“Good job, ladies!” Donna called out. “Everyone take five!” She walked over to Bridgette, motioning for her to step aside privately.
“What’s up?” she asked, wiping at the sweat trickling down her face. The lights always killed her. It was no wonder she had to wear so much make-up.
“You looked good out there,” Donna said.
“Thanks.” Donna and Barry were the owners of Red Lounge. Bridgette always admired them for running this place as efficiently as they did. It was pretty difficult to keep any business going in the eastern ghetto, considering all the inhabitants were poor, but their set-up was bringing a lot of big spenders from the upper class sections. Bridgette knew it wasn’t easy; however the two of them seemed to make it work. And she knew that, deep down inside, they thought of the girls as family.
“Listen,” she said, her voice lowering. “I have a private party coming in, in about ten minutes. I need you and Michelle to perform for them. You think you can handle that?”
Bridgette shrugged. “Sure,” she answered. She’d done private parties before. It could be a bit more trouble, since they were in the rooms upstairs where there were no security guards posted inside. Barry made sure there were at least two posted out in the halls though, so if they ever got into any real trouble all they had to do was holler.
The way Donna looked at her made Bridgette think there was more to this than she was telling her. She waited for her to continue, but Donna gave her a strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes and then turned to leave. Bridgette walked back down to the dressing rooms to find Michelle. She found her sitting at her table, reapplying her lipstick. Her long, blonde hair flipped over her shoulder when she turned to look up at Bridgette.
“Hey, girl!” she said. “Good job out there. I wish I had your voice.” She pushed her lips out in a pout, her green eyes going all puppy-dog on her. Bridgette laughed and shook her head. This was a common exchange between them.
“We both know you can sing just as well as I do,” she argued.
Michelle waved her off. “Don’t lie to me, it only makes me feel worse.”
Bridgette rolled her eyes, taking a seat at the station beside her. “Donna needs us to do a private party in ten. You cool with that?”
“Sure! Who is it?”
Bridgette shrugged. “Probably some uppers, considering no one from around here could afford it.”
“Maybe I’ll meet my future husband tonight,” she said wistfully. All the girls thought this way. Bridgette was probably the only one who had no desire to marry one of the upper-class men. She hated the social system of the New World. Every time she walked home, she saw the effects of it. From the homeless on the streets, or the boarded up buildings of once beautiful, thriving businesses, it reminded her of how much damage was wrought on all of them. New Berlin was the only major city left. Ludwig and his army of teenagers had almost obliterated the entire world’s population. One man. She could hardly get her head around it. She remembered what it was like in those first few months – the bombs, the panic.
The first time communications went down, everyone was left in the dark. They soon learned they had been reduced to a third of the world’s population, and there was no stopping it. People talked about the end of the world, but it didn’t happen the way we imagined. No, it wasn’t some natural disaster, or widespread plague, it was just a plain old regular asshole. Figures. Now Ludwig ruled like some King from the history books she used to read. It was awful and she hated it, but her mother always said “you just gotta adapt.” So that’s what she’d been doing for the past five years – adapting. Living on her own and getting by.
Her thoughts went to her mother, and the same sad, empty feeling filled her. Bridgette remembered that day well. The raids, the devastation. Running home to find it burning. Waiting until dark when the rains finally put it out. Rummaging through what was left, and finding her mother’s wedding ring; her sister’s confirmation necklace. Both of them – gone.
“Hey,” Michelle said softly, touching her hand. “You okay?”
Bridgette shook herself out of old, painful memories and smiled. “Yeah, sorry. Got lost there for a second.”
Her friend smiled knowingly, giving her hand a little pat. “I get it. So what song do you want to perform?”
“Diamonds?” she suggested.
Michelle nodded. “Let’s do her proud,” she said with a wink. They both put two fingers to their lips, kissing them and then holding them out to the beat up photograph of Marilyn Monroe taped on Michelle’s mirror. They laughed, and Bridgette left to change outfits.
Bridgette adjusted the black, lace corset as they made their way to the second level. Michelle wore a white one that matched. They stopped outside the door. Deep, male voices filtered out to them from inside. Michelle reached up to fluff her hair as Bridgette did the same. They both smiled.
“There you are!” Bridgette turned to see Donna speed walking down the hall to them. Why on earth did she look so nervous? “Let me take a look at you both,” she said, stepping back to admire them. “You both look fantastic. Make me proud.”
“Don’t we always, mama bear?” Michelle asked with her signature pout. Donna rolled her eyes, but Bridgette could tell she wanted to smile. No one was completely immune to Michelle’s puppy eyes.
“Of course,” she said quickly. She opened her mouth as if to say more, but shook her head and simply shooed them in. Bridgette looked back at her one last time before the door closed. Their eyes met and she could see the anxiety in the older woman’s face, but she just smiled reassuringly and turned to walk back down the hall. The door shut with an ominous click, and Bridgette realized the room had become awkwardly silent. She turned to her audience and instantly felt her blood chill.
Shit.
There was a long platform set up in the middle of the room with a pole in the centre. A tiny stage was connected at one end. The rest of the room was filled with small, circular tables and chairs. In each chair sat a New World army soldier, dressed in their usual getup of black cargo pants and shit kicking boots. She’d seen what those boots could to do a person’s head more times than she’d like. It wasn’t as if they never had soldiers come in before, so this wasn’t what had her frozen in her spot. No, it was who sat at the table right at the end of the platform. Her mouth went dry and her breathing became laboured.
I can’t do this, she thought frantically. She glanced at Michelle and saw her friend was as shocked and terrified as she was.
“Ladies,” Ludwig Tenebris said in greeting. He motioned for them to approach him. They moved mechanically, both stiff with apprehension. Why was the leader of the New World here? They stood before him, as awkward as a new girl would be. They needed to snap out of it, but Bridgette was having a really hard time concentrating. She could feel his eyes on her, so she looked up to meet them.
Ludwig Tenebris was an enigma. On the outside, one would never think him capable of the mass genocides he’d accomplished in his measly thirty five years. There was not a wrinkle on his face; nothing to hint of stress of any kind. He looked fresh and young…and happy. A pretty exterior with a rotten inside. It made her sick. His blonde hair was slicked back from his smooth face, his dark eyes filled with mischief. She knew some girls found him attractive, but Bridgette shuddered to think about what kind of lover he’d be. Surely his sickness ran into the bedroom as well.
He was staring at her curiously, and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. To avoid it she looked beside him. Bad idea. Bridgette had never met the man, but you didn’t need to be a genius to figure out who he was. That, and she’d seen him from a distance at some of Ludwig’s public speeches. He was always there, standing to one side as Ludwig’s Weapon X stood to the other. Roman Adamson, second in command. He also happened to be the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. His face had every line and contour a sculpture could only dream about. His eyes were a dark, dark blue that shimmered with an emotion she didn’t under
stand as they stared at one another.
“Bridgette Hatcher, correct?” Ludwig said conversationally. Bridgette’s eyes flew to his, panicked. He knew who she was. This is not good, she thought.
“Yes…my liege,” she added hastily. Bridgette tried to keep the disgust from her face.
“Any word from your father?”
Bridgette felt the temperature in the room drop. That or it was just her. Probably just her. She could sense the soldiers’ attention on her. She was also painfully aware of Roman’s scrutiny. When she glanced at him for a second, she saw his eyes sweeping back up, unhurriedly, as if he’d been pursuing her body from head to toe. She flushed, despite the cold. Bridgette quickly looked back to Ludwig before Roman’s gaze could meet hers again.
“I-I haven’t heard from him, no,” she stuttered. “I assume he is dead. Most likely in the raid that took our home.”
Ludwig looked thoughtful for a second. “Is the rest of your family dead then?”
“Yes, sir.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, my liege,” she corrected.
“You had a mother and sister, did you not?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Both are gone?”
She nodded again. Why was he asking her this? Funny how she’d just been thinking of them tonight and now they were being brought up again. A night for bad memories, it would seem.
“Such a shame,” he said. Bridgette bit the sides of her mouth so as not to speak the rude reply on her tongue. Shame my ass, she thought angrily. It was his own men who did it, and everyone knows who gives the orders.
His gaze moved to Michelle, lighting up in interest. “Aren’t you a pretty, little thing,” he commented. She heard Michelle giggle and reply sweetly, despite her fear. Bridgette was having a hard time focusing. There were events happening right now that she didn’t understand. Her being in the same room as him was no accident. She wasn’t a fool. But what it could mean, she didn’t know. Something to do with her father? She swallowed awkwardly, distantly aware of Michelle and Ludwig speaking easily to each other. Her eyes met Roman’s, who hadn’t looked away from her the entire time. They stared at each other until Bridgette couldn’t take it anymore and looked down at the floor. Whatever he was thinking, she didn’t think it was good, and she didn’t want to see it anymore.
“Are you beautiful ladies going to dance for us?” Ludwig was asking. Michelle answered happily and then Bridgette felt her pulling her to the small stage at the other side of the room.
“Snap out of it, Bridge,” Michelle whispered urgently. “Let’s get this over with and get out.”
Bridgette nodded distractedly. She blinked a few times, trying her best to ignore the heat on her back from where she knew Roman still watched. “Right,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”
CHAPTER THREE
She had the same eyes. Roman watched as Charlotte’s sister stepped onto the small stage, music now filtering through the surrounding speakers. They looked similar and yet so very different. Charlotte had long, black hair that reached her waist; her sister’s hair only hit her shoulders and was a lighter shade of brown. Where Lottey was tiny, her sister was curvy and a few inches taller. But they both had those same piercing blue eyes. Roman assumed they must have gotten them from their father, because as far as he could remember, their mother hadn’t had eyes like theirs.
Lottey was definitely more beautiful than her older sister, but Roman found Bridgette more interesting. Her nose was a little larger, the lines on her face a bit harsher, and yet still quite pretty. Then she began to sing and he was lost. She moved effortlessly on stage, performing as if she was born to. He couldn’t imagine his little Lottey ever moving in such a way. Come to think of it, he’d kill her if she ever did. No one but himself and Ludwig ever saw Charlotte without her mask, so none of the other soldiers were aware of just how beautiful she really was, and Roman liked it that way. The last thing he needed was to kill off his own men for looking at her lustfully.
He shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he watched her hips move with the music. Her ample breasts bounced in the barely concealing corset she wore, teasing the men who watched. Ludwig was silent beside him. This whole situation had come as quite a surprise to Roman. He knew Ludwig was aware of Charlotte’s sister’s location, but he had never shared it with him. When he suggested they come here, Roman hadn’t really thought anything of it. Everyone knew of the Red Lounge, so he assumed his friend and leader just wanted to relax and have fun for the night.
But as soon as his eyes met hers, he knew. And then Ludwig had asked about her father and suddenly Roman could taste the danger in the air. Thankfully he didn’t think the girl knew her father’s whereabouts. That might have just saved her life – for now at least. They sat in the dark room on the upper floors of the Red Lounge, watching the two girls sing and dance together, and he found himself completely mesmerized.
Ludwig leaned over then, voice lowered, his eyes never leaving the girls. “What do you think?”
Breathtaking, he said inwardly, knowing that wasn’t what his friend was asking for. “I think she’s telling the truth,” Roman answered. As he listened to her sing he wondered if Lottey could sing as well. He’d never heard her, but perhaps she could and he just didn’t know it.
“Hmmm,” Ludwig hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re correct. To be safe, I want her watched. If her father is alive, there’s no way he’d stay away from his only living relative.”
“As far as he knows,” Roman added.
“As far as he knows,” Ludwig said, sitting back in his chair. They watched the girls until the song ended. Their skin glistened with sweat. Roman looked at it, a variety of thoughts and ideas swimming through his brain that he tried to push away. There was no way he could have her. Not just because she was Lottey’s sister, but because she was Douglas Hatcher’s daughter. That was a whole lot of trouble he wasn’t prepared to deal with.
“Do you think she has talents like Dinah?” Ludwig leaned over again to ask.
“Oh, she has talents,” Roman murmured, “but definitely not those kinds.”
They laughed together, and Roman caught the frightened look on the girls’ faces as they waited on stage. Ludwig stood, clapping his hands slowly while Roman remained seated, his heated gaze only on Bridgette. He could care less for the other girl.
“Please,” Ludwig said with a smile. “Do another for us. I think my men and I deserve it.”
The soldiers banged their glasses encouragingly on the tops of the tables, and the two girls nodded in acquiescence. He shifted again in his seat. He was going to need a long, cold shower when he got home.
Bridgette pulled off her lashes carefully, her hands still shaking from tonight’s performance. Donna had been waiting anxiously outside the room when they were done. Never once had Bridgette felt like yelling at her boss, but tonight was an exception. Before either of them could speak, Donna was apologizing profusely. Bridgette sat at her dressing table now, wiping off the last of her make-up. Sebastian came to stand behind her. She could see his sympathetic look in the mirror.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly.
“I know you are, darling,” he said. “I would never suggest otherwise. Just wanted to see if you needed someone to escort you home.”
She gave him a bland look in the mirror. “I live a block away, Sebastian,” she pointed out.
“I know,” he smiled sheepishly. “I just know who was here tonight and thought maybe you’re a little more on edge than normal.”
He had a point. She looked around, noticing most of the girls had left for the night, and suddenly she did feel a little edgy. “On second thought, yeah I’ll take that escort. Let me just change into my jeans.”
“No problem, darling. I’ll be waiting for you out by the bar.”
Bridgette dragged her feet up the stairs to her third story apartment. She felt a little like a vampire sometimes, sleeping all day and work
ing all night. Not that she was missing much during the day, since the city was in ruins. Well, not in the upper sections, but she stood out like a sore thumb up there. She felt much more comfortable in the ghettos, even if they were broken down and dirty. Some life, she thought bitterly. Having a comfortable, loving home was a distant memory. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said her life prior to the war was nothing but a dream, a figment of her imagination. But she remembered them too clearly for it all not to have been real. Her family. If only she had been there.
No, don’t start that again, she chided herself. If she had been home she’d be dead now too. Regrets got you nowhere. She climbed the last step and stumbled down the creaky hall in fatigue, trying her best to step on all the spots she knew were quieter. Next to her apartment lived a young woman named Karen with two children, ages two and three. Their father was hardly around and she knew how tough it was on her. The last thing Bridgette needed was to wake them up at three in the morning.
She balanced her many bags awkwardly on her shoulder as she reached into her pocket to find her keys. As soon as she was inside, she decided, she was having a hot shower and sleeping for the next twelve hours straight. Not even a city bombing would be able to rouse her. Quickly entering her place, she turned to lock all four deadbolts on the door.
“Good morning!”
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