by Heather Long
Donuts on a plate, I poured a mug of coffee and then carried all of it to the table. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I went utterly still…for about three seconds, then it hit me.
No one but Vaughn and the others had this number. It couldn’t be my parents, Marta, or worst of all, my uncle, texting or calling. I wanted to pee, the relief hit so hard. After licking my fingers clean of the stickiness, I took out the phone.
Kestrel: Awake?
Me: Just got up a bit ago. Found the coffee and my wallet. Thank you.
Kestrel: Welcome. At the shop until six. If you need something, text me.
I smiled.
Me: Will do.
I’d no sooner sent that message than my phone buzzed again.
Jasper: On a run. Didn’t want you to think I disappeared on you again. Might not be back before tomorrow. Stay close to the clubhouse. If you go out, take one of the others, please. Text location at all times.
I considered the message.
Me: I slept very well. How about you?
Jasper: I’d have slept better if Rome hadn’t stolen you away.
I laughed.
Me: Can I ask what kind of run?
Jasper: I’d prefer you didn’t.
Preferring I didn’t wasn’t an outright denial or a shutdown.
Me: Okay. I won’t. I wanted to see Doc today. Safe or no?
If he was going to make concessions for me, then I could for him. This weird world of theirs had become almost strangely normal very quickly.
His answer was not quick in coming, so I set the phone down and finished my donuts and coffee. I’d cleaned up and washed my hands before the phone buzzed again.
Jasper: Doc is going to pick you up around lunchtime when he would normally close the clinic. If no one else is back, can you take Freddie with you?
I smiled. His concern for Freddie softened him in a way. As much as I needed and wanted to talk to Doc by myself, I wouldn’t abandon Freddie.
Me: I can do that. Thank you.
He’d taken so long because he’d been making arrangements.
Jasper: I meant what I said.
Me: I appreciate that. A lot. Be safe.
Jasper: See you when I’m back.
I checked the time, it wasn’t quite ten, which meant lunch was at least ninety minutes away, maybe longer. I was dressed and ready to go, so I went to check on Freddie. He lay with an arm across his eyes. The rise and fall of his chest indicated breathing, but it was a little too deep and fast to be sleeping rhythm.
Perching on the table, I propped my chin in my hands and studied him. “Why are you hiding from me?”
Freddie pulled his arm back slowly and eyed me. “I’m not hiding.” But the faint grimace said that was a lie. I just waited, and he sighed. “Maybe I’m hiding a little.”
I nodded slowly. “Can you tell me why?” Because if I’d done something, I wanted to fix it.
Swinging his legs to the floor, Freddie sat up slowly. He scrubbed his hands over his face and looked anywhere but at me. “I fucked up.” The admission seemed to cost him.
“Okay.”
Shock rippled across his expression, and he finally met my gaze. “I fucked up,” he repeated. “I was supposed to go get you food and I let you down, then I got high and fucked up and…yeah.”
“Okay.”
“How can you just say okay?” he demanded, and I shrugged.
“I got high yesterday. Wasn’t my plan, but I did it.”
“But that’s weed. That doesn’t count.”
“My point was—I don’t judge. I’ve seen a lot of people do drugs. Sometimes…running away is all you have.”
A frown deepened his brow. “What makes you think I’m running away?”
“Nothing,” I admitted. “I was thinking of going to the studio for an hour to dance before Doc gets here to pick me up.” I’d have to shower again, but it would be worth it if it pulled Freddie out of this funk. There was absolutely nothing to be done about the past. Just the present and hopefully the future. “There’s more coffee in the kitchen, and Jasper got me donuts…”
“If I touch your donuts, Jasper will cut my nuts off.”
“If they’re my donuts, you can touch them if I say so. Grab some donuts and some coffee, then come meet me.” I winked at him as I stood. “If you want. You don’t have to.”
I was halfway to the stairs when Freddie said, “What changed?”
I paused and glanced over my shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Between before I fucked up and after. You didn’t want anything to do with us, Boo-Boo. Now you’re…” He studied me.
“Now I’m…?” I turned to face him, arms folded, more curious than anything else.
“You’re…present and you seem happier.”
I didn’t really have an answer for him. “You’re not the only one still figuring things out,” I said. “But I think you’re lucky.”
“How’s that?” He raked his hand through his tumble of messy hair and seemed both far too young and too old in the same breath. Maybe it was his baby face or his bruised eyes.
“You have a lot of backup. The guys will do anything for you.”
“Then you must be lucky too,” he said with the first real smile of the day. “’Cause I’m telling you, Boo-Boo, they would do anything for you.” The smile turned cocky and his playful expression turned almost leering as he wagged his eyebrows. “Hell, I’d do anything to you or for you too, and not just ’cause I want to tap that sexy ass.”
I laughed and pirouetted before facing the other way. “My sexy ass is going to the studio, follow if you want.”
I was almost to the door of the studio when he called, “So is there a prize if I follow? Like the secret to tapping that ass?”
A real snort of laughter escaped, and I shook my head. At least he was cracking horrible jokes. Inappropriate or not, that loss and sadness in his eyes seemed too achingly familiar, and I wanted to make it go away. Shoes off, I stripped down to just the tank and dance pants.
There was something to be said for basically only having workout gear. I was going to have to figure out the money situation because I was going to need new clothes. I went to drop a CD into the player and glanced at the closet with all the dance shoes.
They’d covered those for the time being, and I had a whole other list of questions about the guys and how they knew me. Why I was so important. Why they wanted to protect me so much. None of them had really answered me so far.
And I hadn’t forgotten.
I set the phone down with my other stuff and backed up as the music began to play. I needed to stretch before I did anything, but the music chased away the whirlwind of thoughts and let me be present.
Stretch. Dance. Fly.
Freedom was the place between the notes, the moments in between the steps, and when I let go and just flew.
At least this hadn’t changed.
Crash
Emersyn
Laughter eddied up from every table in the place. The whole of the show was here from performers to tech crew to the costumers and musicians. Even our much beloved director, infamous for his shrill meltdowns and scathing tirades was tucked away in a corner booth, cheerfully slaying a bottle of vodka.
The tour was over. Eighty-one cities. One hundred and ninety-four performances. Nine thousand four hundred and sixty-one miles traveled. I’d lost track of how many actual hours spent in studios, on stages, and practicing in hallways, busses, and planes.
It had been my largest tour to date and the troubled economy had kept my uncle very busy with corporate maneuverings. There’d been an SEC investigation and more. Not that I paid much attention other than to be utterly relieved that our visits began to stretch out further and further in between.
My only regret was that with the ending of this tour I would have to go home. There would be a car waiting for me in the morning, probably before dawn, and a drive to the airport, where a private plane would whisk me hom
e. A part of me wished that I were brave enough to just walk out of the bar and keep walking, to disappear into anonymity and never be found again.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I could do for a living. At fourteen, I wasn’t even old enough to get a job in most states, and my salary from the tour was handled through electronic deposit. In theory, I’d made a hell of a lot of money in the last six years since my first tour. In reality, I couldn’t touch it without my uncle, since he controlled all of my finances.
The allowance from my parents was one oversight he’d made, and I’d gotten one of the dancers to help me open a different account and put as much money into that account as I could. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet. I stared across the bar to where Eric was making out with one of the line dancers and let out a little sigh. He was gorgeous, and he could be as impulsive and hot-tempered as the director, but he was also sweet.
The last thing I needed was a crush.
“Psst, Emmie-bug,” Christian said as he and Jaime swung by where I was seated. They had glasses in their hand, including a Coke for me. “Just for you tonight. And just the one.” He winked and slid the drink over to me.
At my quizzical look, Jaime laughed and took a deep drink of her wine, then gave her glass a look before looking at my Coke. Jaime and Christian had let me have my first sip of vodka at New Year’s. She was always willing to share her wine, though she used to tease it was probably too cheap for my refined palate.
I always laughed, but it wasn’t like that at all. Still, I lifted the Coke and took a sip, and I swore my eyes watered and it took everything I had not to cough. Christian burst out laughing as he reached over and dropped a kiss on my head.
“Killer tour, Emmie-bug, and you’re turning out to be the best aerialist we’ve ever seen.”
“No lie,” Jaime agreed. “We’re going to miss you for the next few months. But you’re doing the Mysterious Movement tour, yes?”
“Yes,” I promised. “Already signed the contracts. Rehearsals start in ten weeks?”
Ten weeks was so long.
“I know,” Jaime said with a groan. “I was hoping for a longer break.”
Not me, but I couldn’t tell them that. Instead, I summoned a smile and touched my glass to theirs and took another drink before I stood and gave them both hugs. They were already ducking out early. Probably going to celebrate privately.
The best thing I ever did was tell them to kiss. They said if they ever got married, I’d have to be the best man. Or at least that was what Christian joked. All too soon, they were gone, and I nursed my alcohol laden Coke slowly as the conversation in the bar washed over me. It was nice. There was music playing somewhere
Some of the dancers were leaping up and pulling their partners with them to show off or just play. Renae and Jules were out there dancing together, and I laughed when she skipped across the floor and tugged me out of the booth.
“Stop hiding, you sweet little thing, and come shake that moneymaker.” The music kicked up a notch like someone turned it up, or maybe it was the alcohol and where the makeshift dancefloor had formed, but I was liquid and loose and I let the throbbing beat dictate my movements.
I danced with the girls. With the guys. I danced by myself. I was sweating by the time we’d moved through a dozen songs and headed to the bar to get some water. The bartender slid across the requested water, and as soon as I’d downed it, he winked and gave me another Coke.
A part of me said I should refuse, but it wasn’t like I’d ordered it. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing, hot stuff. If you’re around in a couple of hours…I’ll be free.”
“Thank you,” I said and my face was hot, but I hoped that was just from the dancing. He gave me a wink and a grin before he leaned against the bar.
“I’m…”
“Yo, asshole, drinks down here and hit on the pretty girls later.”
My face truly flamed at that comment as the bartender glared down at whomever had called him. I laughed and saluted him with my drink. It was very sweet. Jaime was always telling me how attractive I was, but most of the company saw me as a kid and I was okay with that. The weird fluttery feeling at the bartender being so sweet was new.
Eric had gotten me to feel that once or twice, but he seemed to like the girls with real tits and I didn’t think I was ever getting mine. I hadn’t even started my period until the year before, and it was so inconsistent that I never knew when I’d be getting it, so I got birth control just to make sure I didn’t have it on performance nights.
That was the best explanation for it and I stuck to it.
Drink in hand, I headed back to the table. More of the troupe had left. The director had snuck off with one of the choreographers. They were both married. To other people. But neither of their spouses had been on the tour, and everyone else knew they’d been having sex.
I’d walked in on them twice.
I never needed to know my director had a mole on his ass.
Ever.
I knocked back most of the soda before I let Renae drag me back out to dance. If I’d been warm before, I was on fire now. But we laughed. We danced. The bartender kept sending over drinks. The third one made me woozy, even after I ate some chips, so I just started passing the drinks to Renae or Jules.
Eventually, it was just too damn hot in there, even after the water, so I went to the bathroom, washed my hands, and then splashed some cold water on my cheeks. When I came back out, Renae and Jules were heading outside with Renae miming smoking.
That sounded good. It would be cooler out there, I hoped. The floor proved a bit more uneven than it had earlier, and I had to focus to avoid staggering and tripping.
Outside, the girls laughed at me, but passed me a cigarette and helped me light it. No chaperone. No tutor. No leash and eyes on me. Tonight was my last moment of freedom for ten weeks. The girls were chatting about some guys in the bar, but other than the dancers and tech people I knew, I hadn’t paid attention. Well, except to the bartender. He was cute.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out. My uncle’s name flashed across the screen, and I clicked ignore, then turned my phone off and shoved it back in my pocket. Oops, dead battery.
A shudder raced up my spine, and my stomach twisted. Renae and Jules headed back inside but I leaned against the building, eyes closed and letting the cool air dry the sweat on me.
I didn’t want to puke.
Dammit.
Just the thought, and I stumbled away from the building and toward the side. I didn’t want anyone to see me. Doubled over, I threw up until there was nothing left in my stomach to throw up anymore.
I swayed. The world flashed hot and cold.
It even took me a minute to realize someone was holding me up. Then there was a cool cloth being washed over my face and a bottle of water was held out.
“Rinse your mouth out,” a voice suggested. My eyes were watering so bad from throwing up that I could barely make out the dark eyes and dark hair. I thought he might be one of the techs.
Good enough. I rinsed out my mouth twice, then spat. Then took a drink. It barely hit my stomach before it came back up.
A soft chuckle tickled my ears.
“Fuck you,” I growled, though I was pretty sure it came out some kind of mewling whine. “Not nice to laugh at people being sick.”
“I’m laughing because you danced your ass off while tossing back rum and Cokes like they were candy and then started smoking like you do it every day.”
“How do you know I don’t?” Who the hell was he?
“’Cause you’re puking and you look like shit. Here, drink more, just slowly this time. Sips.”
I groaned and sipped the water. “I hate you.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that. You want me to get one of your friends from inside?”
Seriously. None of the people left were my friends, and very shortly, I wouldn’t see a lot of them again. The shows and the tours changed. The performers ca
me and went. I could count on my hands how many people I knew now that I’d known since I was eight.
The world swayed, and the sidewalk shifted.
“Easy…” The voice came and went.
“I need a taxi,” I said and tried to turn toward the street.
“Yeah,” my new companion said. “You do.”
“The ground is moving.”
“Is it?” He sounded almost amused.
“Yes.”
I frowned. I had excellent balance, but I couldn’t seem to stand straight or still for very long. It took me a minute to realize we’d started moving again. Only, my feet weren’t moving. I frowned at them because they were visible directly and I wasn’t looking at the ground.
Head tilting back, I stared up at the man holding me. “Where are we going?”
“To your hotel.”
“I need a cab.”
“One is on the way.”
A car pulled up somewhere, and he turned us.
“You should put me down,” I said.
“You’re not heavy.”
“Yeah, it’s not that. I’m going to…” I threw up. He barely got me turned away from him before I yukked up mostly water. My throat burned and so did my eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said in a soft voice, but his tone shifted when he continued, “Get something she can use as a barf bag. We’re going to get her to the hotel. You two deal with Romeo in there.”
“Got it,” came the lazy response. “She gonna be okay?”
“She better be,” my savior muttered. Then we were in the back of the car and moving. I leaned my head back against the seat. I was hot, miserable, and tired.
“This is a very nice cab.” Probably the nicest one I’d ever been in. “I have money.” I patted my pockets for the spare cash I’d brought with me in case I needed it.
“I got it.”
“But you don’t know where you’re going—Oh wait. Of course you do. You’re with the show.”
