by Nashoda Rose
Crisis and Ream looked from me to Logan, instantly aware that this wasn’t about touring.
“Eme had a miscarriage,” Logan said.
“Christ,” I said.
“Shit. Is she okay?” Ream asked.
Logan nodded. “It was a couple of weeks ago, but….” I stiffened, not liking he waited so long to mention it. His jaw clamped and his eyes grew dark. “It scared the shit out of me.” We were silent as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. “I found her in the barn on the floor and… the blood.” Logan closed his eyes. “Fuck, I thought I was going to lose her.”
Jesus. “What did the doctor say?”
Logan sighed. “The doctor wants to run tests, but”—he lifted his head—“I won’t risk her life for a baby.”
If anything happened to Emily, it would destroy him, and I suspected he’d never come back from that. Not after what they’d fought in order to be together.
There was silence for a few seconds, just the sound of Tear as he rose and walked to the pool and lapped at the water.
I pushed my beer aside. “Family first. No tour next year. We’ll write songs. Record. A few local charity concerts.”
Crisis nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Yep,” Ream said.
“Thanks, guys,” Logan said. “We can talk to Matt and do a few shows at Avalanche through the year. And at Molson Amphitheatre.”
Molson Amphitheatre was downtown Toronto. It was an outside venue with the cheap seats on a massive grass hill. When we were in our late teens and a struggling band, we’d been there countless times to see concerts.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell Richard the news. Tomorrow. I don’t feel like dealing with his bullshit today.”
Crisis slapped his palm on the table. “So, are we going to see this concert crashing chick around?”
I stiffened, not liking him calling Savvy a chick. Fuck, she wasn’t some chick.
She’d never been some chick.
“No.”
“Why not?” Ream asked.
“Because I don’t want her around.” But it was the opposite. I did want her around, and that was fucking with my head.
“She been to your dungeon?” Crisis asked, smirking.
“No. And she won’t.” He was referring to my warehouse. When I moved out of the penthouse I’d shared with Crisis and Haven, I’d bought a warehouse down by the docks. Large empty space with a punching bag, set of drums, and a few essentials. It was disposable. So was everything in it, which wasn’t much. It could burn down tomorrow, and nothing would change because I had nothing to lose.
Private. Simple. Uncluttered.
There’d been so much clutter in my head growing up that it constantly felt as if it would explode, and it had. It had exploded into fighting other kids. The bullies. The kids who’d tormented others. But it was more than that. Every time I’d fought, I’d been hitting my father.
It was his blood I’d spilled.
My fuckin’ dad’s comments. The pictures of my brother being shoved in my face as he’d shouted at me.
The hatred blazing in his eyes.
I’d wanted to hurt. To fight and feel the pain. Because in some ways, it had been my fault.
I always watched out for him. Until I didn’t.
“You seeing her again?” Logan asked.
I lifted my head. “No.”
Crisis jumped on that. “Why not? You’ve never given a crap about a chick. What’s with her? And why do you care if she dances at Compass?”
“Drop it, asshole.”
He held up his hands, but his eyes were filled with mischief. “Hey, it’s my turn, buddy. You were on my case about Haven.”
“That’s because you were texting her behind Ream’s back.” And payback was a bitch. “Weren’t you in bed with Haven when her brother came in the room before you were together?” I turned to Ream. “He told me you sat on the bed while he was between her legs under the covers, and you never knew.”
Ream’s temples throbbed. “What the fuck?” He glared at Crisis who wisely pushed back his chair ready to bolt. “You were doing that shit to my fuckin’ sister when I was in the room?”
“Shit, no. It wasn’t like that,” Crisis blurted. “You’re a dick,” he said to me.
“Should’ve left the Savvy conversation alone,” I said.
“Yeah, well, game on,” he said.
These guys had helped save me. The band. I sat, laughing and dicking around with them because this is what it was about. They gave me a family when I’d lost mine. When I’d been so fuckin’ angry at the world, including at myself, yet they hadn’t judged or questioned. Instead, they’d let me deal with whatever was fucking with me until I’d got my shit together.
Ream suddenly dove for Crisis, and beers and chairs toppled over as Crisis leaped out of his away.
The dog jumped up at the commotion, barking at Ream and Crisis.
It took two seconds before Ream tackled Crisis, mostly because Crisis was laughing so hard he couldn’t run, and they both fell into the pool.
This was a regular event between them. They weren’t blood brothers, but they were brothers in every other way.
They dunked one another under while the dog stood on the edge of the pool, wagging his tail watching. Then apparently having had enough of watching, it did a belly flop into the pool and tried to get in on the fun.
“She’s important to you. Saw it then. See it now,” Logan said.
“Yeah.”
“You going to do something about it?”
“Nope. Wouldn’t be good for her or me.”
“You sure about that, Kite?”
I remained quiet. No, I wasn’t sure. I was back then, but now….
Fuck, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
She’d been embedded in me since the first time I saw her that day in the school infirmary. I’d never looked in there. Didn’t care who was in there or why.
But her long red curls had been a beacon and I’d been the lost ship looking for a way out of the angry, stormy sea of emotions.
So, I’d looked, had stopped walking and stared at her. She’d been sitting on the edge of a chair, her hands resting quietly in Daniel Hennessey’s as tears streamed down his face. There’d been a tissue in his lap with blood on it and a smear still visible under his nostrils.
Savvy had spoken quietly to him, but I hadn’t heard her. I hadn’t needed to though. I’d seen it on her face. The compassion. Not pity. No, she didn’t have the puppy-dog sad eyes. Instead, there had been determination on her face mixed with understanding.
Daniel had been new at school, like Savvy, although at the time I hadn’t known her name. Daniel had a stutter as I’d heard a few kids talk about him. I’d known what was coming for Daniel as I’d known better than anyone how cruel kids could be.
As I’d watched them, she’d plucked a new tissue from the box and handed it to him. He’d wiped his tears and then she’d drawn him into her arms, and it was like all the tension drained from Daniel as he’d sagged within her cocoon of warmth and kindness.
I’d been unable to look away—from her. This girl with the red curls and warmth radiating from her.
When she’d pulled back, there hadn’t been sadness in her eyes, there had been strength and she’d offered it to Daniel.
I’d noticed him struggling to get his words out, and she’d listened, nodding. No frustration. No interruption. No attempting to finish sentences for him.
She’d just listened.
My chest had swelled.
When I’d finally broken away from the scene, I didn’t go to class where I’d been headed. Instead, I’d walked down to the river and skipped pebbles across the smooth surface.
I hadn’t known her name. But it was the first time I’d ever wanted to know more about someone since my brother’s death.
And that was when I began to watch her. It hadn’t taken me long to realize her soothing quiet eased the anger
in me.
As weeks turned to months, I’d liked her even more. She didn’t conform to fit in with the other girls. She simply was herself. There’d been forgiveness in her. Kindness and sympathy.
She became that beautiful, coveted orchid that I could never have.
Logan slapped me on the shoulder. “Hey. If you need to fight, let me know.”
He knew playing the drums helped with my anger, but even more was the punching bag or when we sparred together. The most recent being after my father had called.
I nodded. “Thanks. Might take you up on that.”
Normally, I had control. Steady. Easygoing. Nothing unsettled me. But this shit with my father and now Savvy brought back everything I’d buried a long time ago.
The dog swam after Ream, paws scratching his back as he paddled away from him. “Shit. Tear. Fuckin’ Kat will break my balls if she sees scratches all over my back.”
Logan chuckled.
I didn’t. I was thinking about the thank-you note Savvy had left on the steps for me under the rock. Some of the words had been smudged from the rain, and it was crinkled and torn, but I still had it. The only personal thing I’d kept from back then. Now, it sat in the nightstand drawer with the same rock.
“Name?”
“Savvy. Bree, one of the dancers, told me to see Frankie, but I never told her my name.”
The security guy smiled. “Right. Hijack.”
“Hijack?”
“You hijacked the cage.”
I offered a tentative smile. “That would be me.”
“I’m Jacob.” He opened the club door. “Piece of advice,” he said before I disappeared inside. I turned to look at the bulky guy. He looked to be about twenty and had tattoos covering every visible inch of skin showing, except his face. “Don’t let Greg see you. He’s still pissed you deaked out on him Saturday night.” He chuckled. “Doesn’t help that we roosted him on it. Boss man wasn’t too happy with him though.”
I felt bad about that. I didn’t want Greg to get in trouble. I’d have to apologize.
“Thanks for the advice, Jacob.”
“Sure thing,” he replied and shut the door behind me.
I stood in the foyer of the club, expecting it to be dirty and unattractive without the nighttime glow from all the blue lights. But the place was spotless, with clean stone floors and charcoal gray walls that had a shimmery effect on them. As I walked into the bar and dance floor area, I saw the four ornate floor-to-ceiling columns standing in a circular display around the dance floor, reminding me of a Greek arena. The cages were beside each column on pedestals and my skin heated thinking about dancing in there.
I heard voices and my gaze directed to the stairs up to the VIP section. Three women descended while chatting, and I stopped.
“Frankie, come on.” It was Bree. “One Saturday. It’s important.”
“Everything is important to you,” the woman replied. It was the gorgeous woman I’d seen talking to Killian, who I guessed was Frankie, the woman who hired the dancers. “You had last Saturday off.”
“And another in May,” the third girl chirped as she stepped off the last stair.
Bree sneered and shook her head, mimicking her by mouthing the words. I smiled liking Bree immediately. She reminded me a bit of Mars. She didn’t look like she’d take much shit from anyone.
“God, he’s going to have a shit fit,” Bree muttered.
Frankie had her hand on the railing as she turned to look at Bree. “You need to dump that asshole. He’s a useless piece of shit who does nothing but feed off you.”
Bree’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I know. But he’s fun.”
“He’s fun because he’s not stressed. Because he doesn’t work and lives off his girlfriend—you”—Frankie put her hand on Bree’s arm, and her face softened—“kick him to the curb, baby. Then we can go out and celebrate. Drinks will be on me.”
Bree hugged Frankie. When she pulled away, she noticed me standing at the entrance. “Hijack. You showed. Come meet Frankie.” She paused and said halfheartedly, “And Tabitha.”
“Tab,” the other girl corrected.
I walked onto the dance floor, my heels that I was forcing myself to wear every day, clicking over the polished stone floors.
All eyes were on me and my pulse raced as I felt my cheeks flush. It was unnerving to be scrutinized, and it was scrutinized because Frankie was looking me up and down probably deciding whether I looked good enough to dance, while Tab was scrutinizing, no doubt evaluating the possible competition.
“Hey.” I waved when I drew closer. “I’m Savvy.”
Bree skipped over and put her arm around me. “Frankie, this is the girl from Saturday night.”
Frankie approached, and I was a little intimidated, okay, a lot intimidated. When she walked, it was with presence, her shoulders back, chin up, not too much, just enough to let a person know not to fuck with her. This was the kind of woman Killian would totally go for, confident and self-assured just like him.
She held out her hand. “I’m not sure if this is a pleasure or not considering you danced in one of our cages and then snuck out on Greg.”
I had debated a million times over whether to come, but I had nothing to lose. At least by showing up, there was a chance I had the job. “I’m so sorry.” I didn’t want to lie and tell them about Killian, so I avoided. “I know I broke a club rule, but I just wanted a chance. A piece of paper doesn’t show what I can do.”
“Club rules aren’t to be broken—ever. Got it?” Frankie said, frowning.
I swallowed, nodding.
Bree laughed. “Don’t worry. You’re not getting arrested or banned from the club or anything. Frankie just likes being a hard-ass. Besides, Brett wouldn’t allow it. He deals with his own shit. The only time he would let the police in the club is if there was a murder, and that wouldn’t happen because…” She shrugged. “Well, you just wouldn’t do that shit in Compass. It’s why I like working here. Safest club in the city.”
“Did Mr. Westhill see me dance?” I asked tentatively.
“Call him Brett, he prefers it,” Frankie said. “And yes, briefly. You’re good but too technical for this place.”
My heart pounded as panic set in. Shit, I couldn’t lose this opportunity. I had the landlord knocking on my door this morning while I’d hid under the covers pretending I wasn’t there. It was Trevor who’d saved me. I’d heard him in the hall telling the landlord I’d gone out of town for a few days.
I’d invited Trevor over for breakfast after the landlord was gone.
“I can do better. It was my first time and I was nervous.”
Frankie walked toward the bar. “There is no room for nerves on the floor. And I have a thousand girls who’ve applied and can dance like you did.”
I rushed after her. “Yes, but not a girl who wants the job as bad as me.” I stopped a few feet away from her as she typed something on her laptop that sat open on the bar top. “I really want the job. I need the job. Please.”
Frankie shut the lid of her laptop and swiveled around on the barstool. “Why?”
I went with complete honesty; Frankie seemed like she respected direct. “My ex cheated on me six months ago. I had to move out and quit my job because he was my boss.” I heard Tab snort behind me. “He spread nasty rumors about me and now I can’t get a job teaching dance. I haven’t worked in months, and I need to dance. I want to dance.”
She eyed me up and down, eyes curious. “You have a new boyfriend?” I had no idea why she’d ask that, but I quickly shook my head. “A guy like your ex who wouldn’t want you in a nightclub dancing?”
“No.” I hadn’t spoken to David in months. But there was a rock star drummer who was a friend of the owners who didn’t want me dancing here.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Bree, you just got your Saturday night off. Savvy will take your place for one night.” She looked at me. “One night. A trial. Brett will be here. He can have the final
say, but from our argument the other night, he liked you.”
I wanted to jump up and down. Instead, I grinned. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
Frankie stood, and despite her five-three height, she appeared way taller. “And wear the heels 24-7. In the shower if you have to. You need to learn to dance in those. It was obvious you’re not used to them.”
Shit, the mask. I wanted to be able to wear the mask just in case Killian ever showed up. “So, what I was wearing the other night with the mask? Would that be okay?”
She sidled past me. “It’s good. I like the mask. Mysterious. Keep it, but the blue goes. All the girls wear either black or white. Bree will find you something.” She clapped her hands together. “Let’s go. On the floor. Drop the bag, Savvy. You need to learn a few things before Saturday night.”
I was soaking wet as I sat on the floor, knees bent, elbows perched on them, head hanging forward and water bottle between my legs.
Frankie was tough. Like tougher than Mrs. Perch, my dance instructor when I was seventeen and living in Waterloo with Ms. Evert. Mrs. Perch was called, behind her back of course, “the taskmaster.” There’d always been another task to master before we were allowed to leave class.
Bree sat beside me, the girl Tammy, who I found out was always late and who carpooled with Shari—meaning they both were always late—sat on my other side. Shari was beside her, flat on her back with her arm over her eyes. They were nice, obviously good friends and were amazing dancers.
Frankie shut off the music. “Good work, ladies. Bree, go over Compass rules with Savvy?”
“Sure thing,” Bree chirped.
“No hooking up with the customers,” Tammy blurted. She had a high-pitched voice that squeaked a little, and massive amounts of curly blonde hair that was frizzy and stuck out in every direction. But she had cute soft features, and for some reason, the crazy hair went well with her sweet rounded face.
“Or other staff,” Bree added and turned to Tab, who was ignoring all of us and putting her water and jacket in her bag.
Tab straightened and lifted her thin brows at Bree. “I can do whatever I want off the premises.”
“Yeah. Sure you can. Until Frankie finds out you’re fucking one of the security guys,” Shari muttered without taking her hand off her face.