by Michele Hauf
“Great.”
“I’m supposed to get a big contract that will make my life easier.” Her glance fell on the envelope on her dresser.
He followed her gaze to the names on the envelope. “From Hugh Callahan?”
She nodded. “You know him?”
“Everyone in Las Vegas has heard of him.”
A knock on the door interrupted them. “It’s Betty. I have a box, a gift from Mr. Callahan, a beautiful dress to wear tonight at the dinner in your honor.”
Annoyed that Eric had heard the order coming with the box, Natalie huffed and cracked open the door to take the box. “Thank you, Betty. It’s late. You can go home now.”
“Mr. Callahan said he’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”
“Okay,” she repeated, her tone betraying her exasperation. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Ms. Natalie.”
She threw the box on the floor.
“Careful, it may wrinkle. Callahan won’t be pleased.”
“As if I care.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she picked up the box and opened it, revealing a lovely, quite decent blue dress, which she held against her. “Not too bad,” she said after a thorough look in the mirror.
“Exquisite. The blue color matches your eyes.” Yet Eric didn’t smile, and his tone remained as serious as if he were studying an exam paper.
Hugh had chosen the perfect dress, in deep blue silk with an A-line skirt, a festooned round neck, and bell-shaped sleeves ending at the elbow—a dress she had no reason to refuse. And that frustrated her—and annoyed Eric too, probably.
“Natalie, we just met, and I don’t have the right to give you any advice.”
“What type of advice?” she snapped. Hugh’s gift prompted too many questions. Her budding headache threatened to explode. Dismissing the offending dress, she hung it in the narrow closet, away from sight.
“Don’t drink when you’re with Callahan or his cronies. I mean don’t toast too often. You never know how strong their alcohol can be. I’ve read stories about him and his protégées.”
“I won’t become one.”
“You haven’t read what’s in the envelope.”
“It’s my contract. For a whole year of shows. I may be able to do as I want after that.”
He arched a doubtful eyebrow. “Better read it carefully before signing.”
“I will.”
“You may not have time later at dinner.”
He was right. She unsealed the envelope and started reading. And gasped. “Wow.”
“Is it bad?”
“No, the royalties are amazing. Better than I could ever dream, and he’s giving me an apartment in his high-rise.”
“Close to his own condo. At his beck and call,” he quipped sarcastically.
“Never.” Tired and confused, she sighed. “I’ll refuse to live in his tower.” She’d already experienced Hugh’s overwhelming approach. She kept reading the clauses. “Ah... No way.”
“What’s his next condition?”
“He wants to become my little brother’s official guardian. He’ll send Brian to a boarding school to protect him from his bad habits.”
“You have a young brother?”
“My only family, other than a nasty stepfather I can’t wait to get rid of.”
Eric frowned. “Do you realize that by assuming your brother’s guardianship, Callahan would be controlling you?”
“I’ll never let him take Brian. Unfortunately, Brian befriended the wrong guys. He’s only twelve and already into drugs.”
“Careful, Natalie. Callahan is used to getting what he wants. Don’t say no right up front. You’d antagonize him and won’t get away with it.”
“You’re right. But I don’t know what else to do.”
“You can’t fight such a powerful guy and win. It’s wiser to run away.”
“Run? Where and how, for heaven’s sake? It’s not only Callahan I’m dealing with. My stepfather would catch me right away. I owe him money for Brian’s lodging and food. And the theater director, Spencer Hall, would lose his own contract for hosting my show in his place.”
“I’ll help you.”
“What?”
“I’ll help you escape from here. With your brother.”
“Eric,” she huffed. “I just met you. I don’t know you.”
“You don’t know Callahan either. Or maybe you know him well.”
She snorted. “I don’t even know your last name.”
“Eric Devereux, at your service, ma’am. I live in Boston. I’m originally from Rensy Island, a small island in the English Channel. A graduate in computer engineering from Boston University, and a wizard in all things tech.” He laughed, a charming laugh that would melt a glacier and soothed her frazzled nerves. “How about you? I know you’re the best singer and dancer in the world. What else?”
He was such an attractive young man, his chiseled jaw framing luscious full lips. Under dark, unruly hair that curled on his shoulders, his eyes twinkled with green flecks as he tilted his head and seemed to study her. This man could be such a good friend.
“I’ve always loved to sing and dance. My Russian grandmother encouraged me. Lost my dad years ago in an accident and my mom four years ago to cancer. We lived with my stepfather, Jonah Albert, an absolute dirtbag. How I wish I could get rid of him.”
“You can. I’m supposed to return to Boston tomorrow to start a good job in my cousin’s company. I can tell you all about it during our trip.”
“How do you expect me to bring Brian to an airport? He’ll ask questions and may refuse to leave his friends.”
“Not an airport, Natalie. We’ll leave on my Harley. Brian may like that.”
“A dirt bike? You’re crazy. Completely insane.”
“Less crazy than you, becoming a sex slave to an unscrupulous billionaire who will surely try to maneuver you into his bed.”
“How dare you?” She lifted a hand to slap him. He caught it easily.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you. Just stating a fact that could happen despite all your good intentions. My father dealt with those sorts of men and lost his life.”
“Ah.” Her heart sank.
“Listen, I can’t stay here any longer. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be at Joe’s Café on Belt Street, behind the Strip, at five a.m. Please come. Bring Brian, and don’t forget your IDs and official papers.” He spoke fast, enumerating his instructions. “No need for extra clothes, only the minimum. Give your stepfather his money. Get him off your back for a while. I’ll wait for you until seven. And then I’ll leave. If you want to start a new life, away from this mess, I can help you. We’ll leave together, you, me and Brian on my Harley.”
She squinted at him. “Do you expect the three of us to ride on your dirt bike all—”
“Not a dirt bike.” He jolted back, as though offended by the words. “My Harley’s one of the finest motorcycles on the market.”
She snorted. “Sorry, didn’t mean it as an insult. But seriously, we can’t go all the way to Boston on your Harley.”
“No, only to some other town where we can find a better way to travel to the East Coast. Too bad you don’t have a car.”
“I have a car, but it’s old and run-down, a clunker ready to be junked. I’m always afraid to be late for work if I use it and it dies on me on the road.”
“Drive it anyway tomorrow and let me be the judge. Your clunker may solve your problem.” He winked at her.
Her jaw sagged. He had an answer to everything.
“See you tomorrow, Natalie.” He blew her a kiss and left.
2
Eric strode to Joe’s Café, avoided the crowded inner room, and crossed the backyard to settle at a table on the back terrace. In addition to a variety of coffees and teas, the popular restaurant served pizzas, omelets, burgers, lasagna, and vegetable sandwiches at all times of the day and night. Eric ordered spinach lasagna, green salad, and pink lemonade. While waiting for his food t
o come, he texted his cousin. Will leave Las Vegas tomorrow. May have 2 people with me.
Philip Devereux answered right away. When will you be serious about starting a decent job and building a career? Your so-called friends wasted your money and time so far. No place for them here. How like Philip to moralize and scold.
With so many patrons ambling around, Eric couldn’t call and risk being heard by the wrong ears. Texting suited him better. Different scenario now. A damsel in distress and her little brother. Can’t abandon them to abusing sleazes. Need your help, please.
Powerful and generous, Philip didn’t approve of Eric’s friends, or gambling companions, but he’d never refused to help anyone. Eric was sure his successful cousin wouldn’t mind lending a supportive hand to Eric’s rescue mission. A rescue mission that involved a lovely face with dark, long curls hiding azure blue eyes, an angelic voice, and a flexible body that could damn a saint.
His phone chimed, the ID picture showing Philip’s affable smile. His serious cousin needed explanatory details right away. Eric didn’t pick up the call and texted. Dining in a crowded place. Discretion necessary. Will call you tomorrow morning. Thanks.
During dinner, Eric plotted several plans of action. One to convince Natalie to join him. Another to organize their escape from Las Vegas in utmost secrecy. And a few schemes to have her settle in Boston.
The trip to Boston was a must for him if he didn’t want to lose his precious Harley—and maybe his skin—to a poker mob. And escaping from Las Vegas seemed as crucial for his favorite dancer, who was about to be caught in the clutches of an unscrupulous billionaire.
Running away from the three thugs tailing him, Eric had zigzagged between various hotels, landed at Caesars Palace, and finally snuck into the theater in an effort to lose his stalkers. Without paying attention to the show about to start, Eric had sidled to the front row and settled in the darkest seat at the far left.
But the unexpected had happened. Eric had fallen under the dancer’s spell and couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her beauty, her talent, and the sadness he’d detected at times captured his attention. He’d managed to hide and sleep in a storage room backstage, and had attended her show daily for the past week.
A self-appointed bodyguard, he’d shadowed her when she’d strolled through the theater corridors and sprinted along the dark streets to wait for the late bus, and even watched her ride in the producer’s limousine. While doing odd jobs for local businesses at the hotel and theater, he’d gathered important information about the producer’s high-rise and favorite restaurants.
After savoring his last bite of lasagna, Eric sipped his tea, paid his bill with the debit card Philip had sent him five days ago, and walked out.
Pulling out the lightweight waterproof jacket he’d rolled into his blazer pocket, he slipped it on and lowered the hood over his forehead. A quick survey of the street reassured him no one was following him. After meandering along a few streets, he accelerated his pace and zoomed to the alley where he’d hidden his motorcycle behind a bougainvillea bush.
In the protection of the dark trees, he yanked off his shirt and tie, rolled them into his tank bag, and slipped on his black work T-shirt. In a rush, he smoothed gel over his hair, flattening and pulling it back. A black cap and postiche beard completed his disguise of jack-of-all-trades and allowed him to resume his secret watchdog job.
Natalie studied her image in the mirror. The blue dress, compliments of Hugh, lent her a demure appearance, a stark contrast to the suggestive allure of the transparent shift she’d worn on stage. Was Hugh trying to reassure her she had nothing to fear with him?
The hammering of her heartbeat increased when her phone rang. But Spencer’s picture popped onto the screen.
“Natalie, I have your check. I’m about to leave. Can you stop by my office right away?”
“Sure.” She grabbed her silver clutch and shawl, locked her room, and headed to the elevator at the end of the corridor.
The business offices of the theater were on the second floor, and the director’s one the closest to the elevator. Her high-heeled sandals clattered on the tile floor, announcing her arrival, and the door of Spencer’s office opened before she could knock.
“Come in. You’ve done an amazing job all this week and deserve to be paid without delay.” He walked to his desk and handed her an envelope that she tore into right away.
“It’s a check.”
“Of course. With the amount we agreed on. What else did you expect?”
She bit her lip and tortured it. “Would it be possible for you to write two checks, each for half the amount? I owe people money and...”
“No problem.” He wrote and signed the two checks and slid the previous one into a shredder.
“Thanks.” She put a check in her purse and kept the other in hand. “I’ll give this one to my stepfather for my brother’s lodging. He expects his due right away.”
Spencer gasped. “Half of your royalties? Man, that’s way too much for a little boy’s food.”
“He’s taken care of Brian when I was away.”
“You should tell him not to count on half of your check from now on. Or he’ll rip you off to no end.”
She nodded, knowing she’d never dare to antagonize Jonah as long as Brian lived under his roof. “I have to go now.” She walked to the door.
“Coming to dinner with Callahan?”
Surprised, she spun toward him. “Yes. Are you?”
“I’m picking up my wife and joining you. There’ll be two other couples, too.”
“Ah.” Wives were invited, too. No wonder Hugh had sent her such a decent dress. With so many people at his table, she’d bet the producer would be on his best behavior tonight. Natalie relaxed. The dinner might prove enjoyable after all.
Her mood lighter, Natalie rode the elevator to the first floor and was ambling to her dressing room when a hand caught her arm. She screamed and threw a punch.
“Are you crazy? It’s me.”
“Jonah? You scared the hell out of me.” Jerk. She yanked her arm out of his hold.
“Why? You have a bad conscience?” He snatched the check from her hand. “That’s my money, I bet.” He read the numbers and smiled. “I count on more after the big contract. Never forget I’m the one who introduced you to Spencer Hall. You owe me your success, now and in the future, girl.” He tapped his finger on his chest. “Not to mention your brat and his problems with drugs. I must be a saint to keep him around.”
“Go to...” Remembering Eric’s advice not to antagonize anyone tonight, she swallowed the rest of the sentence and tightened her fist. Behind Jonah, she caught a moving figure, a cleaning boy in a black cap, sweeping the floor. “Got to go.”
“Ah, going out with your new protector? I heard he takes good care of his performers.” Jonah sneered. “They all became his pampered girlfriends. His whores, to be precise. Following in your mother’s footsteps, girl.” His raucous laugh grated on her ears. “A whore in the making. Who cares, as long as you pay your dues?”
For the hundredth time, she wondered why her mother had married such a hateful skunk. Repressing her tears, she dashed to her dressing room and banged the door shut.
Poor Brian. Living with that thug had pushed him into drugs. Claiming he had homework to do, her brother had refused to attend her performances and didn’t hide his resentment at her neglect. She promised herself never to leave him with Jonah again.
A text announced that Mr. Callahan was waiting for her in his limousine. She took a deep breath, folded the contract papers she’d read a dozen times very slowly, and left her room. In the hallway, she passed by the cleaning boy, who was still sweeping the same spot.
“Natalie.”
She barely heard her name and spun. “Who...” She squinted at the bearded and mustached face and opened big eyes.
“Eric?”
“Shh...” He put a finger to his lips and winked.
“Ah... Oh.”
&nb
sp; He stepped closer and whispered, “I won’t be far from you tonight.” And he immediately disappeared at the other end of the corridor.
Tonight, where? Good Lord, what did he mean?
Still in shock, Natalie rushed to the front door of the theater.
A new page would start tonight. She crossed her fingers and prayed for strength.
3
The chauffer held the door open for Natalie. “Hi, Mr. Callahan. Thank you for the beautiful dress,” she said as she sat next to Hugh in the back seat.
“You look fabulous, Natasha.” Her producer gave her an appreciative smile and brought her hand to his lips. The gallant gesture didn’t lessen her apprehension. Tonight, Mr. Callahan had decided to play the debonair host. “Your performance was exceptional. I heard a lot of comments, all positive and flattering. The Las Vegas Review-Journal, Las Vegas Sun Sentinel, and many newspapers will run an article with pictures in tomorrow’s edition. Front page, probably.”
“Ah.” She stiffened and fiddled with her purse. She hadn’t counted on any publicity.
“Tomorrow I’ll announce your new contract. Soon, you’ll become the darling of the press, adulated by the crowd. Reporters will post your pictures every day.”
Was that supposed to please her?
Her throat tightened, and she had trouble breathing. Lowering her eyelids, she wondered how she’d protect her privacy and her young brother’s.
Unaware of her inner storm, Mr. Callahan reached to the small side bar, uncorked a bottle of champagne, and poured. “I want to toast our new contract in private first.”
Darn, she hadn’t signed anything yet.
He handed her a flute and clanked his against hers. “To our contract and our new relationship, my dear Natasha.”
She choked but forced herself to drink.
“You have the contract?”
“Yes, but I...huh... I haven’t signed yet.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Why not?”
“Huh...” She took a deep breath. “There are a few things I’d like to discuss.”
“Discuss?” Was his crisp tone meant to paralyze her? “Don’t you like the salary?”
