“You mean impersonal.”
Her insight surprised him. Not wanting to follow that line of conversation, he redirected. “What then?”
“What you’ve done for the women at the club is remarkable. And not just the dancers, but everyone involved, down to the cleaning and maintenance staff. Everyone there is a stakeholder in the business. They’re self-employed entrepreneurs.” She paused. “What you’ve done for them is life-changing.”
Van shook his head. “No. They did the work, made the right investments with their incomes.”
“With your help.”
He shrugged again and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, but she touched his face and forced his gaze to collide with hers. “They wanted better lives,” he said. “I wanted that for them, too, so I helped make it happen. It was nothing.”
“Which brings me back to my first question. Why? You care deeply about this. I can see it in your face when you talk about it.”
He eased her off his lap. “I have to go.” He reached around her to get his coat. As he went for his briefcase, she took it instead.
When she handed it to him, she said, “Can I see you later?”
And just like that, hope returned. After days of no contact with Di, he’d worked himself to exhaustion only to fall into a lonely bed and spend long nights dreaming of her. And now she was here, looking at him like she cared. Could they have a shot at normal?
He took the briefcase from her, but couldn’t help kissing her one more time. This time, his kisses were soft, brief, and full of longing. “Is this you asking?” he said, reminding her of their agreement.
Di kissed him again. “You already touched me without asking,” she pointed out.
“Di—”
“I’m asking, Van. I need you.”
Those three words coming from Di went straight to his heart. “Dinner tonight? I’ll have Richards pick you up at eight?”
“Yes,” she said, “but only if we go somewhere private so we can talk.”
He kissed her again and said, “If I get you alone, I’m not promising I’ll be in a talkative mood.”
“We’ll have all night,” she said in a soft, sexy voice that had Van wishing he could cancel the meeting for which he was now extremely late.
“You’re killing me,” he said.
“Go,” she said. Van opened the door and stepped outside, but looked back at her before closing the door. “Tonight,” she said, her words a promise he’d hold on to until he saw her again.
12
Back at the club, Di watched rehearsals, giving minor input, content to let Anne handle all the tweaks in choreography while she thought about her encounter with Van. The dancer finished her routine; a flawlessly performed dance of the seven veils. She wore a sheer, purple bikini, with sequined pasties that sparkled beneath. She stood in the center of a perfect circle she’d created with the veils. Her dramatic make-up made her look exotic and mysterious.
Anne clapped when the music ended. “Perfect, Julianna. How did that feel?” At this stage of the rehearsals, Anne and Di spoke with each of the dancers to make sure everything worked. The jewelry at the dancer’s wrists and on her feet jingled as she stepped off the stage.
“I feel . . . empowered,” Julianna said.
“How so?” Di asked, anxious to hear the dancer’s thoughts. Julianna was a young woman who began dancing at the club after dropping out of college to earn money to help pay medical bills for her mother who had breast cancer and no health insurance. With help from Van, her mother had gotten excellent care and was now in remission, and Julianna was back in school working towards a nursing degree.
“For the first time, I feel like I’m telling a story through dance. And this is a story of a woman who is comfortable in who she is, body, mind, and soul. She can command an audience with nothing more than her confidence.” She smiled. “It’s not about the dance, or the music, or the costuming. It’s about the woman. Me. I feel strong, powerful, and capable of accomplishing anything.”
“My God . . .” Anne breathed.
Di smiled, tears filling her eyes. This had been her goal. That the women would be so connected to what they were doing, they’d see themselves and the work they did here in a different light. “That’s the essence of burlesque,” Di said. “At its heart, it’s about empowerment and confidence. It’s also unforgiving. A woman who doubts herself, or lacks self-confidence, will give herself away. But you, my dear, are fierce and flawless.”
“Thank you,” Julianna said, also getting emotional. She took Anne’s hand and then Di’s. “I’ve danced here for two years, and I’ve been grateful for the income it gave me to take care of myself and my family. But I never felt like this when I stripped. Never. Thank you,” she repeated.
Anne pulled a handful of tissues from the box on the table she and Di had set up in front of the stage. “Oy vey. It’s been a day of joy and tears—in equal measures. I can’t take much more.”
“Good thing Julianna’s our last dancer.” Di looked at both women and said, “You know, in all my years of dancing, I’ve done some amazing things: opening nights on Broadway, dancing for the Grammys and the Academy Awards. But even with all those accomplishments, I’ve never felt this good about anything.” She laughed. “Good is a tame word for what I’m feeling right now.”
“What we’ve done here, what we are doing here, is special,” Anne agreed.
“I feel like I can conquer the world,” Julianna said. “Like I can do anything.”
“You can do anything.” As Di said the words, she felt the same way. Like she could accomplish anything. Whether she danced again on Broadway or not didn’t matter. This project had shown her she had more to contribute. “Anne, I want to be a director.”
“You are a director. What you’ve done with this show has proven it.”
“You really think so?”
“After what we’ve seen today, how can you doubt it? You’ll be a brilliant success!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Julianna added. “Is this the first show you’ve put together?”
Di nodded.
“Then you’re a natural,” Julianna said.
“Ms. Jenson?” The women turned towards the club manager as he approached.
Julianna slipped into her robe. “If that’s all, I’ll go change.”
Di squeezed the woman’s hands and smiled. “You’re ready. I can’t wait to see the dance on Saturday night.”
“Thank you again.”
As the dancer retrieved her scarves, Di and Anne turned to Sam. “This was just delivered for you.”
He handed Di an envelope and left. She opened it, pulled out the card, and sat heavily as she read.
“What?” Anne said.
“Nothing,” Di said, tamping down her disappointment as she put the card back into the envelope. “My plans tonight canceled.”
“Plans? Do tell.”
Di tossed the card aside. “Dinner with Van.”
“Van?” Anne said, surprised. “The incredible missing man?”
“Yeah. I decided to go to the mountain—his office.”
“Wow.” Anne propped a hip against the table. “And did you get the answers you wanted?”
“He had a meeting, so no. But when he suggested dinner tonight, I thought—” She shook her head and crossed her arms. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter now. He had to go out of town on business.”
“So suddenly?”
She cut her eyes to Anne. “What are you saying?”
Anne shrugged. “Maybe he wasn’t up for an interrogation.”
Feeling defensive, Di said, “He has kept the details about how he runs this place pretty quiet.”
“And we’d all love to know why,” Anne added.
“He said it’s personal.”
“Well, that’s frustratingly non-specific.” She poured water from the pitcher for herself and Di. “He’s really working the strong, silent type angle. I mean, think about it. He gav
e you access to a lot of the information by bringing you on to work here, and then he just disappears so you can’t ask questions to fill in the blanks? Makes a girl wonder.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Well, you did have quite a low opinion of him because of the club, and now that you’re seeing him differently, maybe it’s too little too late. I mean, it’s like he expected you to give him the benefit of the doubt despite all the damning evidence to the contrary.”
“So his pride’s hurt?”
“I think it goes deeper than that. I think he wanted you to want him, the man, despite his association with this club. And now that we know he’s fabulously wealthy, it stands to reason he still wants you to want him for himself.”
“And isn’t that what anyone would want?” Di said, feeling awful.
Anne speared her with a look. “Right.”
“Shit,” Di said. She couldn’t fix a first impression.
“Still, aren’t you just dying to know why he’s held on to this club when getting rid of it would completely change any and all negative perceptions of him?”
“Yes.” Di tried to roll the tension out of her neck. “I’m dying to know, but if he won’t give us answers, who can?”
“Not the employees. They’re loyal and wouldn’t betray his trust, that is, if they even have answers.”
“Who then?”
“Family?”
“From what I’ve learned, he’s an only child. His mother died when he was in high school, and he went to live with his father. He may have some half-brothers or sisters, but I doubt they’re close. He told me he didn’t get along with his father or his family.” Di stood and paced from one side of the room to the other. “After the way we left things today, I hoped he’d talk to me, but if I’ve hurt his pride, that could be a long shot.”
“We may never know, unless you can pin him down.” Anne wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Yeah. The thought occurred to me,” she admitted. In fact, she’d been more than willing, but he’d had that damn meeting.
Anne let out a little squeal. “That’s my girl. So go to him.”
“He’s out of town, remember? I don’t know where he is, and even if I did, unlike Van, I don’t travel on private jets.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“We’re finished here, right?”
Anne nodded. “We’ve seen all the dances except for yours.”
Di gathered her things and put them in her bag. “Bettie Page was a terrible dancer.”
“It’s the pin-up girl concept, not a re-creation of an actual dance she did.”
“It’ll come together,” Di said, evading.
“I seem to remember the last time you tried choreographing your own dance I had to rescue you.”
“The show works without me. I don’t need to dance.” Di grabbed her coat.
“Except for it seems to be the only way you’re guaranteed to get Van alone.”
Di looked up at her friend. “Just because it worked once, doesn’t mean it’ll work again.”
“So, you’re giving up.”
Di shrugged into her coat. “I don’t know,” Di said, frustrated. “I need to get out of here, rethink things.”
“You want to get a drink?”
“Thanks, but I just want some time alone.”
“All right. See you tomorrow?”
“Of course. It’s dress rehearsal.”
Anne nodded. “Performance is in two days,” she said, sounding nervous and excited.
“We’re ready.” Di hefted her bag onto her shoulder. “Do you need a ride?”
“No, thanks. I have a few more things to finish up here.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
Richards sat at the bar playing a game on his cell. When he saw Di approach, he said, “Ready to go, Ms. Jenson?”
“Yes.”
He took her bag and walked with her to the rear exit. “Where to?”
“Home, please.” She needed a hot bath, wine, and some dinner, not necessarily in that order. Out in the alley, she asked, “Richards, Mr. Vanzant had to go out of town this evening. You wouldn’t happen to know where he went, would you?”
The driver shook his head. “No. I’m sorry.”
He opened the rear door of the town car, and after Di got in, she dug in her bag for her phone. She scrolled through her recent calls until she found where Van had called her a couple of weeks back to tell her to call off dancing at the club. Without hesitating, she pressed, “Call.” After four rings, she expected to get Van’s voicemail, but he picked up.
“Hello?”
“Van? Hi, it’s Di.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I recognized the number.”
“Are you in a meeting?”
“Yes, but I stepped out. Everything okay?”
“Yes. Everything is on track for the show launch on Saturday.”
“Good,” he hesitated, and they both spoke at the same time.
“Di—”
“Van—”
Di laughed. “Sorry. You first.”
“I’m sorry I had to cancel our dinner.”
“You sound tense.”
“Yeah. The people on the other side of this deal are being difficult, and unfortunately, I’m not in the mood to be charming.”
Di laughed, relieved he hadn’t canceled their dinner for the reason she’d feared.
“What? You don’t think I can be charming?”
“I’m trying to imagine it,” she admitted honestly. “Look, Van, I know you’re busy, but I need to apologize.” She rushed on before he could speak. “I was wrong about you, or at least, I think I was.”
“Okay . . .” he said, sounding cautious.
“We got off to a rough start, and that was my fault. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry for that, and I’d like to start over—get to know you better. If you’re willing.”
A long pause and then, “I’m willing.”
Di let out the breath she’d been holding. “Can you accept my apology?”
“Of course.”
This was going better than she could have hoped, so Di forged ahead. “And would you be willing, at some point, to tell me why the club is personal to you?” Another long pause—this one longer than the first, but Di waited, hoping he wouldn’t hang up.
“That depends,” he said at last.
“On what?” Di said cautiously.
“If I don’t answer your questions about my involvement with the club, will you still want to be with me?”
She might be slow, but she was beginning to get it. “You don’t trust me yet.”
“It’s not something I talk about, Di,” he admitted. “With anyone.”
The pain she heard in his words made her heart ache for him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”
“You can let it go?”
“It’s your story to tell,” she said. “When you’re ready.”
Another moment passed before he said, “Thank you.”
She smiled to herself. “When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure,” he said grimly. “I have to close this deal, so I’ll be here as long as it takes.”
“Here being?”
“Detroit.”
“So we shouldn’t expect you back for the launch on Saturday?” she asked, disappointment weighting her words. She couldn’t imagine him not being there.
“I’m sorry. Look, they need me back in the room.”
“Okay. Thanks for taking my call.”
“Di, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll see you then,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “’Bye.”
“’Bye,” he said and disconnected the call.
Di looked out the windows at the lights of passing cars. The possibility of being in a relationship with Van, of spending her nights with him, bloomed in her mind and she smiled, happy knowing that when he came back to town, they’d have a sho
t. Yesterday she’d been deep into trying to figure Van out. Today, she knew he wanted her in his life, at least for now. She smiled, happy. She had feelings for Van. There. She’d admitted it. And unless her intuition was completely off, he had feelings for her, too. Two weeks ago, she’d had a life she thought she wanted as a successful dancer on Broadway. Now, she felt like she could confidently embrace a new life: one where she’d have a new career and a man in her life.
As she walked up to her apartment, she felt like she was walking in a dream. One she hoped would become a reality.
13
Saturday evening, Di should have been nervous, but she felt oddly calm. The scent of roses filled her dressing room thanks to the enormous bouquet Van had sent along with a bottle of champagne. The card read, “Break a leg.” She would have preferred it to say, “See you soon.”
She hadn’t heard from him since they’d talked two days ago. Unable to stay in the room, she went in search of the club manager. When she found him, he was doing last minute checks of equipment for the staff. “Sam, hi,” she said. “Nice crowd.” She glanced around the room noting that most, if not all, of the tables were filled.
“Capacity and they’re lined up around the block, which is not unusual. Everyone seems curious about the new show.” Sam kept checking the handheld devices and handing them to the staff lined up at the bar.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re busy, but have you heard from Van? Will he be here tonight?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Jenson. I haven’t spoken with him.”
Anne joined Di at the bar. Anne wore a red satin mini dress with lace cutouts that looked more like a slip than a dress. “Doing a bit of investigating?” she asked quietly. “You look stunning, by the way. Is that silk?”
Di nodded. She’d picked up the black floor-length halter dress yesterday. From the front, it looked like a form-hugging sheath. From the side and back, it was all together something else. The dress connected in the center of her back with a silver clasp, leaving her back bare to the waist. There were two matching clasps over the hip connecting the sides of the dress and leaving a bare line of skin from the floor to her breast.
Dared: Scandalous Moves Series Page 8
