The Unforgettable Queen of Diamonds

by Nellie K Neves

  Roman’s arms capture me. I sink into his embrace. Behind me Pedro yells, “What’s wrong with her? She’s gonna sing, right?”

  “If your goon hadn’t attacked us the second we set foot in this place, maybe she’d be doing better.”

  “It was security.”

  “He was feeling her up!” Roman’s body tightens as if he might launch from the stage and take his revenge, but my weak body leaves him anchored. Weaving his fingers into my hair, he keeps me close. “Do you have somewhere she can warm up in private?”

  I wait, hopeful, listening for a verdict that could give me enough time to find my feet again and shake off the stain of what happened. For whatever reason, Pedro is hesitating.

  “Down the hall off stage. First door. Don’t go any further, or she may never sing again.”

  I swallow the bile that erupts in my throat. I’m ready to quit. Something is wrong, incredibly wrong with this place. But Roman scoops me into his arms and carries me off stage.

  The light dims as we enter the hallway. I nestle close to his neck, hiding my face, breathing in his scent. Five seconds pass before his shoe collides with a door and kicks it open. I pray it’s the right one, and I’m not going to get shot. An overhead light flickers a couple times before it finds power. Roman sets my feet to the ground, but stays close, watching my face for any indication of my emotional status.

  “I can’t do this. You were right. This is way more cutthroat than I ever thought it would be.” My whisper is still loud in the silence of the tiny supply closet.

  Roman’s mouth tightens as if he might say something, but he remains silent. None of this freaks him out. This is normal? He’s used to this?

  “Is this how it is? Is this what becoming a performer will be like?” I stare up at him, but Roman won’t hold my gaze.

  “This is extreme,” he says. “Just like the rest of the world, you’ll have good guys, and bad guys.”

  “And you knew these were bad guys? You knew I’d be treated like this?”

  “No,” he’s quick to find my eyes, even faster to shut down the thought, “I never would have allowed this to happen if I thought they’d…” He can’t finish. “I hated that, every second of it. I want to bash his face in.”

  His confession earns him a weak smile. “I’m sure it’s standard security.”

  “Like you can hide anything under that dress. I’ve been staring at you all night, no way could you fit any—” Again he cuts himself off. “I’m just saying it’s tight… or… that is… it fits well.”

  His awkward shifting and frustration have me lightening by the second. For being cool, calm and collected around the rest of this place, it sure seems like I unravel him in an instant.

  “I’m saying, I care about you, Kennedy. I hated not being able to protect you.”

  “Me too.”

  I wish he understood what he’s come to mean to me. I feel inadequate in explaining this bond between us. All I know is, I trust him, with my love, and if he’ll take it, with my heart.

  “I want to go home, Roman. Please take me home.”

  A war rises up in his features. Eyes narrow, brow furrows, his lips part with arguments and words unspoken.

  “You need to stay.” The words don’t sound like his, as if he’s rehearsing a line. “You need to finish this. You can do it. I know you can.”

  “I don’t need the money. And if this is how the work will be, I don’t need the job either.”

  Roman swallows hard. A tremble in his hand vibrates against my shoulder where he takes hold. “Please, do it for me. Sing for me.”

  I don’t understand the desperation written on his face. It’s a birthday party. It’s not the end of the world if I walk away, but he’s begging me to see this through.

  “I don’t belong here. This isn’t who I am, Rome.”

  The musty air makes me nauseous. A knock at the door tells me my time has run out. But Roman captures my attention.

  “You belong up there, Kennedy. Not a choir girl, not a backup singer. Front and center, star of the show. I meant it, you’re the diamond. Show them.” My heart jams into my throat because he doesn’t understand, in my family I’ve never been the star. “Do one song, for me, if you can’t stay any longer, I’ll break down every door to get you out of here.”

  The second knock is no longer a knock, but a slamming fist. I cringe with every bang, but Roman pulls me close and whispers against my ear. “You can do this. I believe in you.”

  I draw in a breath, air mingled with the closet odors, but also Roman’s cologne, my favorite scent, the one I always try to make Hudson wear. The sunflowers, the date to my favorite restaurant, the cologne, never has a man been this perfect for me.

  If he believes in me, then I’ll try.

  Chapter 18

  Roman

  I prop up the top of the grand piano, as if I’m hoping for a bit more volume. Really, I’m looking for the gun Rick swore would be inside. It’s hard to spot, and for a good reason, but there on the far left wedged beneath part of the piano’s structural housing, I see it. Hoping to maintain my cover, I leave the top cracked.

  Thus far, no one has recognized me. That forgettable face of mine strikes again. At least this time it’s keeping Kennedy safe. That’s all I can hope at this point, to keep her alive. I don’t know if I’ll ever pull myself out from under the guilt of talking her into staying so the mission will stay alive.

  It’s not fair.

  It’s not right.

  She’s behind the microphone, just outside the spotlight, as if she’s not worthy to take that space. Kennedy looks over her shoulder for my reassurance.

  I almost said it.

  In that room, I almost whispered, “I love you”.

  And I don’t think it’d be a lie.

  I search the crowd for the man who calls himself Dark Fox. It’s stupid to try. No has ever seen him. I wouldn’t know him even if I stared him in the face. At least thirty, maybe more, people stare back at us, waiting, expecting something spectacular because I’m sure that’s what they were promised.

  I set my fingers to the ivory. Kennedy’s nerves have a grip on her throat, but I play the first chord. Her eyes close. She steps into the spotlight and takes hold of the microphone. I play the second chord and her voice, her angelic, velveteen voice, curls around every heart in The Nightingale.

  The first phrase of, Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You, floats through the spell she’s cast. How I wish she understood that she’s singing exactly what’s in my heart. She is too good to be true. Not once have I been able to take my eyes off of her. Those moments in her arms are pure heaven when she’s touching me.

  She’s a vision up there, so much that I’m afraid I might drop a note, miss a key change, something, because she’s got me hypnotized. Kennedy hangs on the notes and spreads the melody like honey.

  The volume builds and with it her confidence. Kennedy’s smile spreads over her cheeks, coming alive with her love of the music. I try to keep up, to balance her star quality with the music, but no way can I do talent like hers any justice. She opens her voice as she rounds the last set on the chorus. Whistles and clapping start early, egging on her performance. She’s forgotten everything from before, only alive for this moment, this chance, and I love watching her take hold of her dreams and run with them. She belts out the last notes, stretching an arm over head as the notes climb and die out.

  The lights cut to blackness. My heart leaps into my throat, but before I can retrieve my gun, the spotlight flashes back on. The crowd explodes to their feet. She turns, blows me a kiss and nods her head that she wants to go on.

  “We heard the song,” Rick’s voice chirps from the com in my ear, “still working on the drop box. Here’s hoping they want an encore.”

  Once more guilt grabs me by the lapels and tells me I don’t deserve her. Not with the lies I’m feeding her. Not when I always come up short. But deserve her or not, I plan to give her my all.

 
✽✽✽

  Kennedy

  I expected applause, but this is almost deafening. Each song it got louder, and after three encores, I have nothing left. I blow kisses to the crowd and say, “Well maybe now you can join me in a song. We’re all here for one reason, to wish Dante an incredibly happy birthday.”

  I start the song, but I let the crowd carry it. Too much more and I’ll be hoarse. I’m not used to this level of strain on my vocal cords. After the song and the fifth round of applause, I thank them, and turn to return to Roman’s side. Pedro hops on stage, catching my arm in a vice grip.

  “Dante wants to thank you personally. Please join him for cake.”

  Despite the word please, it doesn’t sound like a request.

  “I’m flattered, honestly I am, but I’m exhausted and sweaty. Let me get cleaned up and fetch a drink of water.”

  Pedro doesn’t flinch. “We have water at the table.”

  “Let me grab Roman,” I start to move, but Pedro’s grip locks me in place.

  “The invitation has been extended to only you, Kennedy.”

  The grand piano top smacks down. When I turn, Roman is tucking his shirt in at the back. I widen my eyes, hoping he’ll rescue me.

  “It’s okay,” he says, smiling. “I left something back in the supply closet. You tell the birthday boy hello, I’ll grab our stuff, and we’ll head out, okay?”

  Oxygen rushes from my body but won’t return.

  He’s leaving me with these men?

  “I’ll be right back, okay?”

  There has to be a secret message in the look he’s shooting me, but I have no clue what it is. Instead, Pedro leads me down the stairs by the hand, ushering me toward the birthday cake that’s being wheeled to the center where Dante Alvero spreads his arms across the back of a booth filled with people. I look back, but Roman is already gone.

  The closer I come to the table, the more I feel like I might puke. Dante, the birthday boy, is nowhere near a boy. He’s got to be at least fifty, pushing sixty, with no indication of age on the cake. Clearly, he’s not looking for a reminder. He extends a hand to me as if to shake mine. I grant him that social norm, but he twists my hand sharply and sets it to his lips.

  “The only thing more beautiful than your face is your voice, my darling.”

  Seated in the booth, on either side of him, two women watch me. Each has a hand on his chest, touching skin where his silk shirt has popped open and a dark patch of hair looks more like shag carpet. I pinch my lips together to keep from frowning.

  “Thank you for having me. I appreciate the opportunity.”

  I try to peel my hand from his grasp, but he’s a python, drawing me closer with the pressure from his grip on my fingers.

  “The pleasure is all mine. Come, sit, eat with us. We’d love to have you.”

  Looking at the other women on his arm, I have no interest in joining them. I don’t even like cake.

  “I’d hate to intrude,” I say. One of his girls gathers his attention and in that split second, I rip my hand free. The inertia makes me stumble back, landing square in Pedro’s arms. He smooths my dress as he rights me to standing, but I fear even a hot shower will never cleanse me of this night.

  Where did Roman go?

  “Why have we never heard you sing before? I know I’d remember your voice.”

  “I’m here all the time, but not to sing.”

  Pedro steps in to spell it out for him. “Kennedy works at Cartwright Ranch, she’s the talent scout for their events.”

  I smile with gratitude. “Yes, we have our summer concert series coming up shortly. Should be an amazing line up.”

  None of that interests him. “Then you’re Ace Cartwright’s daughter.”

  It’s not a question, but I feel the need to answer it.

  “Yes, I am. Do you know him?”

  “Everyone knows Ace.” Dante waves my question away like a gnat. “We have a long history together, however, lately he refuses to work with me. It’s been very disappointing. I wager you didn’t mention where, or who you were singing for tonight.”

  “Well, no, it never came up, but I don’t think you should worry, dad works with all sorts of—”

  “Are you here with someone?” Dante asks, trying to draw my scattered attention back again.

  “Roman.” I toss his name out as if I’m looking for him to pop up.

  “Who?”

  “The piano player,” Pedro says. “They came together.”

  Dante’s laughter drips with animosity. “He’s a bit old for you isn’t he, Darling?”

  I really wish he’d stop calling me that. I don’t answer and Dante’s eyes narrow. “If I’d known you were interested in older men, I would have thrown my hat in the ring. I could show you what a real man is capable of.”

  Bile churns in my stomach as anxiety turns to fear. I’m in a den of vipers, surrounded by hungry men with insatiable appetites, and my only hero is gone.

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  “Come on,” I say to the computer again. The files aren’t downloading like I want them to. Every second I leave her alone is another second Alvero might hurt her. She’s a bunny in a pit of foxes, and I’m the only one on her side.

  “Hit a snag with the drop box,” Rick’s voice comes over my coms. “Can’t get through the last layer of cement. Wrong drill. Bring your girl over here. I’ll organize a dead drop.”

  The file pops up finished. I jerk the flash drive free. Footfalls in the hallways draw my attention. I’m closing the computer when I notice an icon in the corner.

  The silhouette of a black fox.

  I sink back into the office chair, jam my flash drive back in and try to copy the file. An error warning pops up on the screen.

  Insufficient memory.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  The steps move closer, a countdown edging its way toward me. I jam my hand into my pocket and pull out the mess of my keys. I slip my personal flash drive into the slot. The floor in the hall groans. I click through, copying the file. The blue bar slides across as the files copy to my flash drive. A second later, the fox icon vanishes. I realize my mistake. In my rush, I must have pressed ‘cut’ instead.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Backlit by the hallway, the guard who got handsy with my girl fills the breadth of the doorway. He reaches for his gun, but mine is level before he pulls the trigger. A dart catches his neck a second later, and another in his chest. Tranquilizer guns work best when dealing with a room full of criminals only thirty feet away.

  The behemoth stumbles back, plucking the dart from his neck to stare at in horror as he slides to the ground. Both flash drives in my pocket, I retrieve the darts, hoping to cover any sign of a government agency, and leave him with a bottle of cognac from the bottom desk drawer. Let his boss think he blacked out drunk.

  Turning the corner, I search the crowd for Kennedy. She’s there, terrified, tucked under Dante Alvero’s arm. I shove the guy to my right in order to make room on my way toward her. A few cries go up, but as always with Kennedy, I have tunnel vision.

  “Roman!” Her excitement to see me speaks more of the trauma I’ve left her in, not her feelings toward me. I’m sure I’m in the doghouse for abandoning her to the wolves.

  “Ah, is this the Roman you were speaking of?” Dante says as I draw closer and extend my hand to Kennedy.

  “Yeah, sorry we have to cut out. Miss Cartwright has another event. We can’t be late.”

  Dante’s eyes narrow, but not because of the lie. His next question chills my blood.

  “Have we met? You’re very familiar.” He stretches his arm across Kennedy, working as a seatbelt to block her into the booth with him.

  Kennedy jumps to my defense. “Roman works in the music business with Dale over at Santos Sound. I’m sure you’ve seen him around.”

  Dante won’t look away. I will myself to look like anything but a health inspector.

  “I’m
sorry,” Kennedy taps his arm like an impatient executive waiting on an elevator. “I really must be going. I hope you have a lovely party. It’s been a blast.”

  Twelve seconds pass before he releases his arm. Kennedy grabs my hand, lacing our fingers for extra support. Without another word, she drags me to the door, eager to put distance between herself and Dante Alvero. I pull back the door. She drops my hand and runs into the night. I follow on her heel, cold air slapping my face as if Kennedy has asked it for a favor.

  “Kennedy! Wait!”

  She whirls, sparkling dress catching the light of the streetlamps. Her eyes flash with anger and tears, but mostly betrayal.

  “Why did you leave me?” Every one of her syllables cut like a blade. “Why would you desert me to them?”

  There aren’t words to explain my behavior, not without the truth. Even then, it’s hardly excusable.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long.” The flash drive burns from my pocket, screaming for attention because Alvero has to be putting together what’s happened here. “Let me buy you dinner, make it up to you.”

  “No, take me home now, Rome.”

  Rick’s voice catches my ear. “We need that flash drive, Palermo.”

  I make one last attempt. “You’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t have left you alone. Remember the breadsticks? I’ll take you to ice cream after too. I’m really sorry.”

  Kennedy’s shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m getting like eight scoops. I don’t want to hear a word about it.”

  I raise my hands as if she’s arresting me. “Not a single word.”

  She starts her walk back to my side. “And I’m not sharing.”

  “Not even a little?”

  Kennedy doesn’t stop once she reaches me. Instead, she pulls the door to the pizza place and inhales the smell of Italian cuisine.

  “Not even a spoonful.”