“If you ask me again about the wedding date, I will drown you in this pot of sauce.” Darcy shot her warning look.
“Actually, I had a funny story to tell.” Remi sipped her water, which Annie had thoughtfully poured into a wineglass so she could pretend it was alcoholic. “So, Wes has been having some issues with securing an investor for the show because of the Bad Bachelors reviews.”
“Right.” Darcy pottered around the kitchen.
“We had one guy pull out last minute, and now he’s finally got someone else to give us a chance, although it’s not a done deal as yet.” She tried not to think about that scary thing hanging over her head. “But in the meantime, he was doing a bit of research on the app and decided that he wanted to talk to someone who had a similar experience.”
Darcy stilled in front of the stove. “And?”
“He met with Reed.” Remi shook her head. “Strange coincidence, right?”
The apartment went quiet, and Remi could almost hear her own pulse. For some reason, her intuition tingled. She’d expected Darcy to find it funny or, at the very least, have a huh, isn’t that weird? kind of moment. But her friend was rigid as a statue. Even Annie looked at her strangely.
Remi frowned. “What?”
“What did Reed say?” Darcy asked. She turned the burner down on the stove and came over to the island, her expression strained.
What the hell is going on?
“He said he couldn’t help Wes other than to give him some general PR advice.” Then she remembered that cryptic line. “He said the cost of doing something about Bad Bachelors was more than he was willing to pay.”
Darcy’s face paled, and her eyes flicked to Annie.
“Do you know what he meant?” Remi asked, her gaze swinging between her two friends. Annie remained impassive, but Darcy looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Are you hiding something from me?”
Silence. It was so intense the lack of sound seemed to vibrate in Remi’s ears. Her friends were never quiet. Not like this.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Remi threw her hands in the air. “Did you have something to do with Bad Bachelors?”
Darcy swallowed. “I didn’t.”
“Then what ‘cost’ was so great that Reed didn’t pursue them? The damn website nearly ruined his career.” She shook her head.
“So you think the site is appalling but you’re still using it?” Annie asked.
“I stopped as soon as I realized how much trouble it was causing. I deleted it off my phone.” She swallowed. The uneasy feeling in her stomach grew, blowing up like a bubble and pressing on her heart and lungs. She did not like where this conversation was going. “That stuff is private. Hell, it’s defamation in some cases.”
“Well, technically it would be libel because it’s in written form,” Darcy said.
“Okay, fine. Whatever.” Why did she get the impression that she was being lied to right now? “Can you please look me in the face and tell me that you don’t know what Reed was talking about?”
They’d been friends for four years, lived together for most of that time. Remi knew when Darcy was holding back, and as they’d become closer, that had happened less and less. Remi had worked hard to gain her friend’s trust and to be the person who could give it to her straight but also be there with the pint of ice cream and a shoulder to cry on when it was needed.
Darcy’s eyes met hers. “I can’t tell you that.”
“So you do know?”
Silence.
“Why didn’t you say anything when I told you it was causing problems for Wes’s production? That it could cause problems for this one chance I have to get my career back?”
Guilt flashed across Darcy’s face like a streak of lightning. “Annie, I’m not doing this anymore. Either you fess up, or I will.”
Remi snapped her head in Annie’s direction and her friend didn’t react. As always, she maintained her composure, even in the face of Remi’s shocked expression.
“I created Bad Bachelors,” she said eventually. “It’s my site, my app.”
Remi’s mind spun like a hamster was using her brain as a running wheel. Annie was behind Bad Bachelors. Which meant Annie was the person Reed had been tracking down while he and Darcy worked together.
“So he wouldn’t expose Annie because of you?” Remi turned to Darcy. “You were the cost he didn’t want to pay?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’ve known about this for months and you both kept it from me?” It was like she’d swallowed a stone. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”
These women were the closest thing she had to family in New York. God, in the entire hemisphere. There had been countless times when they’d called on each other for advice, when they’d cried and laughed together. They were like sisters. Like blood.
“Don’t blame Darcy,” Annie said, a guilty tone weighing down her words. “It’s my fault. When Reed found me out, he made me promise to tell her or else he would do it. It’s the only reason I told her. I didn’t want anyone to know what I was doing. But he gave me no choice—I had to tell her, but I asked her to keep my secret.”
“Including from me?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“You both lied to me.” It felt like the bottom had fallen out from under her. “For months.”
“I’m sorry.” Darcy wrapped her arms around herself. That’s how she often dealt with her problems—she turned inward, like an armadillo. Annie was the strong, silent type. And Remi…well, she was their opposite.
“Congratulations. I feel really stupid.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “And all those times we laughed over the reviews and when I told you about Wes, when I told you what was happening with the show…”
Was she an idiot? Had they been dropping hints that she couldn’t see because she was stuck in her own damn head? Or had they worked hard to keep her out of the loop?
Three’s a crowd.
Wasn’t that what Ariana had said to her back home? She hadn’t wanted to be the third wheel with Remi and Alex, so she’d eliminated the competition. And Alex had chosen the other side, like Darcy had done now. Sure, Annie might have begged her to stay quiet, but Darcy was responsible for her own actions.
Looks like Remi was on the outside. Again.
The sauce hissed on the stove and bubbled over the side of the pot. Darcy swore and ran to it, trying to save it from burning. But it splattered all over the sleek, black stovetop.
“You could have trusted me, Annie.” Remi bit her lip, determined not to make herself look like even more of a blubbering fool.
“I swear it wasn’t personal. I didn’t want anyone to know.” Annie rubbed her hands over her face. “If people found out it was me…”
“What, you might lose your job?” Remi couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Seems like you’re not too worried about it when it’s other people in the firing line.”
“It’d be more than that,” she said solemnly. “People would come after me. The Bad Bachelors email gets death threats on a daily basis now. And emails from people who say I should kill myself for what I’m doing.”
Remi blanched. “Really?”
“I’ve upset a lot of people.” The way she said it was so matter-of-fact. The tone was the same one she used to tell them that she’d picked up milk on the way home from the office.
But that was Annie. It was how she coped with life’s pressures, by hanging on to control at all times.
Maybe you need to be a bit more like that instead of always letting the nasty, little voices get the better of you.
“And you still think this site should exist, even if good people are having their most private moments splashed all over the internet?” Remi shook her head. “I know we all laughed at first. And I’ll admit it: I use
d the site. But there’s a dark underbelly to this.”
“Trust me, I’ve thought long and hard about this. But yes, I do think it should exist. Along with the death threats, I also get emails from women who’ve finally regained the confidence to date again because of Bad Bachelors.” There was a passion in Annie’s eyes, like a spark of electricity. “I get emails from women who tell me they’ve been attacked on dates, who’ve been drugged and taken advantage of, and they tell me they wish something like this had existed sooner so they could have protected themselves.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because the more people who know I’m behind it, the more likely it is that someone will slip up and pass that information on.”
“So if you had to start over, you’d lie to me again.” Remi’s voice wobbled.
Annie looked to the ground and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I would.”
“Guys, can we take it down a notch?” Darcy pleaded with them. “Let’s take a breath and think about what we’re saying.”
“No.” Remi shook her head. “I understand you’re passionate about this, Annie, but I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t trust me.”
“Remi, stop.” Darcy came around to the other side of the island, but Remi had already pushed off her stool and was gathering her things.
“No. I won’t.” She slipped her bag over her shoulder and went to fetch her shoes and coat. “You chose sides too, Darcy.”
“It wasn’t my secret to tell.” Her eyebrows knitted above her pert nose.
“I get it.” Remi slipped her coat on and buttoned the front as best she could with shaking fingers. “You two have known each other since you were kids.”
Darcy closed her eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It’s my fault,” Annie said, frowning and wringing her hands. “I put her in that position because I was worried about what might happen if it got out.”
On some level, she understood Annie’s fears. And knowing the kind of nasty emails she’d received made Remi feel sick. Nobody should have their life threatened. But they’d talked about the site countless times over the last few months. Annie had even shared reviews with her, all the while making out like she was just another woman using the site.
But she wasn’t. Annie reached out for her but Remi shook her head.
“I need to cool down,” she said. “If I stay, I’m going to end up saying something I regret.”
It was times like this she wished her parents were here. She pushed out of Darcy’s apartment and took the elevator down to the main floor, checking her phone as she went. It was still early in Australia. Too early to call.
The tears that had been pricking her eyes threatened again as she stepped out into the afternoon air. The sky was thick with gray clouds, rain sputtering as though it wasn’t sure whether it wanted to pour down or not. The day mirrored her—miserable, indecisive.
She needed to shake off Annie’s revelation for the time being and give herself a chance to mull things over. To decide what she wanted to do with that information.
Because now she had to pick a side—protect the friend who’d lied to her or hand the information over to Wes knowing he’d use it to save their show and, in the process, bring Annie down.
* * *
Wes walked through the lobby of the Attic theater, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. Today was the first day they had access to the place where Out of Bounds would be showcased. He’d met with the theater’s event coordinator yesterday afternoon to finalize the paperwork. The money came out of his personal account, since the production had already used all of his business funds. Hopefully that would be filled back up this week, once they convinced Bert Soole to support them.
But money wasn’t the main thing on Wes’s mind. He’d been thinking about Remi ever since Friday night. Like he’d conjured her into existence, she walked through the theater’s main doors into the foyer.
Black leggings made her legs look even longer and leaner, which sent his mind back to the night of the charity ball and how he’d tried so damned hard to ignore the flash of smooth, creamy thigh revealed by the slit of her dress. If he’d had any hopes that seeing her all bundled up, a denim jacket over the top of a chunky sweater and her cheeks pink from the crisp air, might make her less appealing, then he was wrong. Dead wrong.
You know why she doesn’t want to take this further. Thank God one of you has their priorities straight.
“Ready to let all your frustrations out?” he asked.
She made a worried hmm sound. “What on earth do you have planned for me?”
“A little tension reliever.” He chuckled when she shot him a warning look. “Don’t worry, it’s all aboveboard. You have my word.”
He led them into the theater, and she followed him up onto the stage. It was eerily quiet without the hustle and bustle of the rest of the crew and his production team. Usually he was being pulled in every direction at once, and he loved it. Back at the Evans Ballet School, every day was like the one before it, a perpetual Groundhog Day of white walls and an inbox that made his eyes glaze over. No one demanded anything real of him, and his work never made an impact. He was a figurehead, no better than a hood ornament on a fancy car, without the ability to influence how the business was run—or how they could change and grow, because his parents didn’t believe those words had positive connotations.
But here, in the thick of Out of Bounds, he was excited. Alive.
“Right.” He clapped his hands together and the sound echoed through the theater like a gunshot. “We’re going to help you deal with this stage fright once and for all.”
“I don’t have stage fright,” Remi said. “I haven’t performed yet, so how can it be stage fright?”
“I actually think you’ll be fine performing in front of a regular audience,” he said. “It’s your peers who’re the problem. Let’s call it professional stage fright, for lack of a better term.”
“Professional stage fright?” She raised a brow. “Tell me, Doc, how did you diagnose that?”
“I know you’re a brilliant dancer. I saw it with my own eyes.” He stepped closer to her and tapped the center of her chest. “This part is working just fine. But this”—he brushed the side of her temple with his thumb, her nostrils flaring at the gentle touch—“is letting you down.”
“All my problems are in my head. Gee, why didn’t I think of that on my own?” She rolled her eyes.
“Be as sarcastic as you want.” He grinned, which only seemed to irritate her further. “You know I’m right. The second you started working with the cast, all your confidence evaporated. And then you tell me a story about how you were shunned by your peers at your last company. You’re steering clear of me because you don’t want a repeat of the past, yet you’re allowing the past to be right here with you. It’s weighing you down. Killing your dancing mojo.”
“Ugh, you sound like my parents. Is this the part where you tell me I need to eat more kale and sleep with a dream catcher over my bed?”
She was in full-defensive mode. Her eyes looked anywhere but him, and her little scoffing laugh was all bluster. But this woman wore her heart on her sleeve, whether she wanted to or not. And Wes cataloged her tells, memorizing every single one.
“I don’t know why you distrust me so much, Remi.”
She reached behind her head and fiddled with the elastic holding her ponytail in place. Stalling. “You intimidate me.”
He blinked. At least she was being honest with him now. That had to be a step in the right direction even if it wasn’t the step he’d expected.
“Why?”
She finally made eye contact, spearing him with her luminous brown gaze. “Because you’re it in this town. You come from dance royalty, you’ve got this hot new show, and from everything I’ve read about you online, y
ou’re some kind of super-hung sex god, and it’s…a lot. You’re practically perfect, and it kind of scares the hell out of me.”
Family connections. Opportunity. His body. Why did it always come down to those three things?
“A practically perfect, super-hung sex god.” He shook his head. “That’s quite a pedestal.”
“To be fair, you were on it before we met.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if she wanted the chunky sweater to swallow her whole. “I didn’t put you there.”
“You’re not intimidated by me; you’re intimidated by my reputation. You were perfectly fine flirting your ass off during that barre class,” he pointed out.
“Let’s call that blissful ignorance,” she said. “I would have preferred not to know the nitty-gritty about your uh…” Her eyes dipped down for a minute, and her face turned tomato red. “Finer points.”
“My finer points?” He couldn’t resist smirking. “Care to elaborate?”
“Nope. Now, can we get on with whatever little experiment you want to conduct, so we can both get back to our respective weekends? I’d rather forget that I even opened this can of worms.”
“Fine.” He motioned for her to follow him to the edge of the stage. “Now I know you’re going to think this is some hippie bullshit, but I’ve seen a lot of dancers let their heads get the best of them over the years. That’s not going to happen with you. But I need you to go with what I’m asking, okay?”
“I’m not usually in the habit of saying yes before I know what I’m being asked.” She smirked. “If you want me to cluck like a chicken, it ain’t gonna happen.”
“I want you to teach me your opening sequence.”
She frowned. “What?”
“We’re going to pretend you’re the choreographer, and I’m the dancer. You’re going to teach me your part of the opening sequence, and I’m going to dance it.” He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it down onto the front row of seats. Then he toed off his shoes and socks. “It’s a little role play. A power switch.”
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