my heart leaps into my throat. I think I’ve aged 10 years tonight. Fuck, he’s here.

  Once I’ve recovered, I slam the door shut and throw my keys onto the table.

  “Why are you here? You can’t just come in whenever you please,” I frown at him. I’ll need to find a new spot to stash my spare key.

  Vincent doesn’t move. His eyes are ice.

  “Where were you?” he asks, his voice deceptively quiet. I know he is trying very hard to suppress his anger.

  Who does he think he is?

  I don’t bother answering him. I stalk off to my closet to change. I need to be comfortable for this argument. I pull the string of my closet light, kick off my shoes and throw my dress to the floor. Anger grabs hold of me. He comes to stand in the doorway just as I pull a t-shirt over my head.

  I’m in nothing but small panties and a thin top. I know how I look. I watch his eyes rake over me; he’s momentarily distracted as I shove past him and head back to the living room.

  “Why do you think I owe you an explanation?!”

  Try not to shout, Lenore.

  Anger clouds his eyes as he stalks toward me, but then he stops mid-stride. He runs his hands through his hair, and loosens his tie. He sighs deeply. My muscles are rigid with anger, with exhaustion, and with frustrated desire for him.

  “Iyou don’t. You don’t owe me an explanation.” He looks up at me again, his eyes softening, pleading with me. He looks haunted. There is tightness around his eyes; his face is lined with strain and sadness.

  “But I want one, Lenore. I want to know where you were, and who you were with,” his jaw is set firmly, his posture, tense.

  Ah, I see. He still thinks I was with his brother, like “with his brother”. I arch my brow, walk to my mini fridge, grab a bottle of Red Stripe, crack it open and take a long swig.

  “I was just with your brother,” I say lightly.r />
  His body stills. The silent fury he was trying to shove down appears as quickly as lightening.

  “Why? Does that bother you?” I ask sarcastically.

  He stumbles to the couch and sits heavily with his head in his hands. Bucky makes a retreat to my bedroom. Some protector. In one swift move, he punches my coffee table, hard. I flinch, I’m pretty sure I heard the wood crack.

  “Well, he didn’t do me any favors this time,” he whispers sadly to himself.

  He sounds so wounded and despondent. My heart hurts, why am I toying with him like this? Despite the fact that I feel I should torture him a bit longer, I give in.

  “Relax, nothing happened. It’s not like that.”

  He looks up at me, his eyes haunted again; wide and wary with some unnamed emotion. My heart twists. Then I remember Charlene and I pull myself together. I will not feel sorry for him, no matter how hard this is.

  “Listen, if you want an explanation as to how I know your brother, you’re going to need to ask him. Not me. It isn’t my place. But I will say this; it is absolutely not what you are thinking. He’s my friend. That’s all.”

  He looks confused, and then relief sweeps through him. His shoulders relax and he sits back on my small couch. He fills the space with his body.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to fling accusations at you.”

  “Why were you at The Speak Easy tonight? What were you doing watching me?”

  He looks like he’s thinking, thinking about what to say next.

  Yes, you’ve been caught spying.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “I was upstairs, in a private room…”

  I glare at him. What the fuck? Who was he with?

  “Celebrating a case,” he clarifies when he sees my reaction. “Having dinner. Unfortunately, I had to miss your performance.” He sits up again and places his hands on his knees.