“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.
In a millisecond, Phee's eyes glassed over. She blinked. The tears filling her eyes overflowed and ran down her cheeks. Had she ever seen Phoenix cry as much as she had lately? Was any of what they’d been doing, helping her?
“You want to know why I won’t go out with Declan? I'd only hurt him in the end. I’m … damaged.”
Oh, God. Just like Nathan…
She really believed she was so damaged she didn’t deserve a good man. Their father didn’t deserve the second chance Luna was pushing for, but Phee did, and more. She didn't know what else to do, so she let instinct take over. She jogged to her sister, threw her arms around her, and held on. One little shake from Phoenix's shoulders and Starr's own eyes too filled with tears.
“No, you won't hurt him. You’re better than that. Phee, you have so much love to give.” Starr breathed in the familiar scent of her cinnamon-scented shampoo. They all used it. “Yes, I'm in love with Nathan. I don't know how far things will go, but there's one thing I know for certain.” She pulled back and held her sister's gaze, her hands cupping her shoulders. “No one—and I mean no one—will ever separate me from you or Luna again. Not Nathan, not Dad, not Declan. I won’t let it.”
Phee didn't say anything.
“Believe me.” Why would she, though? Of the three of them, Phee’d had it the worst. “This Dad thing? You don't have to spend any time with him. Okay? You don’t even have to dance in this show.” She meant it.
Her sister just nodded.
The fragility of the delicate frame under her hands scared her. Her sister's attitude had made Phee seem larger, more physically imposing than she really was.
Phee swiped under her eyes. “Just hormonal, that's all.” Her eyes cleared, and she swallowed hard,
but at least her features were no longer frozen. “I won't let him take dancing from me. He won't take anything from me ever again.”
She wouldn’t let Robert O’Malley take from her again, either. “Hey, how about we find those blue salsa dresses? The ones with the angled fringe and the mass of crystals here.” Starr ran her hand over her left shoulder and over her heart.
Phee's mouth twisted upward. “Much better. The salsa dresses would work for all of us.”
“We're triplets. We pretty much look good in the same things.” She bumped her shoulder against Phee's.
“Some things look better on you.” Phee walked back to the garment rack and began swiping dresses left and right.
“Like gold?” she teased.
Phee's hands stilled, but she didn't turn. “Like love.”
Starr got it. In fact, maybe she'd ask Nathan to marry her. Her life wasn't going to be about men, but it might have room for one man.
33
Of all the MacKenna-forced changes in his life, moving into Trick's apartment was the easiest. He'd woken up that morning plastered to Starr’s back, which was all the incentive he needed to start something. He'd flipped her over to find sleepy eyes glazed with hunger, just as they’d been every morning that week. Where they’d lived or slept didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was she was with him.
“Please, Nathan.”
He circled his finger between her legs. “Please, what?”
“Fuck me.”
He pushed a finger into her, and she groaned.
“But more.”
“You want more?” He curled his finger inside her.
“Yes, like that, like you love me.”
He grinned. Oh, hell yes.
He withdrew his finger, captured her wrist, and pulled her arm up over her head. Her delighted gasp made him harden to steel. When he pitched deeply into her, she blew a puff of air in his ear and whispered, “Oh, God”. Fuck, he hoped he'd never get used to her tight clamp around his cock, his body instantly filling with warmth everywhere as if he'd been lit up from the inside.
He nipped her neck just under her ear, which earned him another satisfying cry. He picked up the pace. Her hips met every thrust. It was her signal to go harder and faster, and god, he loved that he knew she had signals.
Her lips locked on his. She keened into his mouth as he took her over the sweet edge of oblivion and then followed.
During sex, she was loud, and he liked it. She held nothing back, not her love of sex, not her stubbornness to keep seeing him even though she shouldn't. They'd had some rip-roaring fights about separating, one out on a public street. A woman walking by had offered to call the police on him. He hadn't noticed before, but, women, strangers, came to each other's rescue as if sisters in arms. He'd never paid attention, but then he’d never been in love before. There’d been no love in his marriage.
Both of them panting, he eased himself off her and took a moment to let his skin cool. It would have been the perfect time to say those three little words: “I love you.” He really needed to just spill. He drank in her profile as she stared up at the ceiling.
“Starr, I ...”
“Shhh.” She raised a finger. After a minute, her eyes cleared, and she smiled at him. “I was running choreography in my head.”
He chuckled. She was never far from the stage, even one minute after sex.
She turned to her side, head on arm. “I keep forgetting this one part, so I'm running it a lot up here.” She pointed to her forehead.
“That help?”
“Absolutely. Hey.” She leaned up on her elbows, her nudity on full, uninhibited display—a trait he adored in her. “What time is it?”
“Ten.”
“Shit.” She’d kicked at the sheets to climb out of the bed. “I'm going to be late.”
His hand fell to the pillow. “You need to wait for me so I can go with you.”
“What for? Declan has every bouncer on overtime guarding the place.”
“That's only when you get there. I'm driving you.”
“Over-protective male.” She leaned down and pecked him on the nose. “I kinda like it. Now that Declan is reopening, we're going to be busy tonight.”
Thank God. The eighteen-day suspension Declan endured had Nathan's shoulders and back aching every night from rearranging furniture. While the girls practiced for their show, he and every other muscle guy employed by Declan helped workers with every job conceivable. They switched out a broken railing, put up new mirrors in the bathroom, and moved the newly reupholstered chairs and booths around. The place looked the same to him when it was done, but Jackie had squealed about the new “nouveau beaux arts” look or some shit.
Starr stretched her arms to the ceiling. “I am so sore.”
“Too much practice?”
“No such thing.” She leaned backward.
“It looks like your show's going to sell out.”
She grunted at the tingling in her shoulder. “It was the Baltimore Sun piece. Thank God for Declan's contacts and the Fitzroy Hotel.” She dropped her arms.
The number of tickets sold had required a larger venue, so the show had moved to the old hotel next door, which would only add to the ambiance. The ballroom had been witness to a mob murder back in the prohibition era. Declan wasn’t happy about Shakedown not getting the gig, but he capitulated when he learned he got top billing. He brought in special rigging to the Fitzroy for the aerial acts, half of which were paid for by the hotel, grateful for the renewed exposure they were getting. They donated hotel rooms to the out-of-town acts, which helped Starr and her sisters sell out-of-town performers on appearing. With no liquor to buy, most of the tickets sales could easily cover the ballroom rental and produce a tidy profit—stuff Trick went on and on about that was all Greek to him.
She nudged Nathan. “You getting up?”
“Hey.” He grasped her around the waist before she darted away. “How about a shower together first?”
“Only if we make it fast.”
“I like it fast.”
She giggled, pushed him off her, and headed to the bathroom. She paused in the doorway, her hand resting on the frame. The light silhouetted her curves. “Well?” She laughed. “What are you waiting for?”
“I love you.” Maybe the words leaped out because they'd sat on his tongue for too long. “I mean—”
“You do?”
His heart did that hitching thing whenever near her, not anxious just ... alive. “Yeah. I do.”
Her eyes twinkled with a happiness he couldn't have dreamed of. “Good. It sucks to be in love alone.” She slipped into the bathroom.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, half imagining her response. When he heard the rush of water, that was all he needed to rise and go to her. She loved him. Holy shit. It would take a miracle for them to ever let them leave this apartment again.
The shower proved to be a fine time to demonstrate how much he loved every single damned inch of her. By the time he was able to turn off the water and let her go, the air was thick with steam, condensation trailed lines down the mirror, and even the tile floor was slick with moisture. He’d gotten lost in her hair, her warmth, and her scent. If this was all he'd ever get in his lifetime, it was enough.
34
Nathan could no longer watch the woman swinging on the trapeze. She had a death wish. How she sat on that little bar with a huge bubble of material in pink, green, and white hanging off her backside, he'd never know. But between the delighted gasps and sudden bursts of applause, Nathan's pride in the girls grew. The show's crowd was twice what they'd expected.
Along with huge swaths of parachute silk and gauze to add ambiance, large screen TVs had been set up in four corners so no one missed any of the acts. The incessant horns, drums, and flapping of fabric lost all musicality and dissolved into noise. He should be used to this by now. The club was noisy as hell, but perhaps this crowd’s size was getting to him. It was five times the size
of Shakedown, and the press of warm bodies made him gulp air as if there was a limit to the oxygen in the room. Or perhaps it was because Ruark MacKenna hadn’t made an appearance anywhere in over twenty days, something he should be glad about, but instead, served to increase his unease. The man was planning something.
Nathan wiped his forehead with a napkin and continued to scan the floor. So far, the crowd was fairly tame despite the delighted applause and shouts of appreciation for the acts. Guess the no-alcohol rule helped keep things to a civilized level.
Moving deeper into the vast ballroom, he glanced around as much as he could and marked the exits to either side out of habit. Max roamed the place like a panther stalking prey, his back as rigid as Nathan's felt. Cocktail waitresses hurried between the table rounds. A greasy bacon scent wafted up from a tray Gabrielle held as she scooted by.
He eyed the broad back of a man with unruly black hair, lifting a drink to his lips. A stab of anger pierced his gut. The man turned. He was not MacKenna, so his body stood down—a bit.
With dry ice smoke snorting through its nostrils, Phoenix Rising took to the stage on a mechanical bull. He had to admit it was an impressive act. The next act was the hunter-prey bit Starr had told him about. The stagehands erected the forest of mannequins dressed in safari gear. Nathan had a momentary jolt of fear only seeing Phoenix and Luna take the stage for the act. Starr's idea should include her, but yet she didn’t dance.
Instead, Luna and a girl he didn’t recognize stalked the stage in undulating movements like sensual birds on a mission. At the end, the mannequins broke apart into individual limbs when the heavy netting dropped from the ceiling to ensnare the predators. Luna placed one foot on the head of one of the captured mannequins and struck a victory pose. The act had the audience on its feet.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 80