Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Thank You
Other Books
About the author
Dazzle Me
by
Juliana Haygert
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Juliana Haygert.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
First Edition February 2017
ww.JulianaHaygert.com
Proofread by H. Danielle Crabtree
Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs
Photography by Lindee Robinson
Any trademark, service marks, product names, or names featured are the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if one of these terms is used.
Chapter One
Rayna
My heart beat in rhythm with the song.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
I waltzed to the right, added a turn, then did a small pique, and arabesque. The song ended and the little girls seated along the mirrored wall applauded, cheering with loud “yays” and “woots.” Smiling, I turned to my young students—eleven girls around six or seven years old—and bowed.
“Now, come join me,” I said, beckoning for them to stand. They shot up and rushed to my side in the middle of the classroom.
I positioned them along two lines, facing the mirror, and used my cell phone to start the song again. I stood a few feet in front of them, to the side, and watched them through the mirror as they started following the steps we had been learning all month.
Dressed in pink leotards, skirts, tights, and ballet shoes, the girls danced, their movements still unsure and a little awkward. It was okay, though. This wasn’t the most formal ballet studio out there, thank goodness, and they could be themselves.
Through the mirror, I saw someone standing by the half-open door.
I smiled and, under her hoodie, she smiled back at me.
There were only three minutes left in class. The girls would love if I …
My smile widened as I quickly swapped songs—from the music of their winter recital in a couple of months, to the pop song currently ranked number one on the country. Probably in the whole world.
The girls shrieked and started dancing, imitating the singer and the moves from her music video.
Little did they know…
The young woman at the door marched into the classroom until she was standing right in the center. Though only a couple stopped dancing, all the little girls stared at her, probably wondering who the hell was this girl and why was she interrupting their class.
Then the new figure pulled off her hoodie, removed her sunglasses, and smiled at the little girls. They shrieked some more and ran to Sienna Sparks—award-winning singer/songwriter—and embraced her legs. They screamed her name and asked for hugs and kisses and photos.
“How about we dance first?” Sienna said. I restarted the song and the girls, barely containing more shrieks, went back to their lines. Sienna glanced at me. “You too, Miss Rayna Monroe.”
Rolling my eyes, I joined her in the center of the classroom. We all sang as if we had angel voices like Sienna, and when the chorus started, we all performed the choreography as if we were the dancers on stage with her.
The girls were in heaven and I loved knowing I was partly responsible for their smiles right now. After all, Sienna wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.
Parents and guardians arrived to pick up their daughters and sisters, but when they saw Sienna dancing with their kids, they started snapping pictures—which would probably appear on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter in less than ten seconds.
Sienna didn’t have much time before paparazzi showed up here.
I ushered the girls out of the classroom and into their parents’ arms, listening to a lot of “thank-you” and “you’re amazing” and “I love your best friend.” I had heard them all before.
When they were all gone, I closed the classroom door and leaned against it.
“You’re crazy,” I said, shaking my head at Sienna.
Still smiling, she shrugged. “What? It’s fun. Did you see their faces? I love that. Making them happy.”
And that was one of the reasons America, and the entire world, loved her so much. The world had stolen my best friend from me, but what could I do? The girl was too talented not to share her gift.
I walked to one of the classroom’s corners. “Now they’ll ask for you every class.”
“You can always tell them I said hi.”
“As if that would be enough.” I turned off the stereo and picked up my leg warmers, before turning to Sienna. “What are you doing here, anyway? Didn’t you have an interview or something?”
“An interview with a radio station,” she said. “That was pushed to tomorrow afternoon, which freed up the rest of my day.”
I faked a gasp. “What? Sienna Sparks doesn’t have plans for Sunday evening?”
She slapped my shoulder. “I hate that name,” she muttered. Sparks was her stage name, given to her by her manager when he first discovered her at thirteen. Six years later, it was still catchy. “And I do have plans. With you.”
“Oh, no, no.” I shoved the leg warmers inside my tote. “I have plans too. Other plans.”
“Oh, I know all about your plans. They haven’t changed since we were ten years old. You’ll have lunch now, then you’ll dance and dance and dance, until it’s bedtime. At ten on a Sunday.” Sienna rolled her eyes. “B-O-R-I-N-G.”
I shook my head. “This time is different. I’m starting my new job Tuesday. I have to be prepared.”
“That’s exactly the reason we have to go out to celebrate tonight. Because you have a new job. Your dream job! Why wouldn’t you want to celebrate it? And with me?”
I smiled. “Are you really going to use that card?”
“The we-don’t-see-each-other-much card? Absolutely.” She batted her unnaturally long lashes at me. “Pretty please. We’ll go out for lunch now, and then we can go to my apartment and have mani-pedis and massages. Later, we can go out for dinner and dancing. I promise I won’t deliver you back home late. Not too late, anyway.”
I bit my lower lip. Damn it, she had a nice argument there. And she was right, I hadn’t celebrated yet. Well, I did celebrate it the way my mother thought was best: by dancing some more. And,
with her career growing by leaps, Sienna was always so busy. It was a miracle to have her to myself on a Sunday.
More importantly, my mother was out of town. If she were around, she would never let me go, but with her gone, she would never know. I had just told Sienna about my mother being out of town last night. There was no way out of it.
And her plans did sound lovely.
I sighed. “Okay.”
She smiled and hugged me briefly. “Yes! This is going to be fun.”
“I have just one request.”
“Name it.”
“Can we invite Alicia?”
“The blond girl that was at your apartment when we did our last girls’ night out?” she asked, frowning. That girls’ night out had actually been a girls’ night in, over two months ago. “Sure, why not? She seemed pretty cool.”
“Great.” I squeezed my phone, texting Alicia. “Now let’s get off here before an army of paparazzi show up.”
“I’ll text my driver.” She stopped, pulled her hoodie over her head, put on her sunglasses, and sent a quick message. Her phone dinged five seconds later. “He’ll be here in two minutes.” She took my hand in hers and pulled me toward the exit. “Let’s go.”
***
Josh
“One more here,” I said, raising my phone in front of me to take a selfie.
I hated selfies. I hated Facebook and Instagram and all that shit—because I couldn’t post about my real life. But I had to do something. So I took picture after picture, selfie after selfie, but they weren’t for me.
Robbie cursed under his breath, but posed beside me with a big smile. I made sure that the building behind me was centered in the photo before snapping it.
I lowered my phone and checked the screen. That was a good one, good enough to send to my parents.
Robbie groaned. “How long are you going to keep that shit up?”
I pocketed my phone and shrugged. “I don’t know. As long as necessary.”
“And when it won’t be necessary, huh? You won’t be able to keep it from them forever.”
True. A huge lie like this, if I pulled it off for an entire year, I would already be pushing my luck.
But I could hope.
“Shut up. I don’t want to think about it,” I snapped. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I resumed walking. I had been in New York City for a week now and all I had done was touristing. I had seen Central Park, Times Square, Fifth Avenue, the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, Chinatown, and so many other places.
This city … it was magical. Every step I took, in any direction, I saw the clash of different cultures, of different energies, and they all stood so well together. And at night? It was like this place came alive. The city that never sleeps—it was the perfect nickname.
I was in love with New York City.
We kept on walking up and down the streets, looking for the university’s buildings. At an intersection, two guys played violin and keyboard and two other guys danced to their song. It was a neat mix of classical with hip hop. The dancers didn’t disappoint either. They moved with the beat, as fluid as water.
“Josh.” Robbie nudged my ribs. “You should take a pic of them too. You know, you find shit like this all over New York. It would be a nice one to send to your parents.” I could hear the sarcasm in his voice.
But he was right. This was a part of New York and my mother would appreciate seeing it.
I lifted my phone over the small crowd around the performers and snapped a picture. Through the camera, I saw a guy crouched on the other side of the crowd, opening an old lady’s purse.
I didn’t know what came over me, I just acted. I sprinted around the crowd, going for the guy as he pulled the old lady’s wallet out of her purse.
“Hey!” I yelled. The guy froze for a second, then dashed away.
“Fuck,” I muttered, running after him.
With my long legs, and history on the track team in high school, I ran fast, and caught up with the thief in less than fifteen seconds. By then, the group had stopped playing and everyone was watching us. Several people were yelling things like “thief!” and “get him!”
I closed my hand on the guy’s collar and tugged. He fell down on his butt and I snatched the wallet from his hands. I wanted to kick him for being so stupid. Why the fuck steal from an old lady? Poor woman could barely stand by herself.
“I hope you learned your lesson,” I said through gritted teeth.
Two cops approached us and I turned back to the crowd, where the old lady watched, her mouth hanging open, and her arms around her purse. With her gray hair, soft wrinkles, and fake pearl necklace, she looked a whole lot like my grandmother.
I returned the wallet to her. “Here you go, ma’am.”
Smiling, she took the wallet from me. “Thank you, young man. What great character you have. Your parents must be very proud of you.”
Her words were like a knife slicing through my gut.
Yeah, right, my parents were proud of me. Of the fucking lie I was feeding them.
I dreaded the day they found out the truth.
“You’re welcome,” I muttered, retreating a couple of steps.
I wanted to bolt, but one of the cops had already turned to me and asked about what had happened. It was just a few questions, a few answers, then they scribbled down my phone number. Soon I was walking away with Robbie.
“Quite the hero,” he said as we crossed the street.
“Shut up,” I snapped.
We had plans to play tourist some more, but suddenly I wasn’t in the mood. But, as I thought about going back to our apartment in uptown, more dread and frustration made their way into my chest.
Beside me, Robbie’s cell dinged. He pulled it out of his pocket and read the message.
“Hey, the crew is meeting tonight at The Red Velvet,” he said, his eyes on the sidewalk. “Want to go?”
I opened my mouth to say no, but stopped.
Since I got here a week ago, Robbie had been out with his friends three or four times. He had invited me every single time and I had said no. I hadn’t come to NYC to party and drink and have fun. I was here on serious business.
But … just this once, I should go with him and try to relax a little. I deserved that before starting my new life.
I sighed. “Sure.”
Chapter Two
Rayna
Sienna sent two of her goons—aka her bodyguards—several hours ahead of us to secure a table right in front of the dance floor, with a good view of the stage. Her words. Poor men didn’t even blink as she gave them her orders.
I guessed they were used to her. Not that she was a bad boss, but after being practically raised as a famous teenager, some things came naturally. Like being the bossy boss.
Another one of her goons rode in the taxi with us. She didn’t want to take her super fancy Range Rover because the paparazzi knew it and it would blow her cover. As usual, she had put on one of her disguises.
With a green wig over her naturally red curls, and fake eyelashes and enough makeup to rival a drag queen, Sienna really didn’t look like her famous counterpart. Her crazy ensemble did get a lot of stares and sometimes a few laughs, but at least nobody ever recognized her.
“This wig is new,” I said, seated beside her in the back of the taxi. We spoke in hushed tones, so the driver couldn’t hear us. “I mean, I’ve seen you with a green wig before, but it was a lighter shade.”
“Wow, you have good memory.” She smiled at me. “Yeah, the other green was too used up. Lots of strands missing.”
The taxi stopped in front of Alicia’s building. The blond girl was waiting for us on the steps, looking like a top model in a little black dress that made her look even leaner and more elegant than she already was.
Sienna’s goon exited the car and opened the taxi’s door.
I stretched over Sienna and waved at her. “Hey, it’s us. Si here is in disguise.”
Alicia’s lig
ht gray eyes widened and then a smile spread over her lips. She rushed to the taxi and took the bodyguard’s seat in the back with us, while he went to the passenger seat beside the driver, who didn’t look pleased with the big guy dressed in all black beside him.
In hushed tones so the driver couldn’t overhear, Sienna explained to Alicia how she had about twenty different wigs and neon makeup pallets and flashy dresses—even flashier than the ones she wore during her concerts—so she could go out without being recognized and just be herself. Well, almost.
At The Red Velvet the bouncer let us in without having to wait in line one second, and as we approached our reserved table, the goons stepped back and disappeared into the crowd. From experience, I knew they were close, their eyes and ears open, their attention always on Sienna. At least they weren’t dressed in their usual black suit/white shirt/black sunglasses, otherwise it would be harder for Sienna to blend in.
“I haven’t been here in so long,” I said, taking the place in.
It had been two years since I had last been here—at seventeen. We were already using fake IDs back then—the club hadn’t changed much. Like the name indicated, almost everything was covered in red. Not actually a good point, in my opinion.
The dance floor, with its red tiles, was located right in the middle of the club. On one side was a stage where an unknown local band played. Across from that, the space was dotted with rectangular tables surrounded by red chairs. Past the tables and chairs was the long bar—also red. And on the other two sides were tall round tables and red stools, with red velvet sofas along the walls. We sat around one of those tall round tables, taking in the scene.
From here, I could see the VIP balcony upstairs. Sienna always teased she would get one of those areas with red sofas and low tables and private bars, but she never did. She knew people would stare even more and try to figure out who she was if she stood out too much.
Alicia sat beside me. “Ray, are you nervous?”
I looked at her. “A little.”
“Me too,” she said, staring at her glass of orange juice.
Dazzle Me (When You Dance Book 1) Page 1