by Tia Louise
I nod and look down. The funny thing about champagne is I don’t feel a rush of sadness, but I know his words hurt because my eyes are damp.
“I tried to do as you asked and leave you alone,” he says.
“You didn’t try too hard.” My words are a little slurred.
He notices as well and walks over to me. “Are you drunk?” He lifts my chin. I shake my head a bit too vigorously, and he frowns. “Roland shouldn’t let you drink.”
“It was only two glasses of champagne.”
“Baby,” he says as his frown relaxes.
I try to walk away, but I stumble over my own feet.
As always, he catches me.
“Take it easy,” he says as I fight to disengage myself from his embrace, but it’s too late. I know this location too well.
I stop struggling and melt into him. He studies my face a moment before lowering his mouth to mine. With a deep sigh, my lips part, his tongue finds mine, and instantly I’m back in that place of delicious warmth, heat, and desire.
But it’s over as soon as it starts.
He pulls back, stepping away, and shoving his hands in his back pockets. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to do that.”
He goes to where Roland left a half-empty bottle of champagne and snatches it up, taking a long drink.
“Why did you come here?” My voice is quiet.
He reaches into his coat. “I got you a present.”
It’s a long, narrow box, and I take it, wiping my eyes with one hand and turning it over with my other. “You didn’t have to.”
“Open it.”
Tearing the ivory-colored paper away, I find a narrow black box inside. When I lift the top, light hits the gleaming brass, and I realize what it is. A small cry escapes my throat as I collapse to a sitting position, clutching my mother’s pen to my chest.
“Oh, Mark,” I say through fresh tears. “It’s too much. It’s more than you can afford.”
“I couldn’t let you part with it.”
Even through the champagne, I feel this pain.
It’s the pain of my heart breaking again.
With a hiccupped breath, I reach out for him. He steps forward, dropping to one knee, and I reach for his cheek. He kisses me, and for a moment, all I know is our lips pressed together, our need for each other.
I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his cheek.
I can’t fight this.
“What happens now?” I say softly.
“Come home with me tonight. We can sort it out in the morning.”
I nod, anticipation heating my skin. My body longs for his, and when our eyes meet, I see the fire burning there. Once more our lips meet, soft and melding together. Our tongues touch, and the heat in my core aches with persistence. A soft moan slips from my mouth to his as his rough hand slides along my neck, his thumb tracing my jaw.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, holding my gaze in the moonlight. “I really only came here to say that and give you your present.”
My forehead tightens. “Would you rather I stay here?”
His beautiful smile appears. “No way. I’ve been trying to get you in my bed for weeks.”
It provokes a tiny laugh from me, but the anxiety in my chest hasn’t completely disappeared. I want Mark so desperately, but that threat, that fear is still nudging at the back of my mind. Don’t think about it for one night…
Leaning closer, I kiss his lips once more. “I want to be in your bed.”
His hands are on my waist, sliding under my sweater to tease my bare skin. My lower stomach tightens. Our lips unite again, and I’m growing desperate for more.
“It’ll take me a second to pack a bag,” I whisper.
“Meet me at the back door.”
I hurry down the narrow stairs, wondering how long it will take for me to learn to relax, to stop looking over my shoulder. The room is empty, and on my dressing table is a note that reads, Molly is with me. Enjoy the night. Happy Birthday, Rosa
My worried mind says to go to Rosa’s room and carry Molly back, stick to the plan. I run my finger down the side of the sparkling barrette Freddie gave me and think of my old promise. I think of Mark in the shop, our fingers entwined.
A tapping on my door startles me. Mark must’ve grown tired of waiting.
“Come in,” I say softly.
My eyes go to my small bed, and I remember our first time, the intensity, the heat, the pleasure. I remember his mouth on my pussy making me come so hard I screamed. I can still remember his lined body and how my breath caught at the sight of his cock. Heat fills my panties at the memory, and I hurry to the door wanting him now. We’ll get to his bed eventually…
“I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” Gavin says, stepping into the light.
“No!” I jump back, ice in my veins.
Gavin never visits me, and all I can think of is Roland’s warning.
“Happy birthday,” he says, placing a small box on my dressing table. “I got you just a little something.”
I silently watch his every move, waiting to hear why he’s really here. He looks around the empty room.
“Where’s…”
“Molly is spending the night with Rosa.”
He nods, and looks down. “I wanted to talk to you about her.”
A shuffling in the hall interrupts us. We both look at the doorway where Mark is now standing. My breath disappears, my throat is tight. We’re not forbidden from having boyfriends, but I know when it comes to sex, Gavin expects a cut.
“What are you doing here?” His sharp voice echoes in my small room.
“Sorry,” Mark answers fast. “I was returning this.”
He hands me my mother’s pen, and Gavin watches our exchange with a stern expression.
“Let yourself out,” Gavin says. “I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”
Mark hesitates, but we don’t have a choice.
“Goodnight,” he says softly and disappears into the passage.
Gavin steps out behind him, watching until I hear the click of the back door and my heart sinks along with my dreams. Gavin returns and goes to my table.
“I saw you out with him the other night. And I’ve seen him watching you.”
“Is that so wrong?” Losing my chance at happiness, even if it was only for one night, has me bitter.
Gavin’s mouth tightens. “It’s not very smart. It can cause… conflicts.”
I glare up at him, knowing what he means but unable to argue. Getting involved with a woman whose sexuality is a commodity is a recipe for disaster.
“Just don’t get pregnant. And take better care with your valuables.” He exhales and turns to the door. “I came to speak to you about the little one. My brother finds her interesting.”
In that moment, I feel distinctly as if the hand of my worst nightmare has reached out from the darkness and grabbed me by the neck.
“He’s asking for her—” Gavin continues.
“No.” I forget all my fear. My eyes are clouded as I rush to the door and grab his arm. “What does he want?”
“It appears you know what he wants.” He looks down at my hand clutching his sleeve. “He wants her for himself.”
“He can’t have her!”
“She has no family, no talent, no education. It’s probably the only way she’ll ever make money.”
“She has me. I’m her family. And she doesn’t need to make money. She’s never cost you a dime.”
“That’s not the point.” He covers my hand, loosening my fingers. “Guy holds the deed to this place. He gets what he wants.”
My head is spinning, and for a moment I think I might collapse. Then I remember his words, what he said about watching me grow.
“He can have me. I’ll take her place.” It’s out so fast, I don’t have time to reconsider. I look down at my clenched fists.
“No,” Gavin says. “You’re too important to the show.”
“I won’t let him hurt
her.”
Gavin presses his lips together in a tight line. We stand in a silent impasse, him in the doorway, me facing him down, fighting to pull air into my lungs.
“I’ll hold him off a little longer,” he finally says. “Perhaps he’ll lose interest.”
I don’t speak as he turns to go. I can’t stop trembling. He stops before closing the door again. “I hope you like your gift. It was your mother’s favorite.”
Then he shuts the door, and I’m alone in the lamplight. After a few moments, I turn and slowly go to the table, my whole body tense. I lift the box he put there. Inside is a tiny bottle of what looks like perfume, and when I pull the stopper, my room fills with the scent of tea-roses and ocean air, the scent of my mother. I remember her dark hair, the soft folds of her cotton gown, being a tiny girl and pulling these things around me for comfort, for protection.
I close my eyes and sit in my chair, pulling my knees to my chest. My body shakes harder, and I hug my legs tighter as I rock back and forth, afraid of what’s coming.
17
“I broke my own heart loving you.”
Mark
The back lot is dark.
It’s chilly and drops of rain hit my face. I look up at the sky, but I can’t leave. My fists tighten and release, and I pace the dirty asphalt. I don’t like Gavin in Lara’s room. I don’t like what he might be saying to her, ordering her to do… and fuck, I’m pissed at losing our night together.
I look at the chunky stainless steel watch I got at the shop when I bought back her mother’s pen. Ten minutes. I reach for the handle, ready to face the consequences and storm back in there, when it pushes into my fist.
Gavin steps out into the darkness. “Figured I’d find you here.” His voice is a growl, and he shoves a square slip of paper in my hand. “Take that to the Walgreens on Magazine Street. Tell the doc it’s a standing order.”
“But…” I look down at the paper. Narcan is written on it, and some physician signed it. I can’t tell if it’s real or a forgery. “There’s no name on this.”
He steps closer, speaking through clenched teeth. “That’s why you go to the fucking Walgreens on fucking Magazine Street. What the fuck have I said about you questioning me?”
My jaw tightens. This asshole has given me close to five thousand dollars in the past week alone. Half of it went to clothes. A little bit went to gas and the hotel in Union City, but enough is left over to keep me on the line. If I have a few thousand coming in every week, it’ll be enough for me to keep my promise to Lara and even include Molly in the process.
I back down. “When do you need it?”
His shoulders relax along with his voice. “I want it in my hands first thing in the morning. We have the situation under control for tonight.”
I know he’s talking about Tanya. I know what I saw, and if she was already shooting up, her situation is progressing fast.
“It’s late, but I’ll go there before I go home.”
“You have a car?”
“I’ll catch the streetcar.”
“Better get going.”
He stands in front of the door with his arms crossed, and I’m pretty sure this errand is as much about getting me out of here as it is getting what he needs to revive Tanya when she overdoses.
Shoving the paper in my pocket, I start walking south toward Canal. I’m two steps away when he stops me.
“If you’re smart, you’ll keep your hands off Lara.”
I look up over my shoulder. His expression isn’t cruel or menacing, and I’m sure he’s trying to give me good advice like Terrence did my first day.
“I’ve never been very smart.”
The rain is picking up, and I keep moving.
Lara
Like a giant wheel, our week begins again with stale breakfast, never enough, rehearsals until we dance in our dreams, costume adjustments, set repairs, and then back to bed to sleep until it all begins again.
Mark finds me in the wings, where I watch as Fiona works with the dancers. One look, and I’m in his arms. It hurts so much, I can’t push him away. We’re behind the heavy, dark curtains, and our times here making love are like muscle memory. His tongue finds mine, and he kisses me long and hungrily, warm breath whispering across my cheek, strong hands lifting me against the hardness in his jeans. I slide my fingers into his soft hair, but this time I’m wearing yoga pants not a skirt, my panties firmly in place.
“I miss you so much,” he says beside my ear, and despite my panic and fear, I cling to him, battling tears as he kisses my cheek then my lips again. “Maybe we can try tonight?” Then he sees my expression. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
It rips at my heart to let him go, but I steel myself. “I can’t. I have to stick to my plans with Freddie.”
“Why are you saying this now? What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. I made a promise, and I have to keep it.”
“No, you don’t.”
I nod, swallowing the pain in my throat. “It’s my fault Molly’s here. She’s in danger because of me—”
“She’s not a puppy, Lara.”
“I never said she was.”
“Yet you dedicate yourself to her as if…” he pauses, looking for the right word.
“As if I were her mother?”
“Yes.”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand.” I turn and go to the door leading to the backstage passage. My hand is on the handle just as his finds my waist and arm. He pulls my back against his warm body, and my insides melt.
“Wait,” he says. “Don’t go yet.”
“It’s better if I do.”
“But what about us?” He presses his face into my hair. “Don’t we matter?”
“I could never forgive myself…” My voice fades, but the truth remains.
I could walk away and leave her behind to face whatever fate awaits her… And I’d never be happy as long as I lived.
His grip relaxes, and he steps back, releasing me. “So you’re determined to end it.”
Pain wrenches my insides. “I’m sorry.”
He starts to say something, but I’m through the door before I can hear it, running to my shared room as fast as my legs will take me.
I’ve given up on dreaming about a future with Mark, but each afternoon a small token appears on my dressing table.
First it was a single blue iris. Then it was a tiny chocolate, next a little sketch of two hands, the fingers entwined.
By Thursday, I have a collection in the small basket beneath my dressing table, along with the box that holds my mother’s perfume.
Tonight he behaves as if nothing has changed. He watches me climb from the top of the ladder with a calm expression on his face, and while we wait, he holds my hand and caresses the top of it with his thumb.
It’s excruciating, but I’m too overwhelmed to argue. I don’t understand why he’s behaving this way, deluding himself and killing me.
“Nothing’s changed,” I whisper in the moments as I get in position, belt around my waist.
“I’m not letting you go.”
Pain. “I’m leaving with Freddie.”
“Not yet.”
I shake my head and turn away as my seat moves out, and I present the same song of disillusionment to a new set of dazzled faces.
Freddie is preoccupied in my dressing room, but I do my best to keep my demeanor light. “I hope you’re not growing tired of me,” I say, tracing my finger up his hand and slipping it under his cuff. “It always makes me happy to know you’re out there watching.”
He laces our fingers and kisses my cheek. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” he says, releasing my hand.
Panic tightens my neck. “Bad news?”
“I’ve got to go to Paris tonight… in just a few hours, actually. Not enough time to take you with me, I’m afraid.”
My heart slams to the floor, and I don’t have to pretend to be horrified. “What?”
He pulls me against his chest. “I know, and normally I’d be thrilled to return home. This time all I can think of is not seeing you.”
I’m afraid I might lose it. “For how long?”
“A month, three weeks at the most. Apparently some urgent business matter requires my immediate, personal attention.” Then he smiles. “But the good news is there’s a divine little jewelry store just off the Champs-Élysées. I have the perfect gift in mind—”
“A month.” My voice is quiet as fear trickles into my veins.
“Will you forget me?”
“Of course not.”
He kisses my lips then reaches for his breast pocket.
“To be sure, my adorable little Luddite, I bought you something useful and something to help you remember me.”
I’m numb as I take the box and open it to find a golden locket. He opens it to reveal a tiny picture of himself inside.
I stare at it, unable to smile.
He chuckles and turns me around to fasten it at my neck. It’s too long and slips between my breasts. When he turns me back around, I don’t lift it for him. I hold my breath as he silently observes its position.
Maybe if I sleep with him…
The air is charged as I wait for his response, ready to welcome anything that might take us away from here to Paris, but he only pulls the delicate chain, lifting the locket into his hand.
Our eyes met, and my almost-tears are real this time. “How can you leave me?”
“I know, it’s excruciating, but now for the something useful.” I watch as he again reaches into his breast pocket and removes a slim, white device. “I took the liberty of buying you this, active and ready to go.”
My eyes flicker down to the phone in his hand.
“And your number…” He takes my mother’s pen off my dressing table and writes on a tissue. When he finishes, he rolls the pen around in his fingers. “This is a nice piece. Where did you get it?”
“It was my mother’s.”
His eyebrows quirk up, before he continues. “Roland programmed his number, and of course my number is saved. We can video chat every night. It’ll almost be like we’re together.”
