The Edge of Heaven (Broken Wings Duet Book 2)

by Gia Riley

  The girl beside me, Ashlyn—as it says above her mirror—hands me a little silver tray covered in pills. “Take what you want, and pass it along,” she says without a second glance.

  Crystal didn’t mention this part, and she’s not here to ask. Her chair’s still empty, and when the girl on my other side gives me an impatient glare, I pluck two off the tray and pass it to her.

  I’m clutching the pills so hard in my hand, the color coating on one stains my skin. Opening my palm, I pick them off my skin and set them on the vanity. I have no intention of actually swallowing them.

  “Rookies,” Ashlyn says. “Trust me, you want to take those. Actually, have one of these, too. You’ll thank me later.”

  She adds a capsule to my two little circles and hands me a bottle of water. Still staring, she places a different combination of pills on her tongue and waits for me to do the same. My hands shake when I pick them up, and then I follow her lead and swallow mine just as she swallows her. I have no idea what I just ingested.

  Crystal returns with my outfit just as the silver tray bypasses her chair. She doesn’t take any of the pills, and that makes me panic. I shouldn’t have listened to Ashlyn or let her pressure me. Since when have I cared about fitting in? I’m always the misfit, the oddball out, but for some reason, blending in here is even more important to me. Because, if these girls believe I’m Ariel, then the customers will, too.

  By the time I get the costume on, my head’s foggy, and my vision is blurry. I can barely get my foot in the boots without falling over. Crystal mistakes the high for nerves and sits me back down.

  “You can do this,” she tells me. “I’ll be on the other side of the curtain the entire time. And Ace won’t be far.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. Never once did I consider that Ace would be watching me take my clothes off. It’s bad enough that the rest of the bar will see, but him? That makes me feel dirtier than all the others combined.

  Girl after girl, they file through the dressing room, onto the stage, and then back again. Some go more than one time, and others spend most of their time in the back room instead. Handfuls of cash get stuffed into purses and then locked up beneath their vanities. The drugs that got them started turn into drinks and then more pills.

  Ashlyn sets two shots in front of me and says, “Drink up.”

  Ten minutes later, she brings two more. My turn’s coming soon, and I don’t question it. My heart’s racing, and my mind is going a million miles an hour, but I tell myself that, if I drink enough and swallow one more pill, I’ll be too numb to feel anything at all. Regret won’t even exist.

  “I need some air,” I say to whoever hears me as I slide off my stool, praying my boots hit the floor and I stay upright.

  My forehead’s covered in sweat, yet my teeth are chattering. I’m on fire on the inside and freezing on the outside.

  I know the way to the back door, yet somehow, I take a wrong turn and end up in the back room. The black lights mess with my head even more, and the disco ball makes it hard for me to focus on anything but the trippy lights swirling across faces.

  Hands grip my waist and pull me back against a hard body.

  “This one’s mine,” the gruff voice says.

  I try to pry his hands off my body. Crystal’s words run through my mind. If you let one touch you, they’ll all expect the same. But I haven’t even gone on yet, and I’m afraid that, if I make this guy mad, they’ll laugh me off the stage.

  Out of nowhere, Crystal appears, and she sees the panic on my face. She steps between me and the guy whom I can’t see, and then his hands are off me and on her.

  “Get out of here!” she yells.

  And I listen.

  One door leads to another hallway, and then I recognize the kitchen. The fluorescent lights almost knock me on my ass, they’re so bright. Latching on to the counter, I use it as a guide until I’m near the fryers and then steps away from the back door.

  It opens, and Jasper steps through. The tears start to fall, and I throw my arms around his neck. I’m so glad to see him. Little pieces of red hair cling to his white shirt, and I remember that I’m not Winnie right now. I’m still Ariel, and he doesn’t recognize me. If he did, he’d be so ashamed.

  I hang my head and try to hide behind my hair like I always do.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  My voice would give me away, so I nod.

  His glances at my outfit, and I can feel the second his eyes connect with the little bit of bare skin between the top of my jean skirt and the crop top. It’s the one area of my body I’m still not used to, the spot where I’m most self-conscious.

  I’m not the only one who’s still not used to that spot because the second he sees it, his eyes grow wide, and he does a double take of my face. He tries so hard not to make the connection, but once he gets past the lashes and the bright red lips that match my hair, he sees it for himself. My scar, all jagged and ugly and still healing from surgery. I’m the only girl here who has been shot and has that kind of reminder plastered on her body. I should have had Crystal cover it up with some makeup.

  “Winnie?” he says in shock. “Please tell me I’m seeing things.”

  I’m still in denial, so I shake my head, avoiding speaking altogether. My voice is the only thing left he hasn’t deciphered.

  “What the fuck are you doing, dressed like that?”

  He grabs my arm so hard, I yelp in pain, and then I’m dragged down the hallway toward Ace’s office.

  “Let go of me,” I tell him.

  Any doubt he had disappears, and his fingers dig into my skin even harder. His strength is no match for my limbs made of jelly. I’m too high and drunk to put up any real fight.

  Crystal must have gone looking for me after the incident in the back room because she closes Ace’s door, kicks Jasper right in the crotch, and frees me. Jasper falls to the floor in a heap. I mean to ask him if he’s okay, but Crystal jerks me back toward the dressing room and gives me a look, like I should know better than to wander around the place on my own, especially dressed like this.

  “You’ll learn to stay where it’s safe, Ariel.”

  My two worlds just collided, and I have no idea how to make it right with Jasper. He’s blowing up my phone with texts when I check it, begging me to respond. I can’t. I don’t know what to say. He’s used to Winnie, but tonight, I’m Ariel. And she has a job to do.

  Instead of answering Jasper, I call Ace in his office and tell him to get his brother under control. I don’t wait for him to ask me questions. He knows what happened and probably figured it’d happen at some point tonight. Ace won’t let him ruin this for me.

  After I hang up, I might be a little bit proud of myself. Winnie would have caved to Jasper and let him manhandle her until she backed down and gave up the fight. But Ariel doesn’t do that. She’s fearless.

  I look at my reflection in the mirror, and I hate it less. Ariel’s not afraid of her own shadow. She’s everything I’m not, and I think I want to be her for a little while longer.

  Thirty-One

  Jasper

  Ace has me backed against the wall, and his hand’s around my throat. “Calm the fuck down,” he tells me.

  I can’t stop trying to punch his face in. Only one fist connected before one of the bouncers pulled me off him and set me in a chair. If he thought I was going to stay there, he’s lost his damn mind.

  “How could you?” I ask him. “She’s the only person I care about, and you’re destroying her.”

  “This was her idea, Jasper. I didn’t force her to put any of that shit on. And whatever she does on that stage tonight is her choice.”

  “She’s underage, Ace. I could call the cops right now and shut the whole place down.”

  He squeezes harder, and I can barely get a breath in. I’m turning red and purple and every color of the rainbow to match my eye.

  “If you pick up that phone, you’ll go down, too. You’re underage, Jasper. Do
you think sending us all to jail will make Winnie want you more?”

  I have to do something. I can’t let her do this. Winnie’s too good for a job like that. She hates everything Tess represented, and now, she’s in a bunch of thick makeup with a rat’s nest on her head. For what? To prove to Ace that she can do it?

  “You can’t let her do it,” I beg. “It’ll destroy her. She’s been through enough, Ace.”

  My brother doesn’t disagree. He knows she’s gone through more than her fair share of trauma and pain. But when does it end? Eventually, there has to be a limit. One person can handle only so much before they snap and break and can’t be put back together. Winnie’s beyond the point of no return, and if he lets her do this, it’ll only get worse.

  I try another approach because my brother hates when the girls get fucked up. Once they get sloppy, it’s harder to keep them out of trouble.

  “She’s high and drunk.”

  “I told her I’d look out for her. I have Crystal, the nicest dancer here, watching her. If she were in trouble, I’d know. I mean, she did knock you on your ass.”

  I’m not stupid. Maybe Crystal was in the right place at the right time a few minutes ago, but if Crystal wants to make money tonight, she can’t watch Winnie the entire time.

  “Let go of me.”

  “Are you going to calm down and leave Winnie alone?”

  “Yes,” I tell him.

  “If you get near her or do anything stupid, you’ll regret it,” he warns.

  My brother has some connections. None of them are as powerful as Trey’s. That’s when it hits me, and I give up the fight with my brother. I’ve done all I can to get through to him, but someone else can shut this down without the cops getting involved. And that someone punched me in the face and screwed up my arm.

  “Fine, I’ll back off.”

  Ace is hesitant to let go of me, so I push a little deeper to get him to believe me.

  “Lydia needs her dad. I don’t want you in jail.”

  Mentioning his daughter works, and he lets go of me. “Thank you. Now, either go home or go back to work.”

  I choose work, but first, I dart into the hallway and pull out my phone. A call to Trey goes unanswered, which doesn’t surprise me. He hates me and wants nothing to do with me, even after all I did for him while Winnie was in the hospital. But he can’t deny the text I’m about to send.

  Jasper: Winnie’s in trouble.

  Seconds later, he responds. I knew he wouldn’t ignore me if I mentioned Winnie.

  Trey: What happened?

  One mention of the bar, and he’ll stop what he’s doing and get here. Hopefully in time to stop Winnie from making a huge mistake.

  Jasper: She’s about to go in the pit with the vipers.

  Any regular at The Whip understands what that means.

  Trey doesn’t respond.

  Thirty-Two

  Trey

  Jasper: She’s about to go in the pit with the vipers.

  I drove today because the sky looked gray as hell, and I told Winnie I’d stop riding my motorcycle in the rain. She has enough to worry about, and I figured, if she found out I had taken the bike, she’d get upset. Right now, I wish I were on it. If I were, I could make it across town in half the time it’ll take in this piece-of-shit car.

  I’ve checked my phone a hundred times today, and there wasn’t a single word from her. I stopped myself each time I tried to call her because she’d asked for space and time, so that was what I was giving her. I wanted to show her that I did trust her and that I knew she could take care of herself.

  But I should have known better.

  Winnie doesn’t like being alone, and when she is, she usually ends up in one of the darkest places in her mind. She fights the nightmares and the memories, but when they strike, she can’t always climb back out of the agony. For her to end up at The Whip, I can’t even imagine what’s going on in that gorgeous head of hers. She hates that place. She despises everything it represents. That’s why I can’t figure out what possessed her to go there.

  Jasper has to be wrong. There’s no way Winnie would dance. She’s not like that. She doesn’t show off in tight pants or revealing tops. Not once have I ever seen her use her body to get attention, and she has killer curves in all the right places. I guarantee all those little punks she goes to school with notice. But that’s what I love about Winnie; she demands as much respect as she gives. She’d rather drown in an oversize T-shirt than stand out in something sexy.

  Until tonight.

  Big raindrops fall from the sky and pound against the windshield. I count each splat against the glass, anything to keep from picturing some asshole touching Winnie in the back room of The Whip. I was in there once, trying to keep Mick away from Tess when she was on a bender and needed to make some fast cash. I ended up dragging him out, and she stayed. He was a fucking mess, and I can’t blame him. You can’t unsee what we saw that night.

  Winnie wouldn’t last five seconds back there. She’s too pure, too innocent, and that’s exactly why they’d want her.

  Fuck.

  She’d make a fortune in no time.

  As I drive under the overpass, I ride the bumper in front of me. For the briefest of seconds, the rain stops, and it’s like life pauses. Suddenly, it’s a typical night. We’re a regular couple, and Winnie isn’t in trouble.

  The peaceful silence is so rare, it chokes me, and I have to grip the wheel with two hands to stay between the lines.

  When I come out on the other side, the rain’s twice as loud. The wipers make an obnoxious screeching sound because there’s not enough wetness on the glass. It’s sensory overload, and I can’t get my eyes, brain, and body to work together anymore. They’re all doing different jobs, and I need to get out of the car before I wreck it. A line of taillights completely stops me, and I use the shoulder to bypass the stopped traffic and then take the ramp for the next exit.

  Wait for me, Winn.

  Checking my phone, I take it as a good sign that Jasper hasn’t texted me again. But maybe it’s already over, and I’m too late. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve let her down. I wasn’t there when she got shot, and I had to drive away before I knew whether she’d live or die. I don’t deserve Winnie. I really don’t.

  But life’s so damn unfair, and if I could do it all over again, I would—with a completely new set of rules and priorities. Because here I am, working a job I hate, biding my time until Winnie’s done with school, and I’m destroying her in the process.

  She’s so desperate for our freedom, she ran away for a better life even though the one she had with Cindy was better than she’d had in years. Winnie hasn’t had that kind of support and care since before her dad overdosed.

  I tried to make sure she was safe and give her the best I could, but I’m not stupid. I probably only made it worse for her. If I wasn’t so selfish, I’d have gotten her into a home a long time ago. But I was only thinking of how fucked up that would make me. I’d rather she stayed in the trailer with me across the street than pull her out entirely. The truth is, I didn’t want Winnie to leave because I needed her.

  Now, she’s making the biggest mistake of her life…because of me.

  Thirty-Three

  Winnie

  I close my eyes, and the leftover little flashes of light explode behind my eyelids. I’m dreaming. I have to be. When I wake up, I’ll be in Trey’s bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. This floating feeling will disappear, and I’ll be thankful this night wasn’t real.

  Only that’s not what happens when my eyes open. I’m still in the dressing room, exactly where I was in the dream.

  Crystal isn’t a figment of my imagination. I see her plain as day as she sneaks out of the back room with a smile on her face.

  “Let me guess, the anticipation’s getting the best of you?” she asks.

  My grip on the vanity is so strong, my knuckles turn white. I don’t tell her that I drank too much or that I swallowe
d some pills. And I leave out the fact that I could throw up at any moment because of Jasper. He knows I’m about to take my clothes off, and that means I’m a whore. The rumor floating around school isn’t a rumor anymore. It’s the truth.

  Confidence. I can do anything if I pretend.

  Letting go of the vanity, I pretend I belong here and that my head doesn’t weigh a thousand pounds. The thumping against my skull is normal, and in this moment, I decide to treat the rest of the night like a TV show. I’m an actress playing a part, and even though my lines are all silent, I follow the script and take the direction Crystal gave me.

  “Are you ready, Ariel?”

  “I have to pee,” I tell her.

  She laughs and tells me, “Hurry up!”

  I don’t really have to pee. I just need some more liquid courage before I do this.

  You’d think, in a bar, there’d be bottles of liquor sitting all around the dressing room. That’s not the case. But the silver tray is still on Ashlyn’s chair, so I look around to see if anyone’s paying attention. They’re not.

  I don’t know if the pills belong to her or if they’re just a necessity supplied by The Whip, but I grab two more. They’re different colors than the ones I took before, and they go down easy. My stomach growls, and I guzzle some more water to shut it up. I should have eaten something today, but I’ve been too nervous and too busy to think about food.

  As soon as the song before mine ends, I find the blurry mark on the floor and stand on it like Crystal told me to do. She said something about posing, so I try to lift my arms above my head and let my top ride further up my ribs. I’m angled so that my scar is toward the curtain and not in the spotlight.

  Ace’s booming voice ricochets through my body. He’s holding the microphone so close to his face, I can hear the spit in his mouth. I’m so focused on that, I don’t pay attention to what he’s saying about me. All I hear is, “Ariel,” a bunch of hollering, and then the music starts, and Ace’s voice fades away.

  The curtain opens, and I forget how to breathe. The lights make me feel like I’m on fire, and my chest tightens so painfully, I drop my arms and blink a couple of times until the pain goes away.