Tough Luck (The Shakedown Series Book 1)

by Elizabeth SaFleur

  “It was nice of him.” Phoenix scooted by them and plopped herself on the stool before her make-up station. “Now maybe we can work on those new dances. I’m so bored with everything we've been doing.”

  Starr crossed her arms before her sister. “Wait. Did you just say something nice about Declan?”

  Phee lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug.

  “Maybe we can go visit Dad.” Luna worked her bottom lip with her teeth. “Stop ignoring the fact that he’s just hours away.”

  Phoenix gave an unladylike snort. “He ignored us first. Besides, Starr just did that.”

  That morning she’d filled them in on her conversation with their father. To her amazement, Phee was happy she’d gone to tell him to stop calling, and Luna was happy she’d gone at all. She’d also delivered her father’s message to Phee. Her sister stared blank-faced at her, answered “message received,” and then went back to scrubbing the pot she’d been working on at the kitchen sink.

  “Phee, it may be time to let go of the anger, ya’ know.” Luna never quit.

  “I have let go. The guy said he was sorry, so let’s just get on with our lives.”

  Starr rolled her eyes. “Now who's lying?” She didn’t have to be happy about her father’s too-late apology, but it would do Phee good to release some of her hatred toward the man.

  “Look, just because you're all googly-eyed over Nathan, doesn't mean the rest of us have lost our senses.” Phee spread her arms wide in a circle. Costumes hung haphazardly on hangers, and make-up stains decorated her stand. “Look at this place. It could use some cleaning.”

  Starr groaned. “I’d rather get that show together we've been talking about.”

  Luna's face brightened. “I agree.”

  Starr and Phee glanced at one another. Something was up with L. She didn’t give up that easily.

  Luna's eyes darted from Starr to Phee and back again. “In fact, I have an idea. Promise me, you'll hear me out.”

  “Of course.” Starr nodded.

  “No, I need you to promise.”

  She sighed dramatically. “I promise.”

  “Good. Let's develop a new show and then debut it in three weeks for all those people who want to come to a place like this but are in recovery. We won’t serve alcohol.” Her words came out in a big rush. “We could do it for charity. Give Shakedown some good PR. I mean, right after the renovations are finished. It might buy Declan more time in case the license gets delayed.”

  Starr's shook her head slowly, utterly amazed at her sister. The idea was good.

  “I know exactly who we can raise the money for. Sunset Home. They are part of a larger network of alcohol and drug rehabilitation centers. We could do it for them.”

  Phee's lips thinned to one disapproving line, and she plopped down on her stool. “You have got to be kidding.”

  “You promised to listen.”

  “Listen, not agree.”

  “Why not?”

  Phee swiveled her stool and started organizing her make-up.

  “Starr?” Luna pleaded.

  “Is this your way of doing something for our father?”

  “No. It’s a way to best him.”

  Starr chewed on her fingernail. She had to admit, despite her own fury at the guy, the idea had merit, and it would appease Luna without pushing Phoenix toward her father, or causing Starr to have to deal with him again. It was an odd compromise in a way. “But why would a rehab center get involved with a burlesque show?”

  “You know the burlesque world has raised tons of money for causes—many of them medically related.” Luna crossed her arms.

  Starr tapped her lips with her index finger. “True, it would help out Shakedown and Declan, someone being quite generous with us,” she emphasized those last few words, staring at Phee. “We won’t be dancing every night, so we would have time to choreograph a few new dances. It's actually brilliant.”

  Luna’s face lit up. “I'm glad you think so, because this morning, I got Sunset Home to agree to cut Dad's rehab bill in half if we do it.”

  Phee swung her stool back around so she faced her two sisters. “I’m not dancing for that piece of shit.”

  Luna stared straight at Phee and didn’t back down. “It makes us look good to Declan and the rest of Shakedown. It's for a good cause, and it might help some families who've been hurt by alcoholism. Like us. It shows we’re better.”

  Never again would Starr underestimate Luna Belle. She sure had balls. “You little Machiavellian strategist.”

  Luna turned and flounced to the door. “Good. Then I'll go and run the idea by Declan. If he agrees, we're in, right?” She paused in the doorjamb. “Phee? Show him. Show them all.”

  A long silence stretched out between them. “It will help out Shakedown.” Phee stated the words as if attempting to convince herself.

  “Yes,” Luna said gently.

  Phee surprised them both. “Okay. I'll do it. But only if he does not come.” She turned away but not before Starr caught a tear rolling down her sister's cheek.

  She hadn't seen Phee cry in years. When was the last time? It had to be that day in the cold hospital room when she and L. had to say good-bye to Phee. They were given five minutes before they were taken to a government office and separated.

  Luna reached her hand out, which Starr grasped. Starr's throat closed, but she managed to squeeze Luna's fingers before she traipsed out. Starr didn’t have to forgive and forget to do this show. She could rise above it all and do something nice for people who deserved it, like her Shakedown family.

  She stepped over to Phee and placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Are you sure?”

  Phee picked up a brush and yanked it through her hair “No, I’m not sure, but it seems important to L.” Her lashes lifted in the mirror, and she locked eyes with Starr. “I’ll do it for her. And you.”

  That was the best she could hope for.

  She kissed the top of her sister’s head. “For the record, we are already better than him, we don’t need a show to prove it.”

  Forgiveness started with doing something nice for someone else with similar hurts, or so the stupid Sunset Home brochure had said. Okay, then. Since they were victims of an alcoholic father, it made sense for them to help those like them by supporting rehab centers. Luna really might be the smartest of them all.

  31

  Declan tapped the top of his desk with his index finger, the tip pushing the notice from the Comptroller’s office like he was playing with it. “So, this latest development is not the biggest surprise. I’ve got legal working on it.”

  Nathan didn’t know what to say, so he kept his lips zipped. Trick leaned against the wall, also silent.

  Declan, however, was in quite a chatty mood. “You report to your parole officer about Ruark MacKenna?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “She didn’t tell me to quit Shakedown. Just said to watch it.” Nathan eased down into the chair before Declan's desk and scrubbed his hand through his hair. She’d texted him three potential apartments to check out, too—all of them rat holes. “It's going to get worse with them, ya know.”

  “Of course it is. You give men like MacKenna an inch, they take the whole fucking mile. I'm not having it. Not at my club.”

  Trick pushed off the wall and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Anything he does to us makes it easier to put him away.” His gaze locked on Nathan. The men's utter calm in this shit storm was oddly unnerving.

  Nathan stared down at the oriental carpet—a piece like that was worth thousands. Declan could lose everything—again—if he wasn't careful. “Nothing sticks to them. They're Teflon. Declan, you know this more than anyone.”

  “And they underestimate my ability. I've put word out on the street. They have enemies, too, you know.”

  “Gang war. That what you want to get into?”

  “No. Let's just say I have friends on the force who'd like nothing more than to
nail a MacKenna.”

  “He's fixated on Starr.” Nathan would be damned if his fixation turned into anything.

  “We're watching the girls, and honestly, if Ruark’s identified Starr is important to you, then she's already in this mess.”

  Exactly what he wouldn't stand for. “I won't let them near her.” He’d ensure even distant relatives of that revenge-thirsty family couldn’t get within a mile of her.

  “Neither will I. Now, what else do they have on you that I don’t know about?” Declan leaned back in his chair. “And don’t bullshit me.”

  Nathan rubbed his hand through his beard. He'd stay and see this out. “You know I have an ex-wife in Florida?”

  Declan nodded once.

  “Well, I’ve got a kid, too.” He took a second to exhale. “When I got served divorce papers, I released full custody. Signing them was the least I could do. I knew the MacKenna’s would come for me. Had to leave them out of it.”

  “Anything else?”

  “My ex doesn't know where I am, and I'm going to keep it that way.” At least that way, they'd have a chance to be off the MacKenna family’s radar. Ruark couldn't be in two places at once.

  Trick stared down at him. “Given the circumstances, understandable, smart, and kind.”

  Yeah, he was saint material.

  Declan’s chair righted with a thunk. “I'm sure Ruark would rather go after someone closer.”

  Like Starr. Was that supposed to make him feel better?

  “Here.” Trick held out his palm.

  “What's this?” Nathan took a key from Trick's hand.

  “The key to my old apartment. Rach and I just bought a house.”

  “I can't afford—”

  “It's paid up until the end of the year. Rachel hates my taste, so it's fully furnished. Just take it, Nathan, and don't let my plants die.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because sometimes the good guys have to win.”

  He scrubbed his chin and blinked back some emotion that threatened his eyes. His fist curled around the key. “Thanks, man.”

  They heard a rap, and then Max cracked open the door. He stepped in, grinning from ear to ear. “Just heard from my buddy on the liquor license board. Eighteen-day suspension but nothing more.”

  Declan stood. “Good. Now let’s discuss an idea our formidable Luna Belle brought me thirty minutes ago.”

  32

  Starr fingered a canary-yellow jacket adorned in real ostrich feathers. God, she'd missed their costumes. Unfortunately, their six-by-two-foot closet at home gave them no choice but to move them to Shakedown’s warehouse. She pushed its hanger to the side to inspect the military jacket next on the garment rack and caressed it like an old friend.

  “Don't even think about it.” Phee's voice echoed in the warehouse space, the sound bouncing off the corrugated steel walls. “We need fringe.”

  “I know. And don't forget crystals, not sequins, or it'll look cheap.”

  “Agreed.”

  Phee was less careful than her with their babies, quickly scraping hangers over the metal rod, rejecting dresses, and jumpsuits, and corsets, with a speed that made Starr’s inner diva wince. Phee wasn’t normally rough with things. Something was up, and Starr’s hands itched with the need to intervene, but picking battles you could win was the key to dealing with Phee.

  “Please tell me we won’t spend all of our time off, working,” she said.

  “God, I hope not.”

  They weren't the only ones who thought three weeks allowed major projects to be undertaken. She had hoped she and Nathan could go somewhere for at least a day, but he ended up helping Declan get the club “spruced up.” Nathan was putting in sixteen hours days at this point, but then again, so were she and her sisters as they cobbled together as many new dances as they could in the short three weeks.

  “I heard Declan is spinning this forced shut down as 'renovations'. The man is smart, covering up the liquor issue with that little message.” She eyed Phoenix, who ignored the comment obviously meant for her.

  Phee massaged the small of her back. “I'm going to be too tired to dance when we finally do open.” She plopped to the concrete floor, stretched out her legs, and brought her forehead down to her knees. Starr would kill for her flexibility.

  From her purse, Starr pulled out the list Luna had put together of acts they'd lined up—old dancing friends who’d offered to come in as guest artists—from aerial acts to tango routines. “L lined up a flamenco act. That's always a crowd-pleaser. That brings our total to seventeen dancers. Oh, and we need to add my ‘Hey Big Spender’ act to the line-up.” Starr popped the top off her pen and scribbled on the list. “It's nostalgic, and people love it. Now I need to find that blue corset for it.”

  She turned back to the garment rack. “Hey, did Aspen Snow ever get back to us? We need those silks acts to break things up. Make it slightly more circus-y.”

  “If we don't shake some serious ass, the audience won't believe they're at a burlesque show.” Phee’s jeans-clad knees muffled her voice.

  She was right, of course. People would pay $250 a head to see a show they believed they'd get nowhere else. Look at Cirque Du Soleil.

  Phee rose and yawned. “I still don't understand how all this is going to work. I mean, why would Sunset Home agree to have this charity thing pay for any of our sperm donor’s bills?” Ever the cynic, Phoenix questioned the need to pay their father’s rehab bill.

  “Remember that nurse, Mimi? She says they'll make more in the long run. It's good publicity for them, doing something different.” Starr snapped her fingers. “Declan said some well-known senator is locked in to come. You know Declan will do anything to ensure our success.”

  Phee had her usual reaction whenever Declan's name was mentioned. She pretended not to hear her. She stretched her back. “The good senator isn’t going to drink for a whole evening? I will believe it when I see it.” Phee chortled. “I just hope after all this work, people come. A non-alcoholic show? Who wants to come to that?”

  “Hey, what do you say we open the dress rehearsal up to staff? Nathan would love to see us dance when he can actually sit down and watch.”

  Phee snorted. “Rescuing an alley cat doesn't make up for—”

  “Pot, meet kettle, Phee.”

  Raising Phoenix's juvenile record was low, but her sister's attitude needed to change. Nathan was a decent guy who'd been served a plate of bad circumstances that finally might be turning around. He didn’t need Phee’s disrespect added onto an already unfair burden, and Phee might show just a little appreciation for Nathan’s concern about all their safety.

  Since Ruark’s last visit to the club, Nathan and Max had alternated nights sleeping at their apartment. On Max’s bodyguard watch, she and Nathan hung out at his new place, gifted by Trick. Ruark had disappeared—no sightings, no more messages on her phone for dates. And, dear old Dad had gone silent. Thankfully, on the subject of him, so had Luna.

  Tight-lipped, Phee glared at her before she returned to swiping at hangers. She pulled out a black mini-dress, dripping with ropes of gold beads in a waterfall pattern, and held it out to Starr. “This. This is perfect.” The beads tinkled against one another as she shook it.

  “Pretty.” Her mind sifted through past performances and came up blank. “Nathan likes me in gold.” She fingered one of the strands—for about two seconds until Phee pulled it back.

  “So, this is how it's going to be.” Phee's lips pursed, and she smashed the dress to her chest.

  Her skin prickled under her sister's cold scowl. “How's what going to be?”

  “Everything we do from now on is going to be in relation to pleasing a man.”

  Was she serious? “That's a leap.”

  Phee raised her voice and batted her eyelashes. “I'll be at Nathan's tonight. Would you like to go to dinner with Nathan and me? Nathan likes me in gold.”

  Phee’s little-girl tone really irritated. She wasn'
t getting away with crapping all over Starr's happiness. “What is up your butt, Phee?”

  “What is up yours? Not everything can be about men.”

  “Actually, with you, everything is about men, isn't it?” Starr willed her voice to be soft, sympathetic.

  Phee's right eyelid twitched.

  “I mean ...” Her words died in her throat because once that twitch went off, it was gird-your-loins time.

  Phee thrust the dress at her and tromped toward the exit.

  Blood thumped loudly in her ears, and every nerve in her spinal cord tingled. She sucked in the dusty air and shouted, “Sisters forever. Friends always.”

  Phoenix stopped and turned, her back as rigid as the concrete floor. “You’re kidding, right? First, Dad, this show, and then … “

  Then, what? “No. We were trying to help you.” Starr stepped toward her. She would not be cowed, not on this topic. “You think Luna or I would abandon you ... us? If you only knew…” If Phee only knew the lengths she'd gone to already for both her sisters.

  “Knew what?” Phee’s eyes fired.

  Starr cleared her throat. “Don’t get mad, but … When we were seventeen, I paid him off to stay away from us.”

  “You did what?” Her question echoed in the space.

  “Luna had the same reaction.”

  Phee huffed and sat on a crate, dropping the dress between her knees. “That takes the cake.”

  She was shocked Phee didn’t have stronger words. Instead, she’d stilled, like she'd turned to stone. This wasn't good. She'd seen that frozen face before. It scared her a little bit. Phee’s toughness was something she’d counted on. If she’d started giving up…

  “You're in love with Nathan.” Phee's words were tight, as if it hurt to say them.

  Starr swallowed. “Yes, and Declan is in love with you.”

  “I know. It doesn't matter.”

  God, her throat had constricted so it hurt to suck in air. “Why not?” She'd never asked before, first out of respect for her sister’s privacy—they had so little—and then because she knew she’d never get a real answer.