Deadly Dancing

by Nicolette Pierce

  I pulled into my driveway and slipped into my house. As I closed the door, I spotted a dark town car sitting across the street.

  Chapter 3

  I was too tired from the party to dream of Levi, but he must have drifted in there a couple of times because I woke up exhausted and frustrated. The morning sun poured into my windows, stirring me awake at ten.

  I had my Sunday routine down to a science: sleep in, go to lunch with my mom, go grocery shopping, pick up a movie, curl up on the couch and watch the movie, and then go to sleep. Even though I was tired, I didn’t see any reason for me to change this routine.

  I showered and applied the tiniest bit of makeup. Just enough to remove the dark, Levi-induced circles from my eyes and brighten my complexion.

  If I hurried, I could grab a caramel macchiato before meeting Mom. I needed the extra jolt before going rounds with her. She and I are similar in a lot of physical ways, but our ideas are completely opposite. “Get a husband before they are all gone,” she lectures me. Yeah, I’ll just pick the next guy off the street.

  Levi flashed through my mind. I couldn’t see bringing Levi home to my parents. I’d be mortally embarrassed to tell them he was a sexy exotic dancer. I could leave off the sexy part; it’s obvious. I also couldn’t see Levi being the marrying type. His career choice screamed bachelor. No strings or ties were going to snag him and get him to settle down.

  I found my way to Capital Coffee with thirty minutes to spare. I shoved my hand into the car seats and dug around to find enough change, along with a crinkled dollar bill in the cup holder, to buy my macchiato.

  I placed my order with a perky high school girl. She handed me my coffee and said, “Thank you, ma’am. Come again.”

  I hate when they call me ma’am, but I sipped my coffee and let it roll off by back. Its delightful warmth spread through me. It’s my happy juice and gets me through the day. I read somewhere that caffeine is a drug. If it’s true, then get me to rehab.

  I stared out the window to watch people come and go. Capital Coffee is located in downtown Madison, Wisconsin, and is a melting pot of young university students, old politicians, and everything in between. I love it here because, even though it’s a small city, there are so many wonderful things about it. Students can be found everywhere. Studying on blankets in the park and milling around near the university. Sparkling lakes surround the city, and hip boutique stores dot the streets.

  My eyes drifted to the far side of the street. A black town car idled there. The back window was rolled down a few inches. It looked similar to the town car I had seen at the club. I couldn’t see in, but I had the icky sensation someone was watching me.

  I peeked at my watch. It was time to meet Mom at Rosalina’s Café. Rosalina’s was only a couple of blocks away. I left my car at Capital Coffee and walked down the street. I cut across, making sure to stay far away from the town car.

  I caught a glimpse of my mom at a table on the sidewalk patio. She looked relaxed with a zinfandel in her hand. A large pink flower that matched her dress and heels was attached to an oversized black sunhat. Her dark-blonde hair was pulled back into a small bun at the nape of her neck. Sunglasses slid down her nose while she read the menu. Her thin bracelets gathered and clinked on her wrist.

  My parents have been separated since I left home. I’m not sure the reason, but I’m pretty sure they drifted apart. When I left, so did their one big reason to remain together. I believe deep down they still love each other, otherwise they’d have divorced by now. I have a childish dream that they’ll get back together.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Oh, there you are, sweetheart,” she said, motioning for me to sit down. “I’ve been trying to decide what to order, and I can’t seem to choose anything. Should I go healthy with a garden salad or be naughty and order a stuffed panini with fries?”

  “How about ordering a panini with a garden salad?”

  “I guess it’d be a good compromise, but I’ve been longing for fries.” She snapped the menu shut. “That settles it; I’ll get the panini and fries.”

  “You can be naughty and get the fries. I’ll be good and get the salad. We’ll balance each other out.”

  A stressed-out waitress took our order and hurried off.

  Mom glanced at me. “That’s your problem, you know.”

  “What’s my problem?”

  “You’re always being too safe and never enjoying life,” she said. “I’m always afraid you’ll end up marrying a stuffy tax accountant and having whiney children—or worse, ending up alone.” She paused, most likely envisioning her future whiney grandchildren. “Have you been seeing anyone?”

  We’ve arrived at the topic sooner than expected. It normally takes her two glasses of wine before she wears me down with questions about my love life . . . or lack thereof.

  “Mom, you know I’m busy,” I said. “We always have this talk and it’s always the same.”

  She looked pained, so I threw her a bone. “I did meet someone last night. He is extremely cute and has a well-paying job.”

  I looked to the sky for a lightning bolt to strike me dead. For centuries, daughters have learned to edit what they tell their mothers. I’m just following in their hallowed footsteps.

  Her blue eyes sparkled. “Oh, honey! I’m so excited.” And she was excited. Her face lit up and she smiled as if the man had proposed.

  “When can I meet him?”

  “Uh, well, he’s very busy at work, and I just met him. You’ll have to give me time.”

  “Time for what? We can’t let him get away, can we?”

  I looked down at the salad the waitress placed in front of me and stabbed an unsuspecting carrot with my fork.

  * * *

  After my narrow escape at lunch and my empty pocketbook, I skipped the supermarket and decided to go home. I had to clean the closets anyway. And for entertainment tonight there’s a free movie on the romance channel. Oh, God! My mom’s right; I am safe and boring!

  I plopped into my car and noticed a note stuck on my windshield. I leaned out, yanking it free from the wipers.

  Keep your hands off him or you’ll regret it!

  Keep my hands off who? Is this supposed to be on my car or someone else’s? Perhaps the perky coffee girl was supposed to get this.

  Who am I supposed to leave alone? Levi? I just met him, and no one would have known. It could be Evan, but I’ve never even kissed him. An image of Evan’s lips on mine flashed through my mind and sent an instant shiver through me. I shook it out of my head.

  This is stupid! I crumpled up the note, tossed it in my back seat, and drove home.

  * * *

  My house is located on a street lined with skinny houses. It looks like an unnatural force slammed a bunch of houses together and mine landed smack-dab in the middle. It’s two stories painted white with yellow trim and is almost as narrow as an alley. A living room and kitchen take up the entire first floor. The second floor holds my bedroom and a small bathroom.

  My living room window has a flower box, which I enjoy. I’m not a gardener by any means, but I do appreciate brightly colored flowers outside my window in the summer. The inside of my house is “cozy,” which is real-estate-agent lingo for microscopic. The walls were painted by the previous occupants, and I had never attempted to repaint. The color choices are a bit dubious with burnt oranges and various shades of green. I’ve done my best to color correct with the triple Ps: pictures, pillows, and plants. I’m sure it’s hideous, but I’m in denial.

  My furniture is old, bordering on decrepit. I like to think of it as “comfortable.” There’s still plenty of wear left, and it’s nicely broken in. And no matter what you’re looking for, there’s a good chance it’s stuck in the cushions somewhere.

  Kym passed through my thoughts. I cringed at the hangover she must be experiencing. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone, but when I didn’t find it, I realized I must have left it my car.

  I ran back to the car
and dug around. I found the phone under the driver’s seat next to some dust bunnies and a fossilized French fry. I turned on the phone and scrolled through my contacts for Kym. Shutting the car door, I turned back to the house and walked straight into a Jolly Green Giant-sized man with a tarantula tattoo on his neck. I gasped and my eyes shot up to his face. He didn’t look friendly like the Jolly Green Giant. He firmly took hold of my upper arm with his big meaty hands, pulling me to a black town car parked only a few feet away.

  He held me close to the back window. My stomach churned. This guy was bad news. I couldn’t see anything through the cracked window, but a low voice came from the back seat. “Where is he?”

  “Where is who?” I squeaked. Stay calm, I told myself. Whatever you do, don’t cry, faint, or mess your pants.

  I’m going to die!

  “The man you were with last night.”

  “The only man I was with last night was Levi, but I don’t know him. I had just met him at the club. You should go back there and find out where he is.”

  “I consider myself a patient man. I’ll be back soon. Tell him I want what’s mine, or I’ll take something of his.”

  “But I don’t know him,” I said.

  “You better, or I might find myself becoming impatient. A pretty girl like you would make an excellent bargaining chip,” he sneered. “If I don’t get what I want, I’ll come back for you. I know just what to do with you.”

  As the window rolled up, the tarantula goon released me with a shove. I watched as he angled into the driver’s seat and drove away. I stood there in stunned silence. What just happened?

  I had to find Levi, but the club was closed on Sundays. Did this have anything to do with the note? The note said to leave him alone, but this guy is telling me to find him.

  Now what? Should I call the cops? And tell them what? I didn’t even get the license plate number. I bolted back into the house and locked the door. I waited for my breathing to come back down to normal.

  I held out my phone and steadied my hand long enough to dial Kym’s number.

  “’ello?” Kym slurred into the phone.

  I winced at the pain in her voice. She was in no shape to help me. “Are you okay, Kym?”

  “I’m going to die!” she cried into the phone.

  “Should I let you go?”

  “No, you have to tell me about the sexy cowboy. I don’t remember the whole evening, but I do remember the way he looked at you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Liar. Did you get his name? Something happened. I can feel it.”

  “It’s probably just the hangover,” I said.

  “Fine, if you don’t want to tell me then I’m going back to bed. But just so you know, if a guy looked at me the way the cowboy looked at you, I’d snatch him up and have my way with him. Guys like him are a rare find. Use him ’til he’s ragged but still begging for more.” She half-heartedly giggled before she groaned, threw up, and then hung up.

  I grimaced at my phone after she threw up. She didn’t give me bad advice. Unfortunately, it’d happen the other way around. I’d be ragged and begging while he fled to a different bed.

  I wanted to tell someone what had happened, but who could do anything about it? I’d have to wait until tomorrow to call Longhorn’s and find Levi. He can deal with it, and if not, then I’ll go to the police.

  I shoved Levi and the scary town car guys out of my mind, turned on the TV, and cuddled into my couch with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Chocolate makes the world a better place . . . even if it did come from an ancient package from the back of my cupboard.

  Chapter 4

  Monday morning arrived too soon, and I was running in panic mode. The wedding was five days away, and I had last-minute details to iron out. Not to mention a slew of events were looming in the very near future.

  I ran into the office and plunked down at my haphazardly organized desk. Emmy breezed by, setting files on my desk.

  Emmy is the receptionist and helps with events if we need extra hands. She’s in her mid-twenties and is sweet and friendly. Her demeanor sometimes gives way to spurts of flightiness, but she is otherwise dependable and a hard worker.

  “Jocelyn wants you to start working on two new events. One is for this Friday night.”

  “What?” I asked. “I can’t work Friday. I have the wedding rehearsal dinner that night. I told her I couldn’t work Friday or Saturday.”

  “I hear you, but she’s in a mood. If you talk to her, watch out.”

  Jocelyn is always in a mood, especially on Monday mornings. I like to imagine it’s because, even with all her prowling around during the weekend, she never captures her prey.

  I worked up the courage and marched into her office.

  “Don’t you knock?” Her eyebrow arched and her puffed-up lips tightened together . . . as much as they could.

  “I need to talk to you about the Stevenson dinner on Friday. I can’t work it. I have the wedding rehearsal dinner to go to.”

  “I’m not concerned about your plans. Just get the job done,” she said.

  “I’ve already been approved for vacation on Friday and Saturday. Not to mention, Kym is a paying client.”

  Jocelyn sighed dramatically, tapping her long red fingernails on her desk. “You’re going to make a thing about this, aren’t you?”

  “You know I’d work this event if I didn’t already have plans.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll make you a deal: you take charge of organizing the event, and Curtis and Emmy can cover it.”

  “Deal,” I said and turned to the door.

  “Oh,” she said before I could escape, “I almost forgot to ask what that guy’s phone number is.”

  “Whose phone number?”

  “That sexy beast of a man from the club. I told you to get his phone number.”

  “I thought you were kidding.”

  “I never joke about men,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

  “I have to make a phone call to Longhorn’s today. I’ll see if anyone knows.”

  Jocelyn’s eyes perked. “Tell me as soon as you get off the phone.”

  “Sure.”

  I looked down at the Stevenson file in my hand. My heart contracted. Why did I agree to this?

  I sat at my desk. It won’t be too bad, I reassured myself. Just one more task on my never-ending list of things to do. I opened the file and took out the request form Emmy had the Stevensons fill out.

  Pressure dissipated as I read the form. The Stevenson dinner should be a breeze. It’s for their fiftieth wedding anniversary and looked like a meat-and-potatoes type of family get-together. Throw in some candles, music, and flowers, and you’ve got yourself a nice party. Of course, I say that now, but I’m known to try to wiggle in extra touches to make the event more memorable. It drives Jocelyn wild. “You can’t just give things away; we have bills to pay,” she’d say. Yeah, bills for her Botox and plastic surgery.

  I handed the file off to Curtis with a scribbled list of arrangements. He could start working on the arrangements while I concentrated on the wedding. He was used to deciphering my notes.

  “What is this?” He held my list between his fingers as if it could turn into a poisonous snake at any moment.

  “It’s for the Stevenson party on Friday night.”

  “Friday night? When did this come in?”

  “I don’t know. Emmy just gave me the file.”

  I returned to my desk to call Longhorn’s. I had to reach Levi. He was going to get involved in this mess whether he wanted to or not.

  I flipped through my business cards until I found the club’s number. I dialed and heard a woman’s voice on the other end.

  “Longhorn’s,” she said.

  “Hi, I’m trying to locate one of your dancers. I was hoping you could help me.”

  “Honey, it was just one night. Move on. I’m sure you’ve had a one-night stand before, and if
not, hey, it’s a new experience with a hot guy. You aren’t pregnant are you?” she asked with a monotone voice that’s heard it all before.

  Oh, my!

  “No, it’s not like that.” I said. “My name is Mars Cannon. I’m the events coordinator that had the bachelorette party Saturday night. I’m looking for Levi Mann. I have a message from . . . well, I’m not sure who it’s from. But they are searching for him, and I’m somehow stuck in the middle.”

  “Oh, Mars, it’s Annie. I didn’t mean to lecture you on one-night stands,” she said. “We get all sorts of calls from women who believe they found the perfect someone only to find out he’s just another jerk. The guys are all jerks here. They think they’re God’s gift to women just because they’re good-looking. I don’t know what women think when they come here. It’s not like we’re a match-making business. We’re more like a fool’s paradise.”

  “I understand. It’s just that I seem to find myself in a situation, and I need Levi to straighten it out.”

  “I’m not sure who Levi is. Can you describe him?”

  “He was dressed as a cowboy. He helped me take down the decorations after.”

  “Oh, that’s Nick Heat. He’s always switching his stage name. He’s such a looker that the ladies like to harass him during his off time.”

  Levi Mann and Nick Heat? I’m such a sucker. I really believed his name was Levi. He must think I’m the dumbest sap there is.

  “Can you give me his phone number?”

  “Sorry, hon, I can’t because it’s against company policy. How about if you give me your number, and I’ll call him with your message?”

  “Okay, that‘s fine. Just out of curiosity, how long has Levi . . . er, Nick worked for you?” I asked.

  “He started with us a few months back.” She gave a low, throaty laugh. “I remember his first day on the job. He was white as a sheet when he came from behind the curtain and out onto the catwalk. By his second number, he was getting the most tips.”