Sex Idol

by Shelley Munro

  “They threatened to amputate my leg if I didn’t cooperate,” Bridget blurted. “They meant it. They’ve done it to others. I know, because they made me watch.” She shuddered, a sick, hopeless expression on her face. “When they catch me this time, I’m dead.”

  “How did you become involved with them?” Sasha asked.

  Bridget wrapped her arms around herself and made a hiccupping sound. “I met Fabio De Santis at a party. We seemed to click, and he asked me out on a date. I didn’t know it at the time but they’d targeted me, thinking I’d be a useful asset to their organization. I fell for the flattery.”

  “How long has this been going on?” Antonio asked, their past failures during competitions suddenly making sense. The senseless improvisation that lost them points, the farting onstage. Fuck, if he’d had that threat hanging over him…

  “Since the start of the last season.”

  “Do they know you’re here?” Antonio asked, a plan forming.

  “Fabio dropped me off. They expect me to go onstage and lose the competition for you. If I don’t they will take action.” Acute fear shimmered in her blue eyes. “They’ll kill me eventually.” Her matter-of-fact words brought another flow of tears.

  “I have a friend who will be able to help you.”

  “It’s too late for that.” Bridget stroked her leg and shuddered as if she’d imagined it not being there.

  “Don’t give up yet.” Antonio stalked across the room to his bag. He pulled out a communicator and turned his back on the two women while he spoke to his friend. Ten minutes later, he finished the call. “It’s sorted. Massey will collect you and take you to a safe house. He—shit, what the hell did they do to you?”

  Sasha had helped her out of her clothes. Small burns the size of a smoker-pipe barrel covered the pale skin of her belly. There was an ugly mark on one buttock and a mass of purple and yellow bruises covered her ribs.

  When he stepped closer, he saw the lesion was a brand—the De Santis crest. Antonio’s mouth tightened as he met Sasha’s worried gaze. The bastards had branded her so that everyone knew they owned her. To them, Bridget was a commodity.

  Antonio reached for her, intending to offer sympathy with his touch. Bridget flinched when he raised his hand. He let it drop back to his side. “Massey will help you.”

  “Do you trust him?” Sasha asked. Both of them knew there were dirty law officers in the city. The De Santis possessed a long reach.

  “Yeah. Massey and I have known each other since we were kids. I trust him.” He glanced at Bridget. She stood in the middle of the room, naked and shivering. Her glorious red hair was matted and lank, and she’d lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose. “Bridget?”

  Bridget gave a choked, desperate laugh. “They’ll kill me. I have nothing to lose.”

  “Massey said he’d be here as soon as he could.” Antonio took Bridget’s hand, commanding her attention. “Look, sweetheart. Massey said the cops intend to arrest Giovanni and Fabio on racketeering. Probably other charges too. They have evidence, but no witnesses to testify. With your help, they can put them out of commission. For good. You’ll be stashed in a safe place until they can bring the De Santis to trial.”

  “Make sure you and Sasha don’t miss your routine slot.” There was a hint of her former determination and attitude. “I want to go knowing you’ve beaten their asses.”

  “Lie down while we’re waiting for Antonio’s friend.” Sasha cast him a worried glance as she helped Bridget to the warm-up couch. “I’ll wait with Bridget. Why don’t you check-in, organize our music so everything is ready and all we need to do is step out onto the stage.”

  “But don’t you need to warm-up?” Bridget coughed, and she yelped, her hands holding her ribs. Pleading shone in her eyes. “Warm-up. Don’t let the De Santis family win.”

  “We’ll warm up here until Massey arrives.” Antonio signaled to Sasha with his eyes.

  Bridget attempted to roll to her feet but collapsed with a groan, tears running down her forlorn face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I thought they’d be satisfied if I threw a few contests. They kept demanding more. I tried to hide, but they found me within days.” Bridget shuddered, her hunched posture one of defeat. “If I run again, they’ll find me. I know they will.”

  Antonio gave up any pretense of warming up. “They won’t find you. Massey will stay with you in the safe house until a replacement arrives. The De Santis family won’t get past Massey.”

  A knock on the cubicle door put them on edge. “Ten minutes until you’re onstage.”

  Bridget made a choked sound of terror deep in her throat. “God, I thought it was them. I can’t lose my leg. I just can’t.” She sobbed pitifully. “The brand was bad enough. They called the family and their employees together to watch. I remember the smell of the branding iron heating in the open fire, how cold I felt, how exposed when they stripped off my clothes. Giovanni, the head of the family, made a speech about loyalty. Fabio took the hot iron from the fire and…and…” She sobbed, her hands pressing hard to her eyes.

  Sasha wrapped a robe around Bridget’s shaking shoulders and sat on the warm-up couch beside her. Antonio paced a tight circle, wishing Massey would hurry.

  His communicator rang, and they all jumped. Antonio grimaced and answered. “Yeah? Massey. Yeah, I’ll meet you at the security gate.” He grabbed a robe and glanced at Sasha. “Lock the door after I leave and let no one but me back inside. Help Bridget dress so she’s ready to go.”

  Antonio hurried from the room, pausing until he heard the snick of a lock. Pushing his way past the trainers and nervous competitors loitering in the hall, he made his way to the security checkpoint. A tall, shaggy-haired man wearing a black trench coat stood by the guard. He almost didn’t recognize his friend. “Yo, Tonio. How’s it hanging?” Massey’s distinctive gravelly tenor stopped Antonio dead.

  “Massey?”

  “Yeah. Like the hair? I’ve been undercover. Where’s my package?”

  “In my dressing room with Sasha.”

  Massey gave a reticent whistle. “Sasha with the—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence or I’ll have to hit you. Pity to put a kink in your fine face.” Antonio spoke to the man on security, Massey flashed his police identification and they let Massey backstage. “Better hurry. Sasha and I need to be onstage in two minutes.”

  They strode back to the dressing room, pushing through the people crowding the corridors.

  Antonio tapped on the door. “Sasha, it’s me.”

  Sasha opened the door fully and stood aside to let them enter.

  “This is Massey,” Antonio indicated his friend with a nod of his head.

  “Ready to go?” Massey asked.

  Dressed now, Bridget stood with a pained grimace. “I will die.” She was terrified, but resigned. “They’ll find us.”

  They heard the one-minute warning siren.

  Antonio seized Sasha’s arm. “We’ve got to go. Now.”

  Sasha smiled at Bridget. “Good luck.” She glanced at Massey. “Look after her.”

  “Come on, princess.” Massey pulled a black hat from his bag and another trench coat and handed them to Bridget. “Put these on. We don’t want anyone to see your distinctive hair. Antonio, you won’t be able to contact us until after Bridget testifies. Good luck, man.”

  Antonio grasped Massey in a brief bear hug. “Take care of Bridget for us.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The opening bars of the Frisco Stranglers’ song drifted through the arena when Antonio and Sasha, dressed in their costumes and ready to go on, ran up to the check-in lady. The strong scent of lubricant filled the air along with assorted body lotions and sprays. Men and women wandered about backstage, communicating their nerves.

  “You’re cutting it fine,” the woman said. “You’re on. Time clock is running.”

  “Sash, wait.” Antonio stopped her as she was about to hurry onto the stage.

  Sasha
smiled. “We’re doing this for Bridget. We promised we’d go out there and kick butt.”

  “We will, but I’ve had an idea. Let’s leave off the kiss this time.” He frowned. “Maybe a peck on the cheek instead.”

  “You’re the boss,” Sasha said, although she’d come to enjoy their kisses.

  “One more thing first.”

  Sasha’s brows rose. They hadn’t had time to warm-up, they’d missed their cue and now he wanted to talk? “What?”

  Antonio’s grin was slow and breathtaking. “I love you. When we’re through, I’ll tell you why I’ve been so slow realizing it.” That said, he pushed her onstage. A cheer came from the crowd and Sasha fell into the routine they’d choreographed despite being stunned by his announcement. She sashayed to the bed under the beam of a spotlight in the middle of the stage. Her pastel pink robe fluttered around her bare limbs, presenting a peek-a-boo show of long legs for the audience.

  Sasha half expected a bunch of raucous calls but the crowd remained silent as if they expected something special. She continued with the routine.

  Antonio loved her. Had he meant it? She glanced to the place where he waited in the wings and he gave her the thumbs-up. He loved her?

  He strutted onto the stage in the outfit they’d made for him—a pair of old-fashioned, well-worn blue jeans, a plaid shirt with the buttons undone, and a cowboy hat. He paused when he stepped into the spotlight. Sasha’s heart pitter-pattered. She swallowed as the crowd went wild. They stomped, whistled and catcalled until she could barely hear the music.

  She had eyes for no one but Antonio. They mightn’t have had time to warm-up, but her body was ready for him. Her robe floated to the ground along with his shirt. Sasha trailed her hand across his broad chest, a naughty grin springing to life when she noticed his erection. Grasping a special tag at the back of his jeans, she pulled, and they came away, leaving his cock to spring free. From there they flowed into the rest of the routine, moving together as if they’d practiced for years. The routine came to the finale. They climaxed then pulled apart. Together they stood and turned to acknowledge the audience. Antonio snatched off his hat and chucked it into the audience. The cheers echoed through the stadium as they left the stage.

  The emcee took their place, sliding into his smooth patter with a word from the sponsor and a joke for the appreciative audience.

  “Two more acts to go before voting takes place and two of the four contestants are eliminated.”

  By common consent, they headed back for the dressing room and privacy. Excitement bubbled in Sasha as she relived their routine and the applause. Best performance yet! And Antonio. She couldn’t believe he’d said he loved her. What would he say about his declaration? Antonio opened the door, but she balked on the threshold.

  The meager fixtures and fittings of the room had been wrenched from the walls, furniture overturned. Their belongings were strewn about the room. On the far wall, the De Santis brand was scrawled on the mirror.

  “Looks like we pissed off Fabio De Santis by performing.” It was difficult to keep an even tone. Security should have kept intruders away from the competitor area.

  Antonio scowled. “Stands to reason they’d have someone inside. Hopefully, they didn’t notice Massey and Bridget leave. From what Massey said, they intend to arrest him soon for racketeering. Maybe drugs charges too.”

  Sasha sighed. “I’m furious with her. Because of her my school is in chaos and I have Thomas Welsh after me, but I feel sorry for her, too. She was desperate, trying to survive. I’m not so sure I would have done anything different if I’d been in her situation.”

  “I know. Come on, let’s grab our stuff and report this. Hopefully, we’ll get a new dressing room and by that time, they’ll be ready to announce the finalists.”

  “I’m sure we’ll have time to talk,” Sasha said. “About love and slow men. One in particular.” She winked at him.

  Antonio exhaled, uncomfortable and ill at ease. “Yeah, I guess I owe you the truth, the reasons I’ve always kept our relationship professional.” He stood back for her to exit the dressing room. They reported the destruction in their dressing room and were allocated another plus a guard to stand outside their door.

  Inside their replacement room, they tossed their bags to the floor. Sasha settled on one of the chairs in front of the makeup mirror.

  “How do you think we went?” Antonio asked of the finals.

  Sasha shrugged. “Quit procrastinating. You’ve made me curious.” And a fraction worried about what he might say. He wouldn’t take it back?

  Antonio paced the small room, an indication of his unease. He picked up a bottle of lube from the complimentary samples left by the sponsors and toyed with it before glancing at her. “My parents weren’t good examples. I’ve told you that. My father and mother don’t talk.”

  Sasha nodded encouragingly, but wondered what was coming next. “I didn’t hit the jackpot when it came to parents, either.”

  Antonio set the lube down with a thump. “When I first went on the circuit, I fell in love with my partner, Rachel. She was funny and beautiful and meant everything. She was older. More experienced. But once we’d been together for a while and my guard was down, she stole my savings and left before I wised up. I wasn’t much smarter with my second choice. Gina wanted money and played me until she found another man with even more. Of course, my father found out and gave me a hard time about my stupidity.

  “After that, I concentrated on the circuit and kept away from emotions. And then you came along. You were different. We were so good together, so in synch. I loved every minute being with you, was happy.” He dragged his hand through his hair, a deep crease etched between his haunted eyes. “When you admitted your feelings, I…I took the coward’s way out and fled.” Antonio forced a smile. “So, there you have it. My dismal failures.”

  “You’re not a failure, Antonio. You’re sexy and successful, despite what your family might think.” Sasha grinned, her heart feeling lighter by the minute. He’d admitted they were good together, that she made him happy. Breathless and lighter at his confession, she stepped close and caressed his cheek. “I love you, too. Always have.” Their lips met, and they kissed for a long time.

  A knock rapped on their dressing room door. “Two minutes until the results are announced. Please assemble backstage.”

  * * * * *

  “The votes are collated,” the emcee said in a confidential manner.

  Anticipation leapt inside Sasha. Nerves, too. What if they hadn’t done enough to final?

  “We’ve done our best,” Antonio murmured, as if he could read her mind.

  Sasha gaped at him. He’d changed. In the past, he was so uptight she’d been afraid to speak before the reading of the results. She liked this new Antonio.

  “I’m going to call the four finalists and their partners onto the stage,” the emcee said. “Then I’ll announce the two contestants who have advanced to the final and explain the special treat we have in store for you.”

  “Don’t like the sound of that,” a competitor behind them whispered.

  “If they mention carrots…” Sasha said.

  The emcee read out their names and they walked onstage, each couple wearing different-colored robes with the sponsor’s logo embroidered on the back. The crowd fell silent. A drum roll echoed throughout the stadium.

  Sasha moved closer to Antonio, seeking reassurance in his touch.

  “Without further ado, the finalists are Damien Gray partnered by Rita Churchill and Antonio Perez partnered by Sasha Greenacre.”

  Applause and cheering assaulted Sasha’s ears. Antonio grabbed her in a crushing hug. She thought she smiled but all she could think was that they’d made it. For a woman who was never going onstage again, she was making an awful lot of public appearances.

  When the crowd settled, the emcee turned to the two finalists. “I guess you want to know what we’re going to do to you.” He turned back to face the crowd. “I gue
ss you’re curious, too. Well, I won’t hold you in suspense any longer. Two lucky members of the audience will help our finalists decide on elements to be added to their performance. Cherylee, bring out the barrel of seat numbers please.”

  The woman in a tight red dress wheeled out a huge barrel with thousands of numbered balls inside. The barrel turned with a touch of the hand, tumbling the balls around.

  “Antonio and Damien, I need your help here,” the emcee said. “Damien, please push that lever.”

  Damien pushed the lever. One white ball rolled out and Cherylee handed it to the emcee.

  “The person in seat 15,646, please stand.”

  A yahoo rang out from a thin man in a bright green suit. He high-fived the people sitting either side of him. With a dopey grin on his face, he stood.

  “Sir, congratulations. Please make your way up to the front of the stage. Antonio, please pull the lever.”

  Antonio did so and Cherylee handed the ball over to the emcee.

  “Seat number 813. Please stand. Wonderful.” The emcee beamed as a middle-aged woman leapt to her feet with a scream of excitement. “A woman this time. Ma’am, please make your way to the front of the stage. We have two large dice here with instructions on each of their six faces. Our two winners will shake the dice and you, the competitors, must fit the instruction on the face of the dice into your routine. The dice will be thrown three times during the routine. Cherylee, please rotate the dice for the audience and show us how it’s done.”

  Everyone watched the jumbo screen as Cherylee threw a lever and the large neon green dice spun and settled.

  “Cherylee has thrown a lick. This means that the competitor needs to work a lick into his routine. The direction on the dice must be completed in the next twenty seconds or there will be a penalty. Finalists, are you clear?”

  Both Antonio and Damien nodded.

  “Sure beats a carrot,” Antonio whispered to Sasha.

  “One final thing.” The emcee flipped a coin. “Call, Damien.”