“What’d they say?” Josh asked.
“They thanked me. Said they’d look into it.”
“That seems like a lot of work for your dad, and not really his style.” Jay Shaw hated me, but he was more of a reputation ruiner than someone who’d take a baton to another person’s knee. Or carve a divot into a stage and hope I hit my mark. I’d love for him to get what he had coming to him, but he hadn’t done this. I’d stake my tassels on it.
“He always manages to slip by.” He didn’t even seem to be talking to me now. “The man is—nothing fucking touches him.”
The bitterness in Lan’s voice hurt me. Not that he wasn’t right. Mr. Shaw had ruined my life for a time. He’d taken everything that mattered to me as if it was his right. And while I would never forgive him, I didn’t waste my time hating him. Things would catch up to him someday. If not in this life, then as my gram used to say, in the next.
Lan rubbed his hand over his chest as if it pained him, and suddenly, his tattoo made all the sense in the world. “What goes around, comes around.”
He darted his gaze to mine, beautiful blue eyes wide. “Oh. Lan.” So much hurt. I had barely seen the tip of that iceberg. I reached for him, drawing his head to my chest so I could embrace him. He was slow to rise and embrace me, but when he did, it was so tight.
“I hate him, Betsy.” His voice shook.
I leaned over and kissed the top of his head, breathing him in. Hate won’t get you anywhere. I had learned that long ago. For months, my hate had paralyzed me. “I know.”
He shook his head, like I couldn’t possibly.
“I tried.” He sounded like a wounded animal, ready to lash out and bite. “I called the state legislature, told them about some of the more nefarious dealings he had. They pretty much laughed in my face. But when I was free of him—monetarily—I went back. I told him the Shaw name would die with me. All of his plotting and planning was for nothing, because he’d never ever see me again. Then I donated my trust fund to a charity, a place Jay would have hated but you’d have loved. All I accomplished at the end of all that was he looked older when I left. Grayer.”
I wanted to see his face while I said this, so I pushed him away. Studying him, his anger and hurt right on the forefront, I wondered at having not noticed how tense he always was. His shoulders were tight. Arms flexed. He must have been grinding his teeth, the muscles near his ears flexed and popped. I put my thumbs over them, massaging gently. “Don’t you think I get hate?” I asked.
The air whooshed out of him and he bowed his head.
I wasn’t trying to hurt him, and I wasn’t in his father’s corner, but he had to know this. “Landry.”
He wouldn’t look at me, so I slid off the bench. He moved quickly, hands on my waist so I didn’t hurt myself. “Landry,” I started again. “Your dad can go fuck himself. He’s not worth your time or mine.”
“How can you say that?” The tension returned full force. His body was a live wire, trembling beneath my hands. “If it hadn’t been for him, we’d have never left. You’d have never struggled. My daughter would be alive.”
“That’s a dangerous path,” I whispered. “I’ve gone down it, Lan.”
“Another thing to hate him for.”
Someone gripped my shoulder, and I turned my head to see Josh, offering me his silent support. He nodded, encouraging me.
“Your tattoo.” He would see it every day, and it would stoke his anger, making the flame burn hotter and brighter.
“I’ll get him someday, Bets. For what he did to you. To us. For everything we’ve missed out on.”
The door behind him opened and Candy, Mike, Nell, and the two boys came inside carrying huge paper bags. This conversation was finished for now, but I’d come back to it. Hate was poison, and I wouldn’t let that happen to Lan. “We only have good things ahead of us,” I whispered. He stared at me in shock, and I smiled, shrugging. “Don’t we?”
Fifty-Eight
Landry
“We only have good things ahead of us.”
Had I really heard that?
Betsy winked at me, fully aware of what she’d just laid on me and turned her attention to lunch. Brant and Wes were loaded with sandwiches and salads. They put everything on the floor, and we dug in.
It was like old times, picnicking on the green back at Shawville High School. The four of us, surrounded by laughter, and Betsy—the center of our world.
Good things ahead.
I rubbed my chest, the ink I’d put under my skin burned today. The very idea of my dad having something to do with her injury enraged me, but she was right. A full-frontal assault wasn’t Jay’s style.
Betsy snorted at something Wes said, and I used my sandwich to hide my smile. This was the best day I’d had in eight years.
I should be paying closer attention, memorizing every detail. Just in case.
Betsy caught my eye and some of her joy drained away. She studied me, a little pucker appearing between her dark eyebrows. “Shaw.” She put her sandwich down and held my gaze. “Lighten up.”
Count on Elizabeth Bartlett to call me on my attitude.
I had to do a better job of being in the moment, but it wasn’t something that came naturally. I’d been raised to always be looking ahead, striving toward something. For a long time, that had been success—because I already had Betsy.
And then it had been distraction—something to take my mind off of her.
So now here I was.
“Landry,” Wes called my name. Fucker. I had been enjoying staring at this beautiful girl. “What do you think about taking Betsy on a date tonight?”
Shit. I quickly glanced at Nell and Candy, and then Betsy. Her face had gone red, not embarrassed, but like whatever she saw on my face made her self-conscious. I wasn’t embarrassed by her. God. I hope that wasn’t what she thought.
I stared hard at Wes. Later. I tried to tell him. We don’t know these people.
“Thanks for the sandwich.” Nell stood, tapping Candy on the shoulder.
“I miss all the good stuff,” she muttered as she stood. “What the hell did I sign an NDA for?” But she patted Betsy on the head. “Have some more of that quinoa. You’re going to be burning carbs all afternoon.”
They left, leaving me and my friends, Betsy and Mike.
“We’re not dating.” Betsy took a bite of her quinoa salad. “So you don’t need to come up with an excuse.” That was definitely meant for me.
“I want to take you on a date.” If Josh could have shot laser beams out of his eyes and burned me to the ground, it would have happened right then. “Fuck Lan.”
“Fuck you, Josh,” I returned. “I just didn’t know what we could say in front of Nell and Candy.” I crossed my arms, angry that my hesitation had sent us two steps back. My only intention was to do what Betsy wanted us to do, and not make assumptions about what those things were.
I knew what I wanted, but I was playing the long game here, and I was happy to go at Betsy’s speed.
Fifty-Nine
Betty
With Landry’s explanation, some of the chip on my shoulder healed. He wasn’t embarrassed. He was worried.
But what I said was also true. We weren’t dating right now. This—eating lunch together between sets—this was about all I could give them.
For now.
“I can’t let you go anywhere until your background check is complete,” Mike said. His tone brooked no disagreement. “You can return to the apartment with me. Come to my office. Fill out the paperwork and we’ll go from there. You’re in the service, so it won’t take long. Except for you two.” He stared pointedly at Wes and Josh.
The man just smiled though. “I didn’t like people telling me what to do. But I was honorably discharged. You’ll see that.”
Just like earlier, I wanted to apologize for the intrusion, and I had to swallow it down. This was my life now.
The sudden ringing of my phone startled me. I looked around
for my bag, finding it sitting near one of the machines.
“Got it,” Brant said. He went for my bag and brought it to me. The ringing had stopped by then. The only people who had this number besides the boys were work contacts, so whoever was calling would have to be dealt with. When I got the phone out, Steven’s name—Wonder Twin—flashed across the screen.
I connected the call, and he answered immediately. “Serial Staging wants to meet tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, old lady. Get your hearing checked. Tomorrow.”
Butterflies took flight and whirled around my stomach. “We’re set though.” I went through all the work I’d done last night. Every piece of paperwork had been completed. “Right? I did everything?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I’ve got Aucoin and Celeste coming by tomorrow. Early. So rest up and put on one of those face masks that take care of puffiness.”
I touched beneath my eyes. “My face isn’t puffy.”
The bitch just laughed. “Nine sharp, sunshine. See you then!”
I hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and squealed. I punched the air, kicked with my good foot, and when I fell backwards, punched the air again. “Yes!”
“Did they find the guy?” Landry asked.
He leaned over me, and I grabbed his face, pulling it down to mine. There was no hesitation, he kissed me back. His tongue swept into my mouth, dragging across my teeth and lips. He pulled away. “Did they catch him?”
What was good news to me, was only going to disappoint him, so I gave him one more kiss, hoping to sweeten the news.
“I have a meeting tomorrow that could change my entire life,” I whispered. He helped me to sit up.
Over his head, Mike was smiling. He gave me a thumbs-up. “Nice work.”
“So what is it?” Brant asked. “What put that smile on your face?”
They seemed genuinely interested, and this was the most exciting thing that had happened to me since meeting Steven and taking my career in this direction so… “I have a meeting with a company, Serial Staging, about Belles of the Ball. I can’t remember if I told you about it already, but there will be casts set up in multiple cities. There will be a touring company. It’s going to be incredible.”
Brant’s smile matched the one I knew was on my face. “That’s awesome, Betsy.”
“It’s so exciting!” I balled up my fists, shaking them next to my face. “I had to reschedule after I was hurt, and I’ve been doing so much work, but I never really believed it would happen.”
“Of course it will,” Josh said. “Whatever you put your mind to, you’ll do. Look at all you’ve accomplished already.”
My face heated. The butterflies were doing loop-de-loos and I started to wish I’d had a little less quinoa. There was a knock on the door and Nell and Candy came back. “Is it safe?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied. I reached for my crutch as I sat back onto a bench. “Let’s get this over with.”
The rest of the afternoon was spent on arms and abs before we moved into stretching again. Nell was really into keeping me limber.
I blessed her heart all the way through the exercise. Every so often, my stomach would turn into a bundle of nerves. Nell would yell at me for getting distracted and I’d have to screw my head on straight.
The boys stretched along with me. When I did an arm press, they did an arm press—albeit with much heavier weights. I loved having them next to me. We were a team.
And watching Josh try to get his leg on a bar to stretch was the best thing I’d ever seen in my life. I’d had Candy take a picture.
As I sat, legs in a vee, turning my hips so I could stretch over the leg, I thought about what the next day would bring. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I lowered myself.
“Ow.” Wes sat next to me, trying to do the same thing. I couldn’t look at him or I’d laugh. “So which cast would you be in?” His voice was tight, probably because he was trying to stretch too far.
“Let out a breath when you bend over,” I said. “And stop if it burns. You don’t want to pull something.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him straighten. “Would you travel?” he asked. “Or stay in one city.”
“I’m ready to travel less,” I answered quietly. I came back to the middle and reached my hands over my head before turning to my broken ankle. It was harder to stretch on this side. “I designed cabaret performances for smaller cities. If Serial Staging goes for it, I’d do that, and once a year, tour. Right now, I’m in a new city every few weeks. Even before I went on Jonathan, I was touring every week. The difference was, the apartments and hotels weren’t so nice.”
“What city?” Brant asked.
I didn’t answer, but I could picture my perfect spot in my mind. I’d have a little spot outside a city, drive in when I needed to. But there’d be wide-open spaces around me. Room to breathe.
“I’m not sure,” I half-lied. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask them about what they wanted for the future, but that could very well not include me. In fact, it probably didn’t, so it was better I didn’t know.
Brant nodded, holding my gaze until I couldn’t look at him anymore, afraid he’d see I was holding something back.
“Car is here,” Mike announced.
I stood, about to reach for my crutch, but Brant beat me to it. “Let me help.” Hands sure and gentle, he attached the crutch around my leg. “Is that okay?”
I took a step. “Perfect,” I told him.
“Can we walk you out?” Brant asked. I looked around to see the boys had gathered all their things and stood ready to accompany me. I didn’t see the harm in that.
“Sure.”
We walked down the hall, Mike and Candy leading the way. “You worked so hard today,” Josh said. “Nell doesn’t take it easy on you at all.”
“I don’t want her to,” I replied. The elevator doors opened and we got in. “I have to stay in shape, or it’s going to be so much harder when I can dance again.”
“I remember the hours you used to spend in the old milking parlor,” Josh said.
Oh, shit. I’d totally forgotten about that. Mr. Derry had a building that, when he’d upgraded his dairy farm, went unused. The concrete floor was smooth, and with Josh’s help, we’d cleaned about a seven-foot area for me to use as a dance space. It was there I practiced my arabesque and pirouette. Madame Giroux didn’t want me in her studio when she wasn’t there. I wasn’t good enough, or couldn’t be trusted. Or something.
I went from that spot, covered in dust and smelling like hay, right to the studio many days. Josh would stop by whenever he was done with his chores and watch me.
“I haven’t thought about that in a long time,” I admitted. “It was my very own open-air studio.”
The elevator doors opened. A black car was parked right outside the doors. It was still sunny and probably just as warm. “I’ll see you,” I said, heading toward my ride.
Josh stopped me. “Dinner?”
It was so tempting. Another night with all of them. I glanced at the other three boys, taking in their hopeful expressions. But two nights in a row?
“I have to get ready for my meeting tomorrow,” I said. Josh’s expression changed so quickly, it hurt my heart. “But tomorrow night.” Shame on me for being so easy. “Hopefully I’ll have something to celebrate. And if I don’t, you can console me.” I whispered the last part, but not so quietly the others couldn’t hear me.
Let them work out what I meant.
I waved goodbye to the boys like I didn’t have a care in the world, but once I was in the car, hidden by the tinted glass, I put my face in my hands.
“It was a lot today.” Mike sat in back with me. “All you have to do is give me the word and you’ll have all the space you need.”
I lifted my head and went about taking off the crutch so I could sit back and buckle myself in. “I don’t think I want space just yet.”
He smiled.
“They’re stopping by the apartment building later. I heard you say you needed the night to get ready for your meeting, but I have a feeling they’re going to want to come up.”
I really did need to prepare, and if I wanted to take care of the puffiness Steven alluded to, I needed to get my rest, too. “Not tonight.”
“You got it.” Was it a dick move to tell my security guard not to let up the boys? Probably.
“I’ll text them to come tomorrow,” I said. “That way you don’t have to deal with it.”
“I can start the process without them,” he said. “I’ll probably have their service records and any criminal background done by tonight anyway. Al was working on it when I left.”
“How is Al?” Al, one of Mike’s guards, was a safe subject. “I haven’t seen him since Vegas.”
“Good,” Mike replied but didn’t elaborate.
I glanced at him, lifting my eyebrows. “That’s it?”
He chuckled. “Al’s wife is having a baby and is past her due date. He’s excited about taking paternity leave.”
“That’s wonderful!” It only hurt a little to hear about someone else’s new baby, but that was a lot less than it used to. “Can you find out where she’s registered so I can send a gift?”
“Sure.”
“Betty?” Candy’s voice came over the intercom. I lowered the privacy glass so I could hear her.
When it was in place, she continued. “I’m going to give my supervisor an update on your progress. I have a feeling she’s going to move me to part time. Just days. How do you feel about that?”
“Fine,” I answered. I hadn’t really utilized Candy since the first few days I was in New York. It just took a little bit of practice for me to maneuver around my apartment, but I pretty much had it down. “Though I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll still be days,” she replied. “And I might be wrong. But with the length of time you’re spending at rehab and your commitment to the stretching and work Nell has you doing, I don’t think you’re a twenty-four hours of care sort of girl.”
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