by Nashoda Rose
“We’re actually just going to dance,” I said. It was close to eleven, and I had to change in the bathroom before I slipped inside one of the cages. Trevor told me the dancers went on a ten-minute break at the same time as the DJ at eleven-fifteen.
“Right.” Mars winked at the guy. “Sorry, sexy, but we have a covert operation going down.”
His brows dropped in confusion and then he shrugged. “Uh, yeah, sure. Maybe later.”
“Definitely later,” Mars said.
He grinned then headed back to his friends while I slipped out of the booth with my over-sized purse that held my outfit.
“I have to change. I need one of you to come get me in the bathroom when the dancers leave their cages.”
Mars held up her hand. “I’m in.”
Before I had the chance to rethink my decision, I darted through the crowd toward the washroom. The music pumped, the floor vibrated, and there was a lively energy in the club. An energy I’d need because my nerves were locking my limbs and I’d land flat on my face if I didn’t pull my shit together.
I could do this.
I was good at this.
Well, I was good at dancing. Being sexy, not so much, but wearing a mask would help with any inhibitions. No one would know who I was. I’d become someone else just like I did when I danced. I told a story. Tonight would just be a story I’d never told before.
And it wasn’t like Compass was a dive. It was a prestigious club.
I slipped into the bathroom and into a stall and quickly changed from my plain black V-neck dress to the sexy outfit I’d brought.
“Savvy,” Mars called. “Come on. The girls just left the cages.”
I took a deep breath, undid the latch of the stall and stepped out. The two women standing at the sink redoing lipsticks glanced at me in the reflection of the mirror.
“Holy shit, Sav, you look smokin’ hot,” Mars said.
“Thanks.” I wore a blue sequin unitard that had a mesh mock neck and slim leg fit. I had on black strappy stiletto heels and had taken my hair tie out, so my long red ringlets hung down my back and over my shoulders. But what completed the look was the satin black cat mask I wore with tiny pearls along the outer rim.
It was the sexiest dance performance outfit I had. I normally danced in bare feet, so the heels were a challenge. But when I’d looked up images on the Internet of the dancers at Compass, they’d all been wearing heels, so I had to wear them.
Turning toward the mirror, I popped off the lid of my deep ruby-red lipstick and leaned forward, applying it over the pink gloss I’d been wearing.
“Oh, man. The guys are going to blow their loads over you,” Mars said, watching me in the reflection.
Using my fingernail, I fixed the small smudge at the corner of my mouth and then stepped back. I barely recognized myself in the mirror, and I kind of liked the look. It was sexy, and I liked being sexy.
She took the lipstick from me, put the lid back on, and grabbed my purse where I’d stuffed my clothes. “Come on. Let’s get you a job at Compass.”
She tugged on my arm and I stumbled in the stiletto heels. Shit, I’d have to practice dancing in these if they hired me.
“You’re sexy as hell and an incredible dancer,” Mars said. “Just don’t think about anything but the music.” Her voice rose as the music blared when we came out of the washroom.
Little sparks flared across my skin. Dancing in a cage with the roar of the music and people all around had a certain thrill to it. It was nothing like in a studio with students watching or even on stage when I’d done a few minor roles in small budget plays.
Dancing to me was like jumping off a cliff and having no idea where you were going to land, but it didn’t matter because you were flying and free.
It was being fearless. No problems. No restrictions. No tomorrow.
Dancing was the only place I felt as if I had no inhibitions and could just be me.
“That one.” Mars pointed to one of the empty cages.
We weaved through the crowd to the cage on the white platform with five steps up. There was a red velvet rope across the stairs.
“Go,” Mars hissed when I hesitated. “Security.” She shoved me forward, and I stumbled up the steps and climbed over the rope. “I’ll distract him.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see a huge guy who looked like he could carry five two–hundred-pound men out of the club with ease. His gaze was locked on me as he shouldered his way through the crowd toward us.
Shit. I quickly opened the cage door and stood there for a second, frozen. Could I really do this? Did I want to? Did I have a choice? I could find a job in a clothing store or waitress or something, but I wanted to dance.
I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Besides, the money at Compass beat all those other jobs.
I closed my eyes, and the crowd faded out as I began to move to the music. It took a few minutes and then it happened. The world no longer existed. Nothing did except my body alive and tingling with exhilaration as I danced, letting the beat vibrate through me.
It didn’t matter that I was in a club. What mattered was I was dancing and I loved it.
I heard the catcalls and cheers and inwardly smiled. And I’d never felt sexy before. Even dancing with David in the studio doing demos for students, I hadn’t felt sexy. It had always been all about him, and I’d been worried about doing something wrong. He never wanted to look bad in front of his students.
I grabbed the cage bars as I shimmied down to a crouch, smiling at the men surrounding the cage who watched me. I noticed the security guy standing with Mars at the steps of the cage glaring, but he made no move to force me to leave.
I danced until my skin was damp with sweat. I wasn’t tired. Actually, I was just warming up when I saw the dancers return.
I slowed my body, smiled at the guys watching me, then opened the cage door. The group of guys whistled and cheered, and two of them came over to talk to me when I walked down the steps, but the security guy blocked them.
“Nice moves,” the girl, whose cage I’d hijacked said, smiling.
“Uh, thanks,” I replied. “Sorry about stealing your cage. But I was hoping to gain enough attention to maybe have a chance at a job here.”
“Oh, you gained attention. Talk to Frankie upstairs. She hires the dancers. Tell her Bree sent you.”
My chest swelled as I pulled off my mask. “Oh, my God, thank you.”
She shrugged. “No problem. Any girl who just did what you did deserves a chance.” She nodded to the stairs on the right of the bar. “Frankie is in the VIP section. She and the boss saw you.”
Boss? My eyes widened then darted to the VIP section. Brett Westhill was here? Had he seen me? Was that good or bad? I could only hope he’d seen me and liked my performance.
Bree opened the cage door. “Come by Wednesday afternoon at two. We go over our routines with Frankie.” Bree raised her voice. “Hey, Greg. Let this girl pass on Wednesday. She needs to see Frankie.”
The security guy in the black T–shirt that had Compass scrolled in white on the top right corner nodded to Bree, but he was scowling. He looked unimpressed with my little incident.
Mars passed me my purse then grabbed my hand excitedly, jumping up and down. “Oh. My. God. You were incredible. Amazing. Sexy as hell, and I swear you made a few guys come in their pants.” Gross, but I smiled, acknowledging the compliment, and I loved it. “Even Greg here was drooling. Weren’t you, Greg? Wasn’t she amazing?”
His scowl hadn’t let up, but there was a brief flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll have to escort you ladies out of the club.” He glared at me. “No matter how good you were, you broke a club rule, and that’s not tolerated.”
“Yeah, okay.” I was getting a chance at the job and didn’t care we were being kicked out.
He ushered us off the dance floor, and a smiling Olivia met up with us, her eyes sparkling as she went on about how amazing I was.
Gre
g’s cell vibrated as he opened the back door for us to leave. He put it to his ear. “Yeah?” He didn’t say anything for a second, but his eyes darted to me. Olivia and Mars had stepped outside, but I didn’t get the chance as Greg snagged my arm.
“Sure thing, Kite.”
What? Kite? Did he say Kite?
He tucked his phone away in his back pocket. “Need to take you upstairs.”
Oh, fuck. “Did you say Kite?” God, please say no.
Mars and Olivia turned, realizing I wasn’t walking with them. “What’s wrong?” Mars asked.
“Need to take her upstairs,” Greg stated. “You girls can wait here.” Mars and Olivia came back inside. “Give her ten minutes. You’re not here when we get back, I’ll put her in a cab.”
“We’ll be here,” Mars proclaimed, and Olivia nodded.
He pulled me away from the door, but my feet weren’t moving, so I stumbled. “Did you say Kite?” My voice cracked on his name.
He ushered me toward the stairs that led to the VIP section. I had to have imagined him saying Kite. What were the chances he’d be here tonight, two days after I talked to him about working here?
But if he was friends with Brett, then he could be here. He could’ve seen me and that was why he asked Greg to bring me upstairs.
“Listen, Greg, I….” My mind whirled for some kind of plausible excuse, but I couldn’t think of anything that would prevent him from dragging me upstairs.
A girl brushed by me, clutching her stomach and running for the washroom, and I knew exactly what to do.
“I don’t feel so great.” I staggered, and he turned to me as I bent over, holding my stomach. “Oh, God, I think I’m going to be sick.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw his face blanch. Yep, no guy wanted to see a chick throw up in the middle of a club. Especially not the guy currently responsible for me.
“Fuck,” he muttered and hauled me through the crowd to the women’s washroom.
I put my hand over my mouth and groaned. He slammed his palm into the washroom door. “I’ll wait here for you.”
I disappeared inside, and the second the door closed, I ran into a stall, took out my black V-neck dress and flats that were sticking partially out of my purse and quickly changed.
Grabbing a wad of toilet paper out of the stall, I wiped the red lipstick from my mouth then put the hair tie back in.
I came out of the stall and looked at myself in the mirror. Plain. Unsexy. Unnoticeable.
Perfect.
I hitched my purse over my shoulder and came out of the washroom keeping my head down. From the corner of my eye, I saw Greg look up, straighten then lean back against the wall when he realized it wasn’t the girl with the flowing red ringlets and unitard.
I hurried through the crowd and toward the back door. Just before the hallway, I chanced a glance up at the VIP section. That was when I saw him.
Killian. Holy shit. He stood leaning his hip against the glass railing.
He was talking to a girl with jagged, short blonde hair with tattoos down one arm. She wore a tight, sequined, black, spaghetti-strapped top and looked to be in her late twenties.
Her hand rested on his arm as she said something and he laughed, his head tilting back as he did it. I was too far away to hear it, but I didn’t need to. He looked good enough laughing without any sound. That was a good sign. It meant he’d probably not recognized me in the cage.
Killian’s eyes shifted from the girl, into the crowd below as if he’d known I was standing there. Any remnants of a grin disappeared, and his eyes narrowed.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I backed away then spun, banging into a guy. I muttered a fast apology and then as fast as I could, I ran for the back door.
Mars and Olivia were leaning up against the brick wall talking to one of the bouncers.
“Let’s go. Now.” I hurried out the back door and down the alley, not waiting to see if they followed me.
Mars jogged up beside me on one side and Olivia the other. I waved my arm out to a cab and it pulled over. Thank you, Toronto cabbies. You never had to go searching for a cab in this city.
We piled in and I gave him Mars’s address as she was closest to the club.
“What’s wrong?” Mars asked. “Something happen? Did you get in trouble?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Mars brows furrowed with concern. “You’re shaking.”
Because he did that to me. I had no control over my body around him, and it was utterly ridiculous. I felt ridiculous, damn it. I’d never felt this way with David. There were butterflies in the beginning and he’d been my instructor, so I was a bit in awe of him. Plus, David Knapp was handsome and a charmer. But it had taken a year of him asking before I agreed to date him.
“Killian was there.”
“Oh, shit,” Olivia said. “Did he see you?”
“I’m not sure. It was far away and it was crowded, so maybe he didn’t know it was me.” He totally knew it was me, but there was that smidge of hope he hadn’t recognized me.
“So what if he did,” Mars replied. “You’re out with your girls at Compass. Nothing wrong with that.”
True. And I wasn’t in the dance outfit. “Yeah.” And if he happened to be watching while I danced, he’d have never known it was me while wearing the mask and outfit.
What worried me was that there was a part of me that hoped he’d seen me dance and that maybe Killian Kane thought I was sexy.
Because no matter how many years it had been, or what he’d said to me at the concert, my lips still burned for him.
“So, what happened with that Savvy chick? You seeing her again?” Crisis asked as he came out onto Logan and Emily’s patio, holding two beers. He passed one to Ream then cracked the cap on his and the bottle hissed. “You talk to Brett about hiring her?”
He knew damn well I hadn’t, but Crisis loved to press buttons, and he’d found my button—Savvy. I’d gone to Compass the other night and talked to Brett about her, but it sure as hell wasn’t to hire her.
I’d arrived just as Brett was arguing with Frankie about some girl in a flashy blue outfit who had danced in one of the cages when the paid dancers went on break. Frankie wasn’t happy about it, but Brett was more lenient and wanted her found so he could talk to her.
My guess he wanted to do a lot more than talk. I saw Greg escorting the girl out of the club and decided to end the argument by asking Greg to bring the girl upstairs.
But it never happened. Greg called me back and said she’d taken off. That was when I swore I saw Savvy on the dance floor. But in the crowd and dim lighting, I couldn’t be sure. Before I could do anything, she was gone.
Crisis swigged his beer then set it on the patio table. “What’s the story with her?”
“No story.” But there was a story.
When I thought of Savvy, it was like peering through a stained glass window. A multitude of beautifully ornate colors that didn’t allow me to see to the other side. Nothing was clear and defined when it came to my emotions with her. But fuck, it was beautiful.
The issue was I liked clear and defined, and she fucked with that. And why it was better she stayed away from me.
“There’s a story,” Ream said under his breath.
“The story is we need to decide about our next tour,” I said.
We were at Logan’s having a band meeting. Richard was on my case about touring, and we never decided on anything until we discussed it as a group.
That meant we all had to agree or it was a no go.
This royally pissed off our manager, Richard, as he thought we should do whatever he thought was a good idea.
“We have to decide this today,” I said, looking at each of the guys. “We do another charity concert in October. We all agree on that?”
Everyone nodded, except Logan who wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he stared at the surface of the pool. Tear, Emily and Logan’s German shepherd, lay at his feet snoring, bu
t one eye flicked open once and a while as if to make sure Logan was still there.
I continued, “We finish the album in the next eight months then go on tour.”
“Fuck, man. I’d rather talk about that chick you’re interested in,” Crisis said. “And we’ve done enough tours for a while.”
Crisis didn’t want to leave Haven, especially since she was pregnant and by the time we went on tour, she’d have had the baby. But touring after an album released was good business, and the fans liked to see us in concert.
Ream slowly turned his beer on the table. “Kat’s art gallery is expanding next year. I’d like to be around to help her out, and we’re trying to have a baby.”
Crisis shifted his chair, and the metal scraped the patio stones. “Richard can go fuck himself. We need a break from touring.”
Sitting back in my chair, leg casually resting over the other, I addressed Logan. “What do you think?”
He didn’t say anything and was still staring at the pool, his brows furrowed. Logan was the band, and it meant everything to him. He was originally the one who pushed us to go on tour. The underground fighting he’d done was to make money for us to actually tour in the first place.
I may deal with the business side of the band, but Logan was the glue. He kept every single one of us on the same page.
He also had a shit past, and a dad who was a hundred times worse than mine. He’d suffered a fuck of a lot emotionally and physically to save his girl, Emily, from the bastard’s sick sex trafficking ring.
There was nothing in this world Logan wouldn’t do for her. There was nothing he hadn’t done. And from the look of his dark, anguished eyes, whatever was bothering him had to do with Emily.
“Logan?” This was from Ream.
Logan dragged his gaze away from the pool and looked at each of us.
Fuck. It was bad. “What’s up?” I asked him.