by Robin Leaf
What? That little tattle-tale. I should be pissed, but I can’t find it in my heart at the moment to be angry at Fionny for his betrayal since this man is looking at me like he is.
Running my hands up his chest to his face, my fingers trail over the scruff on his jaw. It just makes him look that much hotter.
“I never was.”
“So now, there’s nothing stopping us from…” His baby blues find my eyes as he raises his hand to cup my cheek, stroking his thumb along my lower lip, “…dating.”
I swallow. “You want to… date me?”
Smirking, he nods once, moving so close, I can feel his breath on my mouth. “For starters.”
Holy shit, my stomach tumbles at the realization that I’m about to get the first kiss to end all first kisses, one that will curl my toes, melt my butter, and set my thighs on fire. I take a deep breath, knowing he’s about to take it away.
“Cristiana,” Tabitha, Ignacio’s personal tour assistant, says as she knocks. I forgot he sends her to check on everyone’s readiness right before each show. I push Noah away and stand, adjusting my robe as she opens the door. She looks back and forth between Noah and me with the usual wrinkled-nosed, judgy expression. “Uh, you have ten minutes.” She eyes Noah up and down. “Who’s this?”
Shanking this puta right now would be justifiable, right?
Noah saves her life when he steps forward, almost flush against my side, and apparently, assesses the situation correctly, throwing his most intimidating glare her direction. “I’m Joe’s and Fionn’s boss, Noah.”
A look of boredom graces her smug little rat face before she nods to my robe. “Shouldn’t you be dressed by now?”
“I will be,” I bark. “Noah was just explaining the plan for traveling home.”
Which means I don’t have to see your bitch ass again, hopefully ever.
I feel his laser eyes sear into to me before he turns to her.
“And I was just leaving.” He walks toward the door. “I’ll be the one to take you to the hotel tonight, Miss Calvillo.” His heated eyes find mine before he walks out. “Be ready.”
Santa mierda, that look… full of all kinds of naughty promises and innuendo. Oh, I’ll be ready, güero. I’m fucking ready now.
I turn my back to Tabitha so she can’t see my flushed face and heaving chest.
“Yes, well,” she hisses, grabbing the doorknob, “don’t keep Ignacio waiting, Christy.”
“It’s Cristi-ana,” I yell through the closing door.
As many times as I’ve corrected that pendeja, I know she knows my name. Yeah, she’s one of those girls, like the uppity ones on the dance team in high school. She’s made it clear she’s not a fan of mine. She even once complained to Ignacio that I was rude to her, which was only a reaction to her rudeness. Therefore, he asked me to stop. So I did. Sort of. Well, I toned it down… when there’s witnesses.
I dress quickly and head out to the wings.
“There you are,” Ignacio greets me and pulls me to into his arms, which is strange. He’s never just randomly hugged me before. Something feels tense about him.
He pushes back and begins pacing, seemingly a bit more jittery than he normally is before a show. I know he’s been amped up about performing in front of his hometown, although he has never explained why.
“Tabitha said you were running late.”
I smile to hide my snarl. “Nope, she’s wrong again.” I pat his collar down. “What’s up with you? You’re twitchy.”
The chick comes to hook up his mic.
“Look, Nana,” he rushes out. “I’ve got something a little different planned tonight for the encore.” He tucks in his ear piece. “Please, just… just go along with it.”
My eyes narrow at his odd request. “Does it involve a change in the choreography?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” He turns to me and grabs my hand, squeezing it a little too tightly. “Just agree and go with it, please.”
That’s twice he pleaded. Weird.
I nod before he leaves me to take the stage.
I used to love the scream of the crowd when the music starts, which is only made better when he takes the stage. Now, it’s just noise.
He starts his first song, the one he’s sung sixty times in a row. But something is slightly off about his voice tonight. The crowd doesn’t seem to mind; they just love him. However, I notice, and it’s concerning.
My cue is close, so I move into place. Like I’m summoned, I look to my right and lock eyes with those smoldering blue ones before I hit my mark. He looks at me the same way he did when he left my dressing room… like I’m in for it. I nod, hoping he gets that I’m returning that promise. That boy won’t know what hit him later.
Knowing he’ll be watching makes me feel an exhilaration I haven’t felt since the beginning of the tour. I’m taken back to my dad’s garage twelve years ago when I danced for an audience of one. I want to impress him, to show him how I’ve grown as a dancer.
Tonight, I enjoy the dancing more than I have in a while. Ignacio misses a couple of steps, but we cover well. It’s not the first time he’s been like this lately, so I anticipate his mistakes. I chalk it up to his nervous exhaustion. He’s been running ragged the last few months, and lately, he hasn’t been sleeping much. Plus, this is his last concert of the tour in front of his home crowd. That has to get to even the most seasoned professionals.
Judging by the sound of the audience, no one seems to notice the difference in him, but he’s getting worse as the show goes on.
I hurry through one costume change, barely taking in my surroundings. I have a spot behind the curtain that contains all my costumes. Teresa, the girl who helps me change, is in charge of it. It’s on the opposite side of the stage from where Noah stands; I can’t see him even if I tried. We have our ritual down to a science, so I get changed pretty quickly.
I dance to the next song, which is faster than normal. I think the band is trying to compensate for Ignacio, who’s rushing through everything. I need to keep my focus since Ignacio is off his game. This stops me from checking the side of the stage to see Noah’s reaction to the show, like how I used to check the audience when I was little to see if Mama was proud of me.
We get to “Llevame,” a song that always makes me think of Noah. It’s the other song we used for the group dance when he worked at the strip club. Ignacio and I do a very sultry bachata to the song, but he rushes the steps and misses a turn, which throws me off. Normally I can recover, but this mistake is obvious, and it seems to frustrate him further.
My legs straddle his thigh, and I wrap my arms around his neck, like I’m supposed to do for the next move, and whisper, “Relax,” in his ear. “Let me lead.”
He’s supposed to support me while I arch my back, but when he doesn’t, I almost fall on my head. Going completely off script, he pulls me to him forcefully, stopping the dance and abandoning his lyrics, and kisses me, grinding himself against me almost painfully. I’m momentarily stunned. He said he was going to do something different during the encore. We’re seven songs away from that. He’s kissed me on stage before, but never like this. It’s always been for the audience, flirty and platonic, usually on the cheek or forehead. Harmless. But this time… it feels like he means it. Like he more than means it. Like he’s trying to punish me for something.
I hear the cheers of the crowd, and I go limp, refusing to kiss him back, which makes him work harder to get me to engage. I resist the urge to fight him off me until I can no longer, placing my hands on his chest and pushing. He asked me to go with it, but this? I just can’t.
I manage to push away, and he stares at me, confused, like he can’t understand why I’m resisting.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, almost loud enough for his mic to register my words.
His confusion transforms into determination, but the wicked gleam in his eye causes my adrenaline to spike. He grabs both my hands before I can run off stage.
I plaster on a smile and rush off the stage.
Teresa is there, ready to help me.
“Teresa,” I plead, “find Joe and tell him something is wrong with Ignacio.”
She smiles nervously. “I already noticed and said something to Tabitha. She thinks he’s fine.”
I hold onto her shoulder, stepping into my other costume. “She can’t feel him shaking. Please, find Joe.” Adjusting my straps, I add, “Tell him I’m really worried.”
I head back to the side of the stage and listen for my next cue. Luckily, the next few dances are group ones, so the other dancers surround me, and I feel the safety in numbers.
We move into our positions, and I throw up a quick prayer we can at least get through this song without incident.
Although his voice is a little rough, Ignacio sings the next songs with us dancing around him almost like his normal self, smiling for the crowd, shaking his ass like he always does. I want to relax, thinking that he was just flustered because he screwed up, but something tells me not to.
Five songs later, we all hit our end poses, and the arena goes dark. We quickly move off stage into the waiting area, where Joe is waiting, positioned in his usual stance outside the room.
Gracias a Dios.
Once we’re in the room, Ignacio enters and turns to the others. “Out,” he orders, his voice low and demanding. They scurry away quickly. Once they are all gone, he steps up to me and snarls.
“You almost fucked this up for me, Nana,” he says through clenched teeth, grabbing my arm painfully and shakes me. “Why can’t you ever do as you’re told?”
I see something’s changed in his eyes; a dark, crazed look resides there. So I take a deep breath, responding calmly, so as not to poke the beast. “Nacho, let go. You’re hurting me.”
“You deserve so much worse –”
“Enough,” growls Joe, stepping over to us in two strides. He removes Ignacio’s hand from my arm and throws his body between Nacho and me. “You don’t put your hands on her.”
Ignacio struggles to get to me, while I just stand there, stunned. Joe pushes Ignacio against the wall, holding him there with his forearm.
“What the fuck is happening?”
With his other hand on his earpiece, Joe speaks to someone, I’m not sure who. “Turn up the house lights. The encore is cancelled. And get Fionn in here.”
“What?” Ignacio shrieks, struggling against Joe’s hold. “You can’t do that. It’ll ruin everything. What did you tell him, Nana? Did you tell them to do this? You found out, didn’t you? You knew what I planned and you want to ruin me?” His voice breaks and he hangs his head. “You agreed to this. You committed to this plan. You said you would do anything to help me. Did you fucking lie to me?”
Ignacio cries, wailing for a few seconds, a sound so pained, it breaks my heart in the process. Abruptly, he stops, and his face changes to a chilling expression.
“You’ve been cheating on me,” he growls. “That’s it. You’ve been cheating on me with Fionn, and you’re probably fucking Joe, too.” He pushes against Joe, trying to get to me again. “You’ve been fucking the band and the other dancers. Tabitha said you were. He agreed you were. They were right about you, weren’t they? You’re nothing but a fucking whore.” Joe pushes him harder against the wall. “He’s telling me to gut you, bitch. He wants me to fucking kill you.”
I feel arms around me leading me away, and I let them. I can’t see anything through the blur of tears.
“He didn’t mean that, Crissy,” Fionn says in my ear as he places me on the couch in my dressing room.
“Sounded like he did,” I whimper, wiping my eyes. “What’s wrong with him, Fionny?”
He settles next to me on the couch. “Joe and I thought he’s using again, but we have been watching him closely. We can’t tell where he’s getting the coke.”
“He’s been jacked up for a while now.” I sigh and sit forward, reaching up to begin pulling the bobby pins out of my hair. “I don’t think this is drugs. I think something’s wrong with him.”
He closes his eyes. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Where’s Noah?”
A pained look crosses Fionn’s face. “He had to leave.”
Now why does that hurt me more than anything?
Twenty Four
Noah
Forcing myself to casually walk out of her dressing room, I walk around the corner, lean against the wall, and try to shake off the need to go back and claim her, concert be damned. Smelling her, feeling her, getting so close to tasting those lips. Almost getting to give her the kiss that would make her think of no one else for the rest of her entire life. Closing my eyes, I rub the bridge of my nose.
I was fucking thwarted by a shrewish battle ax, who reminded me a lot of that evil chick whose name I can’t remember, the one who thought she was my date at that dance the first time I saw Cristiana.
Now I get to watch Cristiana from the sidelines, and if tonight’s performance is anything like those videos, she will be dancing very closely with another man, a man I served her to on a silver platter. Yeah, this might just be torture.
“You okay,” Fionn asks, grabbing my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “I need to know where I can post up for the show.”
He smiles. “I know just the spot.”
He leads me to the side of the stage, one that offers me a perfect view of every part of the maze of catwalks that crisscross the already-full arena. Ignacio’s set up is elaborate and complicated. I hope everyone performed multiple safety checks on this equipment before they go on stage.
My phone buzzes, so I check to see who’s calling. I don’t recognize the number and send the call to my voicemail.
Leaning back against the wall, I inspect the arena from my check point, looking for holes in the security. Fortunately, I find none in my quick scan, which is cut off when the lights dim and the music starts.
Ignacio takes the stage to a chorus of enthusiastically screaming fans. C’mon, people, it’s not like he’s The Beatles or Led Zeppelin.
Or Janet.
My phone buzzes a second time in my pocket, but I ignore it. There’s nothing that can’t wait until the show is over.
Ignacio begins singing and doesn’t sound near as good as he does on the radio. I’m not sure if it’s the acoustics or just him, but his fans are going crazy nonetheless.
A flash catches my eye, and I lock eyes with the woman who has ignited a fire deep within me. I never wanted a woman so badly in all my life. Her expression is one of fiery determination, and she nods to me, indicating that she will be dancing for me.
At least I hope that’s what it means.
Holy shit, she is stunning. Her movements, her precision, her control… it’s all so captivating, I can’t take my eyes off of her.
She leaves the stage for her first costume change. Try as I might, she’s hidden from me, so I get no glimpses of skin, which is good. It means no one else can see anything, either.
For the next few songs, every time she takes the stage, I have to remind myself to breathe. I’m back in that gym watching her for the first time. She’s bewitching. I could fall for her just by watching her dance.
She hits this pose where she slowly raises her leg until it’s by her ear, perpendicular to the ground, and all I can think of is how I want her in that pose later when I slide into her for the first time. Finally. I will be inside her tonight… if it kills
me.
My phone buzzes a third time, but I’m too transfixed to care.
I’m in awe of her talent, and honestly, a lot turned on. Noticeably so. If anyone were around me who cared to look, I bet they’d see the outline of my very hard, throbbing cock in my pants. I have to force myself not to reach down and stroke it.
God help me, “Llevame” begins, the song from the strip club days. She and Ignacio do some sexy couple dance to the song, so close, they might as well be having sex. He’s singing to her with a look I know all too well… desire. My own desire is morphing into something else… pure, unadulterated jealousy. I want to rip his arms off her, and then rip his arms off him for touching what only I should be allowed to touch.
He seems to miss something, and she stumbles slightly, looking confused, before she wraps her arms around his neck positions her thighs around one of his. She leans into him right as my phone buzzes again.
I decide I don’t need to watch anymore, so I pull my phone out of my pocket, moving deep into the tunnel leading to the dressing rooms. It’s the same number that called before.
“Noah Reed,” I growl into the phone, trying to convey how pissed I am for the continuous calling.
“Mr. Reed, this is Lori Baker,” she rushes out. “I’m a nurse at San Francisco General. You are Jason Heywood’s emergency contact and are the only one on record for holding his medical power of attorney. He has been brought into the ER.”
I run my free hand down my face. “What happened?”
“He’s suffered a possible heart attack. We’ll know more after the tests, but due to his history, the doctor wants to admit him to the C-ICU overnight.”
Shit. I hope he didn’t suffer this one from his conversation with Darla, or worse, trying to have the sex I encouraged him to have with her.
“Is Darla…” I search my memory for any mention of her last name and come up empty, “…a woman with him?”
“No, sir.” Fuck. “He was brought in alone. The doctor is very concerned that he might suffer another one since we can’t seem to get his heart rate under control, and he’s in A-Fib.”
