by K. K. Allen
We had one month ahead of us before I had to worry about getting on that boat for ship rehearsals, and by the look of everything today, we had our work cut out for us. The New York show had to be adapted to a smaller stage with different lighting and a slightly smaller cast. But those were logistics the dancers didn’t need to worry about quite yet. We would be in the studio all week, working with the show’s choreographer, a three-time Tony-award winner for best choreography.
Between rehearsals, I’d been doing all the research possible on what I could do to cope with my anxiety, which included a trip to some hypnotherapy sessions that Sebastian set up for me, where the doctor also prescribed medication for possible motion sickness and anxiety. I didn’t know if any of it would help, but I would do my best to prepare.
Some encouraging articles online mentioned what Wayne had pointed out about the ship, that I wouldn’t even be able to tell that I was on water and that I could steer clear of the perimeter of the ship if I absolutely needed to. But I wasn’t even sure if I was terrified of the cruise ship itself or of the thought of being surrounded by memories of what had happened.
When I found out the ship would be at sea for only four days, stopping in Mexico and returning to LA every Sunday to dock for a few days, my nerves settled some. But that didn’t last long.
I hadn’t yet begun to think about the art of dancing in heels on a rocking boat until Melanie, one of my fellow dancers, recounted a story about one of her shows gone bad, when the ship had encountered some rough waters, turning her pas de bourrée turn into a wobbly tap dance before she bit it right in the middle of the stage.
“It happens,” she added with a sympathetic smile. “The passengers always comment on how impressed they are that we can balance on heels while the ship is swaying.”
My stomach knotted with each story that came next, of dancers experiencing similar turbulence. “Does that happen a lot? Rough waters?”
I expected them all to assure me that it was a very rare occurrence, but instead, they all nodded. “Oh yes. There’s more turbulence in the front and back of the ship, and that’s usually where the theaters are located.”
By the time lunch came around, my insides were all coiled with a new worry, one my doctor probably couldn’t fix with a mind-numbing pill. I would break my neck on that dance floor if the sea sickness didn’t get me first.
While everyone headed to the community center at Gravity for lunch, I went the other way, through the front doors, down the large concrete staircase, and down the street to find the nearest coffee shop where I could grab a steaming cup in order to decompress and get my shit together. I was running out of time.
I was so focused on my destination that I didn’t expect the roar of an engine that pulled up beside me next. Without looking, I knew who it was. Warmth rushed over my body at the thought of him chasing after me. Then I remembered that all he cared about was the fact that I was solving some mysterious problem for him by joining the show, and my excitement deflated.
“Get on.”
I let out a laugh, refusing to look in his direction. “Fat chance.”
A helmet thrust out toward me.
“Take it and get on, Kai. You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”
I could have made a retort about how I was safer walking through a construction zone than with him, but I wasn’t so sure that was true anymore. He’d made a good point at the party. I couldn’t continue to recall the jerk he’d been to me on that first day we met since he’d only been helpful thereafter.
“I’ll go slow, I promise,” he said when my steps slowed.
My heart was pounding fast. I wasn’t sure if the reaction was caused by his words coming from a caring place or by the simple fact that he was insistent that I join him. The truth was I wasn’t afraid of the motorcycle. I was afraid of the man on it.
I sighed and took the helmet in my hand before finally daring a glance at the bad boy himself. A spark of a challenge gleamed in his ocean-blue eyes, and I couldn’t help but stutter over my next breath. He was gorgeous—strikingly so—and I didn’t think I could deny him this simple thing.
So I placed the helmet on my head, pushed the plastic connector together to lock it tight, and then swept a sheer nylon leg around the seat of his bike.
“Hang on tight.”
I swallowed and did as he said, familiarizing myself with the feel of his leather jacket against my skin as my arms snaked around his middle and locked together in front of him. My thighs squeezed tightly around his, then I took a deep breath to try to steady my raging nerves.
“You good?” He looked over his shoulder, catching my eyes through the mirrored front of the helmet. The way his stare locked on mine told me not even this solid barrier could stop him from seeing me.
A shiver shook my shoulders despite the fact that the temperature was eighty degrees. Did he see me? Could he? Every encounter I’d had with Sebastian was filled with intense emotions I hadn’t even wanted to make sense of. I couldn’t afford to. Sure, the banter was fun, but it couldn’t be more than that. He knew it too, hence the pact to protect us both.
We rode to a small café a few miles away and parked on the curb. We filled a cardboard carton with salad and sides, weighed our food, and paid. I didn’t fight with Sebastian this time as he handed the woman on the other side of the counter his card to pay for us both. My finances were already better since rehearsals had started and I’d earned my first paycheck, but I still appreciated his offer.
As we walked across a park with tall trees and picnic tables scattered around, I couldn’t help but feel gratitude for everything he’d done.
“Thank you,” I said without looking at him even though I could feel him waiting for me to. “For the job, for the food.” I shrugged. “I know you’re only being nice to me because I joined the cast, but I want you to know I appreciate it.”
Then I looked. I felt a pull between us, a magnetism I couldn’t ignore for long. This time, the broad smile I was met with stole my breath. His eyes shone with gratitude, and shallow dimples popped in his cheeks. God, no wonder I was always afraid to look at him. He was arresting in the worst—and best—possible way.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
My cheeks heated as I looked away. “It was pretty painful, actually.”
He chuckled then stopped when we made it to a clearing. “This okay?”
“This is fine.”
We sat on a bench across from one another and stabbed at our leaves and pasta in silence for the first few minutes, but I couldn’t stay silent long. “You and Dirk don’t get along.”
“That obvious, yeah?”
I nodded. “To everyone.” Then I swallowed air before repeating what I’d heard before rehearsals the other day. “Is it true you slept with his wife?”
Sebastian’s expression transitioned from calm to cool to full-blown laughter before he shook his head. I didn’t know why I felt comfortable asking him such a personal question—maybe because of all the help he’d given me to overcome my anxiety. But now that the words were out, I wished I could retract them.
“Wow. Is that the rumor going ’round? The crew has me pegged as the bad bloke who goes about where he shouldn’t?”
Embarrassment lit up my gut. “I-it’s what I heard. I’m sorry, Sebastian. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m glad you did.” His quick words bled with sarcasm. “Now I know the things you all say behind my back.”
Despite his rising anger, hope manifested within me. “So it’s not true, then?”
His eyes snapped to mine, causing my heart to surge into my throat. I didn’t know why I cared so much I couldn’t let it go, but I did. And the fact he’d gotten so defensive about it told me a deeper mystery existed. For some reason, I wanted to know Sebastian wasn’t this playboy the world had pegged him to be.
“What if it is true, Kai? Will you think differently about me then?”
I opened my mouth, but words woul
dn’t come. My thoughts were jumbled, and I had no idea what to say or think next. I hadn’t wanted to offend him. To an extent, I thought we’d become friends. However, I knew the word “friends” was a bit of a stretch. We’d definitely grown comfortable with each other, but apparently not comfortable enough.
“Well, it is true.” Sebastian stood, closed his container of food, and tossed it in the trash.
My heart sank.
“I’m going for a walk. We’ll leave when I get back.”
“Sebastian,” I said, standing and hoping to stop him.
Had I really pissed him off that much that he had to leave? But he waved me away, adjusted his leather jacket, and walked off.
Well, shit. Maybe the bad boy of Broadway wasn’t such a bad boy after all.
Chapter 12
Sebastian
I don’t know what pissed me off more: the question or the truth in my response. I should have known Kai would start hanging around the cast and believe every word of their gossip, which was derived from only one side of the story, and that side was not mine.
The fact that the story hadn’t made the tabloids didn’t help me at all, not when the rumor mill behind the Broadway scene was strong. The truth didn’t matter when everyone wanted to believe the lies. The real story would’ve blown their minds.
“All right, pack it in. Time we buggered off.”
I’d just returned from my walk, and I knew I’d only stirred confusion in her by getting so upset, but she didn’t ask for me to explain. Instead, she righted her strong shoulders, stood, and tossed the remains of her lunch in the trash. Like me, she’d barely eaten any of it. Then she started toward my bike without a word.
I shouldn’t have offered her a ride to lunch to begin with. I hadn’t thought twice about the gesture, but we hadn’t really talked since the party, and I was curious how she’d been getting on with the cast. I’d half expected her to get cold feet over the whole getting-on-a-ship thing and run the other direction, and I was pleasantly surprised that she hadn’t.
But I should have rethought my invitation to lunch. She was a cast member, so of course she would get wrapped up in the cast gossip—gossip I could not afford, especially with the show coming up and everything I wanted to accomplish during that time at sea. A woman would only complicate matters. A woman like Kai… would completely fuck everything up.
When I was mere feet away from my bike, she swiveled around and stepped up to me. “You know what’s shitty? The fact that you know so much about my personal life but you’re always so vague about yours.”
“Vague is better, love. Better for everyone, you included.”
She scoffed, her jaw dropping and olive skin darkening. “With you not telling me, I’m only going to think the worst. You realize that, right?”
I shrugged, fighting against the truth that wanted to spill right then and there. I could end the conversation once and for all, but the truth was too risky. The truth would give her a way out of fulfilling her contract, which would only give Dirk the extra inch he needed to take his mile. “Think the worst then, sweetheart. Won’t hurt me a bit.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you bring me here just to remind me how big of a dick you are?”
Here we go again.
“No need bringing my dick into this, love.”
She stepped forward so that her chest brushed against mine, which only made me think about how epically perky her tits might be beneath that thick sports bra of hers. “I want nothing to do with your dick, Bash. I was willing to be your friend since you so clearly and desperately need one, but I won’t put up with your mood swings. No more bike rides. No more lunches. Screw the little deal we made. If I think you’re blurring the lines professionally again, then I’ll go straight to Dirk. Got it?”
Well, well. My light-eyed, olive-skinned vixen had a fire in her I might have underestimated. But with the blaze burning brightly in her stare, I knew better than to do anything other than nod.
“Got it. We done now?” I said, walking past her to hop on my bike. “We’re going to be late getting back.”
She spun, her hair whipping around. “Yes. We’re done.”
She climbed on the bike behind me, and I tried to ignore the fact that her hold wasn’t as firm as it had been on the way here. And her cheek wasn’t pressed between my shoulder blades, either. She held on like she had to instead of wanted to. And the difference was like a draft of cold air wafting between me and a furnace that had once kept me safe and warm.
Not that Kai was a furnace. She was more like a heat lamp that decided when to switch on and off. The threat was always there, and she was currently using it against me.
When we got back to Gravity, she hopped off my bike and started walking away so fast I didn’t try to go after her. Instead, I jogged to the parking-lot staircase, pushed my way through the door, and started for the theater. But when I got to the double doors of the large room, I stopped in my tracks.
Music was playing from the stage. My music. That wouldn’t have caused me to halt if the music had been playing on the speakers, but the sound was coming from the piano. My piano. My stage. My fucking music. Heat flared up inside me, sparking a fire that felt like it had been brewing inside me for years.
I took one step into the room, my eyes already wide, my chest burning, and my neck throbbing with anger. What the hell? I wanted to scream the words, but they stayed in my mind as I listened to some greased-up punk kid in a leather jacket performing my music like his life depended on it.
Then I looked at the panel of judges on the side of the stage and grew even angrier. Dirk sat between the director and casting agent like he was Simon fucking Cowell on whatever new television show he’d decided to create that week. He was auditioning for the lead part. My part.
I let my head clear some before I tore down the center aisle and climbed the stairs, my footsteps so loud that everyone stopped what they were doing, including the stranger behind the piano. My head swiveled toward the panel, and my eyes stopped on Dirk, who seemed exasperated. His heavy sigh and fallen eyelids said it all—he was going to run this ship his way, not giving a fuck about any of my requests.
“A word, Dirk?”
At least I had the decency to remove this conversation from everyone else in the room.
Dirk followed me backstage, where I found the first dressing room and shut the door behind us.
“Look, I know what you’re going to say.” He held up his hands, on the defense.
“No, you don’t get to start this time. I’m not letting you take over this show just like you tried to do before. We’re partners, remember? That means decisions like casting and score changes and wardrobe changes all need to run through me. I told you when we signed the cruise contract that my part wouldn’t get an understudy. That hasn’t changed.”
Dirk dropped his head in exasperation and shook it. “I never agreed to that.”
“Well, it’s not up for debate. It’s my part, my piano, my musical. You don’t get to put someone in my seat if I don’t agree.”
“Yeah? Well, what if you’re sick?”
“Then I’ll still play. You fucking know that.”
“Oh yeah?” he said.
I already knew the next dart he was about to throw.
“And if you decide not to show up for work one night?”
I gritted my teeth. “That would never happen.”
“It’s happened before.”
I could’ve repeated the incidents that led up to our impending doom, but he wasn’t worth the extra breath. “Never again, Dick.”
Dirk placed his hands on his waist and lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. “You know, Bash, when we first talked about this musical, it seemed like the dream partnership, with you behind the music and me behind the desk.”
“You mean you thought I could make all the magic while you pulled all the strings and made all the decisions.” I raised my hands and slapped them against my thighs. “Look how far
that got us. We’re about to get on some boat to perform for strangers who give just as many fucks about Broadway as they do about their fancy dinners.”
“Oh, what do you know about Broadway? You had a four-month stint and think you’re the expert? If you had any appreciation for the stage, you would have stayed in your own lane, Bash. You’ll never be allowed on a New York stage again, with all that you pulled.”
I barked out a laugh. “You are brilliant, man, just brilliant. Try taking some responsibility for a change.” I took a step forward so that I was less than an inch from his face. “You ruined my fucking life,” I growled before placing a palm to his chest and pushing. When he stumbled backward, I matched his distance with a step of my own. “I cannot wait for the day that this contract ends, to finally go our separate ways.”
Dirk’s jaw twitched. “You can always sign the show over to me, and we can do that now.”
I shook my head. “And give you everything I’ve worked towards for the past seven years? Not happening, Dick. Besides, you know my name was all over that marketing campaign that led to selling out the cruise season. You tell them I’m no longer in the actual show, and you risk being the reason for every single cancellation. Explain that one to the cruise line.” I waved a hand in the air. “We’re not arguing about this again. One run on this damn ship, and then our time together is over.”
“For someone who wants to get back to Broadway so badly, you sure as hell don’t show it.”
“You aren’t my only way back.”
Dirk laughed. “Okay, Bash. Whatever you say. Are we done here now? I’ve got an audition to finish up.”
He wouldn’t listen to me. He’d have his audition, but he’d have a hell of a time keeping anyone when they found out they’d never have a chance to play on that stage.
I pushed through the door and walked back out to where everyone was waiting and smiled at the kid behind the piano as I crossed, tapping it with my palm. “Make sure to read the small print, kid. You get the part, you’ll only play if the lead is absent. And mark my words—I will never miss a show.” I threw my glare over my shoulder, pinning a flustered Dirk with it. “Never again.”
