“Chase.” He took a sip of his coffee. “That Chase Newman you’re talking about. Sister by the name of Chastity?”
Emily stopped with the cup halfway to her lips. “Yeah. How do you know them?”
“O-Oh,” Joseph stumbled over the word, “I don’t. Not personally at least. But we fly in similar circles. I’m a lawyer.”
“Then I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this.” Trust her to run into the one guy who knew Chase.
“Emily, do you believe in fate?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have time to consider spirituality. What with the murder, the custody battle and an abusive ex-husband to deal with.” At least her humor had come back.
“I do. There’s a reason we bumped into each other today. Know what that is?” He leaned in with his conspiracy theory or anecdote, but Emily wasn’t in the mood for games.
“What?” She asked, flat as a pancake.
“Serendipity,” he answered, immediately. “See, I happen to possess a certain set of skills. They include dealing with abusive ex-husbands and custody battles. I won’t be able to help you with your guy problem, but I’ll sure help you legally.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t afford a lawyer of your caliber.”
“So, I’ll do it pro-bono. Consider it a thank you for helping me pick up my papers, or an apology for knocking you off your feet.”
“I can’t acc –”
“Of course you can,” Joseph interrupted and patted her arm, “And you will.”
Hope sprang up in her chest. With the prospect of getting her kids back in the offing, the dreary clouds pulled back. She’d be able to manage those interviews, she’d have a future to look forward to with Becci and Jared.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.” He gave her a warm smile and she offered him a watery one in return. Could it be? Could she really have run into a kind soul?
“You don’t want anything in return?” She asked, wary of the answer.
“Nothing but the pleasure of helping out a new friend.”
Emily considered for a moment longer. She didn’t deserve this help, but she was happy it had come. “All right,” she said, then finished off the dregs of her coffee. He asked for the bill, then paid it with a generous tip.
“I’ll give you a lift back to your place.” Joseph said with a smile, and Emily’s heart lifted.
There were good people in the world after all. Hopefully she was one of them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emily clasped the pole and stared above their heads.
The slow rhythm of the music beat through her soul, touching her cells, inspiring the movement she’d use to win them over.
This was different from the club.
This was different from life.
This was her expression, her desire, her pain. Every emotion she’d ever felt flowed through her body, and she could control it as she wished. Dance was the control she sought, the truth about every situation presented itself when she was in motion.
She’d chosen Shot Me Down by Skyler Grey and David Guetta. It was upbeat, almost impossible to perform to if you didn’t know what you were doing.
There were three adjudicators and they held her fate in their hands. She’d never wanted a job as badly, but Janet had likely given her a terrible reference.
She had nothing to lose.
Emily swung one leg around the pole and began her dance, performing as she’d never done.
Bang, bang, he shot me down. Bang, bang, I hit the ground.
Emily’s back hit the dance floor. She flipped herself upwards and connected with the pole. She’d chosen this form of dance as a message to herself and to them.
They watched her, faces blank and she accepted the fact she wouldn’t get it.
“That’s enough,” said the woman in the middle. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun and streaked with silver. She had the nose of a hawk and eyes to match.
The music cut off and Emily swung back to her starting position. So much for the audition.
“That’s quite enough, quite enough.” She turned to the men on either side of her, but they didn’t make any gestures which Emily could pick up on and interpret. “I think we’ve seen enough of your style.” She glanced to the side.
“Yes, more than enough,” said a guy with a Mohawk on the end.
“I can show you another style if you need me to. It won’t be a problem.” But of course they’d say it wouldn’t be necessary because they’d clearly made up their minds.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary. I do believe we’ve seen enough to make a decision.”
“All right,” she replied, then tucked her hands behind her back, before loosening that grip and settling it on the pole instead.
“I see you worked for Janet.”
Ah, and so it began.
“That’s correct. I felt it was time to move to a bigger studio. I enjoy teaching. The more, the merrier.” She cut off short and held her breath. There was no point selling herself if they’d already made their decision.
“Yes, well, the bigger the studio, the bigger the responsibilities,” the man on the end said. He had muscles for day, the Mohawk and a tight pink tank top. Best guess: he was the current pole dance teacher.
“Do you specialize in other dance forms? Or is it just the pole?”
“You name it, I’ll dance it and I will succeed at it.” Emily had more confidence in her dancing than in any other facet of her existence. This was as simple as breathing. It was as involuntary. “I’ve done a bit of ballet, tap, modern, samba, salsa, and waltz – though I haven’t really gone into detail with those last few. Just the basics of teaching.”
“Hip Hop?” That came from the black guy on the end, with his cap tilted to the side and a pair of sunglasses on. He looked like the kind of dancer she’d get on with.
“Hell yes.” Emily let go of the pole and let her hands hang at her sides.
“And your resume indicates a keen interest in ballroom dancing,” said the hook-nosed teacher. “Never tried the Venetian Waltz?”
“That’s correct. I didn’t get the opportunity at Janet’s, but I’d love to learn and eventually teach if that’s an option.” Emily laughed internally. It wouldn’t be an option because she wouldn’t get these jobs. These three were blatant hard asses, but why toy with her? “As for the Venetian Waltz, I can’t say I have. But it’s another dance I’m exceptionally interested in learning. If there’s an opportunity, of course.”
“Of course,” the Mister in the pink tank top inserted with a small smile. “There are many opportunities to take advantage of at this studio.”
He couldn’t mean that she’d got the position. That was impossible. Janet hated her, she would’ve left a scathing review at best just to get the final.
“Then we’d love to have you on board,” the woman said with a smile. “Your dancing is fantastic, but the phenomenal feedback and recommendation we received from Janet pushed us over the edge.”
“Pardon?”
“You’ve got it!”
“I – Thank you, that’s awesome news.” Emily gushed and hugged herself. This was unbelievable. The last thing she’d expect was to make it into the most reputable dance school in New York.
Janet had given her a good recommendation. It was probably to be rid of her, but it didn’t matter. This was the start of a brighter future, and with Joseph’s help, she could get her kids back and start afresh.
The dawn of that future overwhelmed her and she turned away to hide the tears.
“She’s not happy,” Mr. Mohawk said.
“I’m over the moon,” she put in quickly and turned back to them. She’d never been happier in her life.
“Then welcome to the studio. I’m Tess,” the tight-lipped woman said, then gestured to the guy in the pink shirt, “and this is Chico,” she paused again and motioned to her right, “and Boss.”
&n
bsp; “Thank you. I can’t thank you enough.” There weren’t enough words in the dictionary to express how she felt about it, but grateful was a good start. This was a beacon for her and it was just the beginning.
“Be back here tomorrow at 6 AM sharp,” Tess gave a sweet smile and Emily nodded rapidly.
“You bet!” Then she turned and left the studio, buoyed up by her excitement, brimming with a new hope she didn’t want to believe in with all her heart.
And throughout it, all she could wander was: did she deserve it?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emily skipped down the stairs two at a time and burst into the street. It was the exact opposite to the exit she’d made from Chase’s building a few days earlier. She was uplifted, raring to go. Nothing could stop her now.
She bumped into a young woman in ballet tights just outside the front door to the building. “Hey, watch where you’re going,” the ballerina said.
“Sorry! Have a nice day,” she replied with a grin and sauntered off.
Pigeons fluttered at her feet, the sun shone behind a thin blanket of clouds, and a light breeze tickled her neck. It was a good day.
She took out her phone and browsed through the numbers. Joseph would probably be busy, but it was worth a try. The sooner she got the ball rolling, the better. Liberating the kids from Brian was her first priority.
Amanda’s picture flashed on her screen and she frowned. Why was she calling? She hadn’t bothered contacting Emily for years.
Emily clicked the green button and placed the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Emily,” Amanda whispered it into the phone, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. This didn’t sound good. She strolled off to one side in the busy street and stood beneath the material overhang of a butcher’s shop.
“Amanda, hi, are you all right?”
Hysterical sobbing answered her and those hairs tried to wriggle their way out of her skin.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
The butcher came out and studied her for a moment, but she waved him away irritably. He huffed and disappeared back into the depths of his meaty store.
“I lost the baby.”
Whoa. Two and two made four in Emily’s brain and she slapped a hand to her forehead.
“You were pregnant. Why didn’t you say something?”
“What could I say?” Amanda’s voice cleared for a moment. “You’re my husband’s ex-wife. I’m not supposed to talk to you at all.” She dissolved into grief again.
“Start from the beginning. What happened?”
“I found out a couple weeks ago, but I didn’t know what to tell Brian. You know how he feels about –” she choked up and petered off.
“Yes, I’m aware.” Brian had been absent during her pregnancies, disinterested in the babies or her, or anything to do with the ‘magical’ time. It’d been one of the worst times in their relationship, sandwiched between other crap times.
Overall, the whole marriage had been a sham, perpetrated by Brian’s needs as a politician and a man. His egocentrism knew no bounds.
“Talk to me, Amanda, tell me what happened. I’m here for you.”
But the woman was still hysterical.
“All right, that’s it, I’m coming over there.”
“No! Please, you can’t do that. He’ll lose his mind if he sees you on the tapes again.” Amanda’s resolve had clearly cracked. Maybe she’d realized her mistake in marrying the prick.
“Spill it. Let me help you.”
“All right,” she murmured, her footfalls on the end of the line came a moment later, then the slam of a door and a key turning in a lock. “I found out about it and I was too afraid to tell him right away. I didn’t know how he’d take it and I’d already decided I wanted to keep the baby,” she wailed the last few words.
“Easy, easy. Please continue.”
“Last night I decided to tell him. And I’ve never seen him so mad,” she said, voice trembling and breaking, “he lost it completely.”
“What did he do?”
“Started screaming, called me a slut.”
What a piece of work. “What did you do?”
“I cried. And I told him I wanted to keep the baby.”
“I bet that went down well,” she murmured.
Amanda burst into tears again and replied, “He told me to get an abortion. He went on his tablet, horrid fucking thing, and started scrolling through numbers and messages. Then he went to the study.”
“To the study? Why?”
“I followed him to find out and overheard him talking to some doctor. He was organizing a date and time for me to get the baby aborted.”
She’d expect no less from Brian Ross, but it did seem he’d hit an all-time scum-sucking low.
“Please tell me you didn’t go through with it, Amanda. You don’t have to do what he tells you to. You realize that’s abuse, right?”
“I didn’t go through with it.”
“But then how did you lose the… oh no. No.” Emily shook her head, denying it and stepping further back, towards the glass front window of the store. People hurried past, ignorant of Amanda’s plight or of Emily’s for that matter.
“I walked into the study and asked him what he thought he was doing.” Amanda obviously needed to get it out, to tell Emily the truth before she shut down again and refused to believe there was anything wrong with her beloved marriage, her beloved congressman.
“That must’ve taken balls.”
“He just stared at me like I was crazy with this look on his face. God, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Emily was sure she’d seen that look before. She shuddered.
“He got up and told me to shut up or he’d make me regret it. And I asked him why he was acting this way. Doesn’t he want the baby? Doesn’t he want us to start a family of our own? Doesn’t he love me?” She half-shrieked then toned down again. “But he didn’t answer, he just got up and told me if I didn’t do it, he’d leave me for good. I couldn’t let that happen, you have to understand that. I can’t lose him.”
Why the hell not? The man was a rabid dog. He wasn’t fit to be a father.
“I went a few days ago. Woke up this morning and it happened. The bleeding and pain. It’s over. My baby is gone, Emily, my baby is gone!” She screamed it into the phone.
“You need to relax. I know it’s tough, but you have to calm down and gather your thoughts. You can’t stay there, Amanda, it sounds like he’s even more deluded than when we were together.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Get out. Get out now.” Emily commanded.
“I can’t.” Amanda’s voice hardened. “I love him.”
Then it was pointless talking to her. If she didn’t have a sense of her own wellbeing, and put that creature before it, then she was as weak as Emily had suspected all along. What could she do? Take it out of Amanda’s hands? She’d only end up getting killed at this rate.
“Then I can’t help you.”
The line went dead.
CHAPTER NINE
Emily stared at the phone in her hand for a few minutes. Brian’s depravity knew no bounds. This had gone too far. He’d forced Amanda into an abortion and if he had that little disregard for her, and his unborn child, then there wasn’t a slim chance he was an appropriate on her children.
It was time to liberate them.
She searched for Joseph’s number, but she shook with anger. Her mind was consumed with a desire to lash out at the man who’d started this. Who’d driven her over the edge and turned her own mother against her.
This was a final straw. Or one of the thousands of final straws. She’d been a camel for two damn long.
She found Brian’s number and hesitated. This might not be the wisest course of action. But what the hell.
She dialed and the phone rang on the other end.
“Brian Ross speaking, how may I help you?”
“You can help me
by relinquishing custody of my children, you prick.” It was the worst she’d said to him thus far, and it etched satisfaction into her memory.
“Who is this?”
“Are you some special kind of stupid?” Emily paced back and forth, glancing into that damn butcher’s every now and again. The guy was behind the counter in his white overalls, one eyebrow raised and holding a cleaver.
He slammed it down into a carcass and separated off a joint for hanging.
“Emily,” Brian answered with a grunt. “What do you want, girl?”
“I want my children and I’m calling to tell you I won’t stop until I get them. Do you understand me, Ross?”
“I understand that you don’t have a hope in hell and that this was a total waste of my time. Goodbye now.” Brian’s voice faded as he moved to hang up.
“I know what happened with Amanda!” She blurted it out, raising her voice a few decibels so he’d hear her for sure.
“What?” Brian asked in a clear monotone. That’d caught the bastard’s attention.
“I know what happened with Amanda.” Emily repeated it super slowly, so that the gravity of that knowledge would sink in.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Goodbye now.”
“Oh, so then that hysterical phone call I received from your wife was a fake out?”
Brian’s breath hissed into the earpiece and Emily moved it from her ear for a second. Mr. Perfect was angry.
“What are you talking about?”
But he didn’t sound so self-assured any more. His balloon head had deflated a bit now. That was good for her.
“You made Amanda get an abortion. Now, I wonder how that would look in a custody battle. Or in the papers for that matter.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he answered, but there was such contained rage in his tone than shivers spiraled up and down her back. Bursts of laughter and conversation echoed in the background. He was at work, all right, and she had him right where she wanted him.
Never Say Never, Part Three (Second Chance Romance, Book 3) Page 3
