by Kailin Gow
“So she just ousted you out of jealousy?” That seems pretty extreme, even by the standards of billionaire family soap operas.
“Well...I have to admit...I also wasn't exactly managing the place as well as I could have been. We were losing a lot of money. I'm not so great with numbers...”
“So, Danny had to agree, too?” I can't help it; I find Terrence's sheepish smile charming.
“He's a real stickler for competency,” Terrence says. “Clarance Blue put him in charge of all Blues Enterprises and he feels a real need to do his father proud and make money, even on industries he finds distasteful. I don't blame him. If I were an actually good businessperson, I'd have fired me too. So now, you see, I am not Terrence Blue, manager any longer, but only lowly Mr. O.”
“I feel bad,” I murmur. “If you wanted to see me, you could have just called. I'd have seen you anyway, without you having to pay. You never paid before.”
Terrence hesitates slightly, looking away, refusing to meet my eye. Then he looks up at me. “Can I tell you something?” he says. “Something you can't tell anyone – not even...him?”
We both know he means Mr. X: Xander Blue.
“I swear,” I say. “On my mother's life.”
“I know that means a lot, coming from you,” he puts his hand on my shoulder. “I knew I could trust you. So here goes. I'm not just Mr. O. to see you. I mean, it's an added benefit – but there's something else. I came back because I think Roz's killer is still out there, and that there's a strong possibility that he's still among the Blue Room circuit. I don't know who he is. He could be anyone. And I'm worried about you, Staci. I'm worried you're not safe.”
I sigh. “I should just quit.”
He looks up at me. “I asked you so many times to quit – but you refused. Do you really think you could quit now?”
I think of my dream: of Roz, naked, dead. Of Rita. Can I really quit now: now that I finally have allies to help me solve Rita's disappearance and Roz's murder?
“Could you, Staci?” Terrence asks me again. “Could you really?”
“No,” I admit. “I can't.”
I see the disappointment cross his face.
“I understand,” he says, softly.
He takes me in his arms, but a thought has entered my mind: a dark one. Everyone has a double life, I think. I can trust Terrence – but can I really? What if he wants me to quit so that I can stop investigating myself? What if he has secrets he doesn't want me to find?
After all, everybody else does.
Chapter 4
I doze off again, and when I wake up, my body and my mind are both empty: beautifully so. I've been deliriously spent by the pleasure I've experienced: pleasure that has overflowed my entire body. I'm exhausted. I'm dewy with sweat, with the smell of Terrence Blue and his musky cologne, with the smell of my pleasure and our union on me. I can't move. My arms feel like lead. My feet are bolted to the bed. My body is still tingling from the way Terrence has made me feel.
Nobody else can make me feel like this, I think. Maybe Xander. But sex with Xander is always mind-blowing in a different way: emotional, tender, passionate. Terrence is always playful, flirtatious, his power over me and mine over him colliding in ways that bring us both to the brink. With Xander, I am the beloved girlfriend, the girl on his arm. But with Terrence, I'm somebody else: somebody I don't recognize, but I'm learning to like. Half-woman, half-beast. And I enjoy every second of it.
I sleep for a little while, and as I sleep I dream of the moments that have passed: Terrence's tongue trailing my inner thigh, lapping between my legs, exploring with his fingers the deepest and the darkest parts of me, making me come again and again, my back arched in an ecstasy unlike any I have ever known. It is the best feeling in the world, I think.
But then I wake up. And this time there is no Terrence to tease me, to torment me, to tantalize me with his tongue. I am alone. And the bed feels so empty now. I look over to the other side of the bed and see that the impression in it is fresh: Terrence must have gone only a short while ago. Still, already, I miss him.
He's left a note, handwritten, alongside a vase of flowers: beautiful fresh lilies, white, delicately scented.
I'm going away for a few days, my darling, the note says. Much as I don't want to. Keep this bed warm for me for when I get back. I'm going to miss you every second of the day.
I murmur his name involuntarily.
I hate being without Terrence: especially here. For so long, Terrence was my only ally in the labyrinthine world of the Blue Room, where every friend is a potential foe, and vice versa. What am I going to do without Terrence here to watch over me? How am I going to keep myself safe? After all, Roz and Rita's killer is still on the loose. Could he be targeting me next?
I shake my head, trying not to think about the fears that grow inside of me.
Luckily, I discover that I have no bookings for today: clearly Mrs. Walters thought that “Mr. O.” would have tired me out.
She was right. While thinking about my night with Terrence fills me anew with arousal every time the image of his chiseled form crosses my mind, my body is exhausted. I can't even think about having sex again for a while.
A short while, anyway, I smile to myself.
So I'm surprised when I hear a knock at my door.
“Who is it?” I tense up, as I always do when hearing the knocking of a stranger. “What do you want?”
“Calm down,” the voice is exasperated. “It's just me.”
“Ben?”
“Let me in!”
It's good to see Ben again. Ben, the bartender at the Blue Room, and a former (and still part-time) Blue Boy, may not be Terrence, but he's at least someone I can count on: as long as I refuse his offers of Valium and Prozac: pills that make his life as a Blue boy easier, but, I learned the hard way when meeting Mr. X, cloud your judgment.
“Hey,” I say. “What's up?”
“Not a lot,” says Ben. “I just wondered...if you want to go out tonight.” His eyes are full of sadness, as they so often are. “Not...out...out – like the people at this place would ever let us go somewhere they aren't watching. But just downstairs to the Blue Room. I saw you don't have any bookings tonight. Neither do I. And after the week I've had.” He rolls his eyes. “Let's just say my clients aren't as charming as yours. The Never Knights are playing at the Blue Room. I figure we could knock back a few drinks, cheer ourselves up. What do you think, Staci?”
“Poor Ben...” I don't mean to say it out loud. “I wish you could just quit.” Life at the Blue Room always seems to be making Ben miserable.
“Oh, Staci,” he sighs. “You really don't get it, do you?”
“What?”
“You can't just quit the Blue Room. Nobody can. Once you're in, you're in for life...”
“But my contract says...”
“Screw your contract, Staci. You've been here for months. Are you really that naïve? Do you really think the Blue Room ever really lets anyone go? Knowing the secrets you learn, seeing the faces of the world's most powerful men contorted in ecstasy: your mind is a valuable commodity for these people. And they're never going to let you out of their sight. Not ever. The most you can hope for is to enjoy this gilded cage as long as you can. The free-flowing booze. The drugs. The cavier. The Lanvin dresses and the pretty highlights in your hair. Before you end up like Roz, or like...” his voice trails off.
“Like who, Ben?”
He shakes his head. “Never mind. I'm sorry. I shouldn't scare you. I've just had a rough week, that's all.” He forces a smile. “You'll be okay, kiddo. You're smart. Resourceful. You can make this place work for you. Maybe you'll do what I never could. So, what do you say, Staci? Drink?”
To be honest, all I want to do is lie down in my room and hide from the world for a little while. But Ben looks so miserable that I agree. After all, he's my friend, and friendship is a rare thing to find in the world of the Blue Room.
Ben picks me up at e
ight. I have done the best I can to look presentable, although I find myself less willing to spend time and effort on my appearance than I used to be. Makeup, pretty dresses – I associate all that with being “on the job.” A job I'd just as soon forget as often as possible. So I wear a nice pair of jeans, a silk top, minimal makeup. I put my hair up in a pony-tail. I even wear flats.
As soon as I walk into the Blue Room, I regret it.
I'd forgotten what an exclusive place this was. Women in sky-scraper-tall Louboutins, Manolos, furs, the works. You can barely see some of their faces under all that makeup. In the shadowy lighting you cannot make out the men, or who they are, but I'd be willing to wager a small fortune that the captains of industry are all here: famous businessmen, hedge fund guys, bankers, a famous actor or two.
Luckily, at least one table looks like it's composed of humans, not overly made up pod people. I take a few steps closer and realize that it's Never Knight – the only other girl wearing jeans in this place – sitting with her band: Danny Blue, Terrence Blue's devastatingly handsome half-brother, whose dark eyes and brooding stare look so strange when compared to Terrence's cocky grins, the lanky Steve, laughing with Neve at some joke, soulful Luc, who is looking into the crowd like he's searching for something who isn't there, and blonde-haired, angelic Kyle, who always looks like he's carrying so much pain in those blue eyes of his.
I've met them before, back when I was just a cocktail waitress, but now I'm almost embarrassed to approach them. Do they know what I really do for a living? Will they judge me for the person I really am?
I stand still, next to Ben, trying to decide whether to say hi, wishing I could at least look more confident than I felt.
Luckily, Neve doesn't give me the chance to turn back.
“Staci!” she waves. “Great to see you! Come over here!”
“You know her?” Ben looks at me in surprise.
“Both of you, come on! Have a drink with us!” Neve gives me a great big hug, smiling all the while. It's easy to be intimidated by her – she's rock royalty, after all, daughter of one legend and the frontwoman of another – but her genuine, sweet manner makes it easy to be with her. “Staci, it's been ages! The guys here are still talking about that time you sang for us – how come you never got us that demo?”
Murders, prostitution, finding my missing best friend. The usual distractions.
“I've been busy,” I say sheepishly.
“Well, hurry up!” Neve laughs. “We're all waiting on you! Who's your friend?” She gives me a little wink.
“Oh, no! This is Ben, my colleague.”
Neve scrunches up her face a little bit. “Right,” she smiles. “I remember you! You make those great old fashioneds.”
“You!” Steve almost leaps to his feet. “The cocktail whisperer.”
Ben's a little shy. “I look different without the uniform.”
“You made the best sidecar I ever had.” Steve smiles. “Come on, let me get you a drink for a change. You're going to have to tell me how you made that.”
Steve practically drags Ben up to the bar; Luc, Kyle, and Danny all follow them.
“Good,” Neve grins. “Gives us time for girl talk.” She nods at Ben. “Your boyfriend?”
“Not even a little,” I say. “Ben's more interested in a boyfriend of his own.”
“Ah,” she says. “I see.” She seems to have no idea what the Blue Room really is. “Well, he's still great company – and a great bartender to boot! Can I get you a drink? I'm staying off the sauce, myself – just honey and lemon for this sore throat...” She sighs. “I've got no idea how I'm going to sing in an hour. I feel like a frog's taken up permanent residence behind my tongue. But I hate to cancel – I just know that witch Roni's going to use it as an excuse to mess with the band...”
“Roni?”
At the sound of Roni's name, my ears prick up.
“Roni Taylor?”
“Roni Taylor Blue,” says Never. She leans in and whispers. “But you didn't hear anything bad about her from me. She's got way too much power in this town for me to risk pissing her off more than I already have by dating her ex.”
“You mean her stepson!”
“Roni has a thing for all the Blue boys,” Neve sighs. “Including mine.”
And mine.
“I don't understand,” I say. “Doesn't Clarence have a problem with that?”
“He did,” says Neve. “He was about to divorce her when he got sick. But now he's in this coma...the divorce can't go through. And Roni has power of attorney over all Clarence's affairs. Which means, as long as he's in this coma, she's the most powerful woman in Hollywood....” She breaks off, launching into a hacking cough.
“That sounds bad....”
“Ugh, I don't know what to do. I'm losing my voice. But the show must go on...and we can't play without a singer.”
Then she looks up at me, suddenly, and I see a strange gleam in her eye.
“Unless...”
Chapter 5
“Unless what?”
I don't like the look in Neve's eye. It's a shimmer of a glint: something that seems to be hinting I have an idea. And if it's the idea that I think she has, I'm definitely against it.
“Uh...Neve?”
She's looking at me with a fixed, intense grin. Her smile twists a little in her mouth.
“Neve, what are you talking about?”
“It's perfect...” she says, coughing up a bit more phlegm. “Oh, Staci, can't you see?”
“No...” I start. “No no no no no.” My life is complicated enough right now without adding more layers of details. I've given up on music – I've resigned myself to that. My dreams of pop stardom, of a normal life pursuing my dreams, are over. I can't get excited once again about the possibility of singing, only to get sucked back into the Blue Room. It's like Ben said, I think. All my choices are over. I don't have any way of getting out from underneath the Blue Room's thumb.
“But Staci,” her voice is sweet and coaxing. I can definitely understand how a girl like Never Knight has become rock's latest sweetheart. The girl could convince fire not to burn. She's looking at me with her big, dark eyes: an intense stare that makes me melt, just a little bit. “You're good. You're really good. I heard you.”
“I can't.” I wish I could explain why. I wish I could explain that I'm not just your average LA hopeful any longer. I'm a prostitute, a paid courtesan – a whore. I belong to the world of the shadows. I couldn't get out even if I want to.
“Why not? Come on, Staci – just for one show. You hear me hacking up my lungs, here. You know that I'm not fit to sing. So please, it would be a huge favor. Otherwise we'd have to cancel the show, and believe me, nothing would make Roni Taylor happier than seeing an empty stage tonight.” She shudders. “Gosh, I hate this place. I know Danny's a part-owner, so I shouldn't, but something about this bar gives me the creeps.”
I look down in embarrassment, hoping she doesn't see my face flush the way it does.
“I think it's Roni,” she says. “I feel Roni everywhere. I feel her presence here – like she's a ghost or something. Spooky, huh?” she gives a little laugh. “Come on,” she adds. “You don't like Roni either. I know that much. Don't you want to get one over on her?”
I allow my mouth to twitch at the corners – just a little – in a smile.
“What song are you playing?”
“Endless Love.” Neve leans in. “Do you know the words?”
“Of course I know the words!” 'Endless Love' is one of my favorite songs out there.
“Well then.” Neve says. “Boys!”
She calls over the rest of the band before I can stop them.
“Boys, it's settled,” she says. “Staci's taking over for me tonight.”
Danny looks at me suspiciously, and for a moment I wonder does he know? Does he recognize me?
“Aww, Neve – you're sick!” Kyle hovers over her like a concerned hummingbird. “Are you going to be okay
?”
“I'll be fine,” Neve says. “Now that I've found my temporary replacement.” She throws her arms around me, giving me a tight hug. “Thanks so much, Stace. I owe you one.” She kisses me smack on the cheek. “You'll do great, Stace. Knock 'em dead. Just make sure they don't completely forget me, okay?”
And with that, Luc, Kyle, and Steve are dragging me up to the stage.
For a second, it's like one of those nightmares. I'm barely even dressed up, let alone presentable to be onstage. And I'm about to sing a song I haven't even heard in months.
I really hope I remember the lyrics, I think.
But once the drum-beats start up, a sensual pounding that announces the languid velvety tone of the guitar, I feel a new kind of confidence stirring within my bones. My heart starts to beat in time with the music: a unity of my body and the wild melody that's surrounding me, wrapping itself around my skin, forcing the voice out of me.
We've known each other for a long, long while
But do I know you at all?
I know the way you look when you give me that smile
I know the way you look when you want me that way
But do I know the things that you and I don't say?
Do I know how you fall?
I'm singing the words – actually singing them out loud – and my mind is reeling from the unreality of it all, how strange it is.
I, Staci Atussi, am singing vocals for the Never Knights.
And the crowd is loving it.
My voice isn't like Neve's, I know that much. Hers is savage, raw. A rock voice: right for belting. She gets the crowd going wild, screaming in ecstasy the way they did for Stravinsky back when he wrote the Firebird, back when riots broke out in the streets of Paris over how savage art could really be.
But my voice is different. Sweeter, maybe, if I'm being vain. Higher. And I find myself making the song not an angry protestation against a mysterious boyfriend with a habit of disappearing on her, but a loving request. Mr. X's face floats in front of my eyes.
