by Carina Adams
“No,” I quickly assured her. “But, Belle Reve Penitentiary?” Her eyebrows rose and she gave me a blank look, completely clueless. “Home of the Suicide Squad. Huge presence in the DC comic universe.” I was a Marvel girl myself, but Liv had gone as Harley Quinn for Halloween for the last three years.
She snorted. “It means sweet dreams, so I thought it was his pathetic attempt at a catchy name. The fact my boss named his company after the place psychos call home makes so much more sense. I can see him as a comic book villain.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal. “It’s not the same as Soiree. Not by a long shot. I miss working for Rome.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Sometimes, when you work with someone long enough, you start to forget you’re just friends or co-workers. In this industry, it’s even harder. You’re selling a fantasy and it’s easy for some to get caught up in that illusion. I’m in love with my girlfriend. But there were feelings that weren’t reciprocated. Words spoken that can never be taken back. Leaving seemed like the best option for everyone. China offered me a job and I took it.”
I hadn’t seen that coming. Liv and Frankie were so good together it was hard to imagine someone else ever believing they stood a chance with either of them. Then again, Livie was practically perfect in every way and it would be easy for someone to fall for her.
“That sucks.”
She lifted one shoulder. “It all worked out in the end. I still talk to everyone and they’re all excited to meet you.” She pulled into a private lot, leaned out her window, and punched a code into the security box. The electric arm rose immediately and she parked in the first space she found.
“Violet is an artist in every sense of the word. She doesn’t just dance; she creates a masterpiece. She’ll help you with routine and movement.” She pushed open her door, still talking, and I scrambled out to meet her at the front of the car. She directed me towards the plain brick building in front of us.
“Peach is anything but a Southern belle. She’s everything naughty and just a little bit nice. She’ll teach you about stage presence and how to work the crowd.” Liv pulled open a door and held it for me. “Listen to them both, do what they say. They’re the best at what they do.”
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re leaving me here?”
“No.” She offered a small smile. “I’m going to do everything else to get you ready.” She started up the steps before I was able to ask what that meant.
On the third floor a small white sign with the words Soiree Studios in bold black letters told me we’d arrived. Liv paused at the security panel next to the door and within seconds there was a loud beep and she pulled open the door and made sure it closed securely behind us.
I’d never been inside a dance studio, but the wide open space with gleaming hardwood floors, white walls, and Eminem blasting from hidden surround-sound speakers was not what I’d expected. I followed Liv down a small walkway, marked by a bright red runner, and glanced around as I tried to absorb it all. On the right was a sitting room of sorts with two leather chairs and a coffee table that faced a television hanging on the exterior brick wall. On the other side, a long wall held the same logo I’d seen in the hall.
We turned around the corner and a startled sound flew from my lips. The loft-like room was enormous. Oversized floor to ceiling windows overlooked the river on my right, separated only by small sections of exposed white brick. Across from them, a mirrored wall made the area seem even larger. At the end of the room, a plain white wall held two unmarked doors. The space was bright, warm, and welcoming.
Unlike the small group of people who stood in a semi-circle half way down the room. They’d stopped talking the minute we’d arrived and an uncomfortable silence settled over them. They watched us almost warily.
“They say you can’t go home again,” a tall brunette drawled as she stepped away from the others, her arms crossed over her buxom chest. “But looky what that cat dragged in.”
“And she brought us a new toy.” The only man in the group kept all expression from his face, yet his eyes sparkled as they bounced back and forth between me and Liv. “Ladies, the prodigal dancer has returned.”
“’Bout damn time!” A woman about my height, hair tucked under a newspaper boy cap, squealed as her face split into a grin and she rushed forward, practically jumping onto Livie.
My friend laughed as she folded her arms around the other woman, hugging her tight. Within seconds the entire group had surrounded us, each of them going in for their own hug, and excited chatter filled the air.
“And who is this curious creature?”
“This,” Liv winked at me over her shoulder before turning back to them, “is Cady.”
They all seemed to lean back away from me at once, four sets of eyes surveying me. I felt exposed and wanted nothing more than to run away and hide from their judging stares. I forced my shoulders back and met each gaze.
The man’s lips parted in an exaggerated O when I reached him. “Katie?” He arched an eyebrow and tapped his chin thoughtfully as if trying to work something out.
I smiled at the common mistake. “Nope. Cade-ee. With a d.”
“Cady with a d.” His eyes glued to mine, his tone flat, almost unimpressed. Then, he grinned. “Cady D.” He nodded. “I like it.” I shook the hand he offered, surprised by the way his rough calluses scratched my skin. “I’m Randy.” He waved his other hand in the air exaggeratedly. “Your costume extraordinaire.”
“Please.” The tall brunette bumped his shoulder playfully with hers as she groaned. “Randy does it all. Hair and make-up expert, costume designer, part-time scheduler, full time therapist. There isn’t a thing he doesn’t help with. He keeps the office running for Rome and the rest of us sane.” The twang in her voice was clear. “I’m Peaches. I’m so freaking excited to have you here.”
“I’m Violet.” The smaller woman told me, as she stepped forward slightly. “We’ve met, even though you probably don’t remember. We went dancing for Glitter’s birthday last year. And since you got my girl to come back home, you’re pretty much my favorite person in the world.” She spoke so fast, I barely kept up.
“Don’t take that to heart,” the third woman chuckled. “Vi has a shit ton of favorites. She finds something to love about everyone.”
Violet shrugged. I didn’t know if it was because she was unable to argue the point, or if she just didn’t care what people thought.
“I’m Myra,” the other woman continued. “You’re either here to replace me, or to join me.”
There was no anger in Myra’s tone. Yet Liv jerked in surprise, her head whipping toward the other woman.
“What?” The words were a hair more than a whisper, spoken in either shock or anger. “Where’s Jade?”
No one answered. Instead, they all seemed to shrink back, silent, attention on the windows behind us or on the gleaming hardwood beneath our feet. Marshall Mathers’ words echoed around the room as he told us we only had one shot, that opportunity comes once in a lifetime.
Randy cleared his throat. “Why don’t you two go catch up. The girls and I need to get acquainted with Miss Cady D.”
Myra nodded and turned, not waiting for Livie to follow.
Liv gave me a small smile. “I’ll be right back. You’re in good hands.”
I watched them leave the large room, but before I could wonder too much about what was going on, the other three snagged my attention.
“So,” Peaches began as she circled me. “Glitters said you haven’t danced before.”
“Glitters?” I asked, turning my head as far as I could to see her. It had been the second time someone had mentioned this person I didn’t know.
Peaches cocked an eyebrow before she looked at her friends. “Well, shit.” She lapped her lips. “Olivia?” She sounded completely unsure.
Randy, on the other hand, nodded. “Olivia.”
“We get so used to stage names,” Violet explained, “we
sometimes forget real ones. I repeatedly got Facebook friend requests from a Delaine Fowler and I had no idea who it was so I declined them.”
Peaches started to laugh. “I couldn’t figure out why she kept saying no.”
“Glitters is Olivia.”
“Oh!” It made sense and matched her. “What’s my stage name?”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Randy stepped directly in front of me and tugged on the ends of my hair. “First we need to figure out routines and songs. Then come costumes and your signature look. I’ll work on your wardrobe while you train. Hair and makeup is Friday night or Saturday morning, depending on how fast you can learn your dances. Your stage name will come somewhere along the way. It’ll be something you love or a piece of your personality you want people to focus on.”
I nodded, overwhelmed. So much to learn I didn’t even know where to start. “What do I do first?”
Violet pulled off her hat, letting long deep-purple curls fall around her face, and tossed it to Randy before she lifted the tendrils into a messy bun. “We,” she stressed the word, “create your routine to match your strengths. You’ve never danced anywhere, right? Professionally, I mean.”
“No. Never.” The situation suddenly hit me and my stomach tightened in panic. I was so screwed. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” I never should have agreed to do this. I glanced toward the other end of the room, wondering if I could make a run for it.
Peaches lifted a shoulder, a smile tugged on her lips. “That’s where we come in.” She motioned between her and Violet. “We’re gonna teach you everything.”
Fear scaled my spine. “I think I made a mistake.”
“No, you didn’t.” Peach argued. “You passed Rome’s test, which is the hardest part. I promise. As long as you can count to eight, you’re fine.”
Violet nodded. “Even if you’d been dancing since you were little, you’d need to learn this from scratch. It’s actually harder for people who have a background.” She lifted a shoulder. “We don’t just dance. We burlesque.”
I opened my mouth to ask what the difference was but Randy stopped me with a shake of his head. “Take a seat, Cady D,” he motioned me to follow him to the wall of windows. “It’s gonna be a long day. Rest when you can.”
Five
Roman
As another mile disappeared behind me, I adjusted in my seat. We still had another half-hour on the freeway and an hour on shitty back roads after. Then, we had to turn around and drive home.
I spent the majority of my time in a damn vehicle, either by myself or transporting others. Usually it didn’t bother me. If I was alone, I turned on Audible and listened to whatever best seller had snagged my attention that week. If I had company, they helped pass the time with small talk.
Grover Mitchell was driving me out of my damn mind. Twenty miles in, as he repeated the same fucking story about the woman he’d picked up at the club and what a good fuck she'd been for the third time, I’d been ready to pull over and leave his pathetic ass on the side of the highway. Or crash the truck, just so I didn’t have to hear him talk anymore.
An hour after that and I couldn’t remember why in the hell I’d hired him. Yeah, he was the size of a grizzly bear, looked even more menacing, and brought in the college crowd, but the guy was a dick. It surprised me that none of my girls had murdered him in his sleep yet. I bet his only saving grace was that he did his job well.
“Jade’s really gone?”
I nodded and cleared my throat. He’d been beating around the bush since he’d gotten in the car and I’d known sooner or later he’d ask. I'd hoped he'd figure out I didn’t want to talk about it.
“Yeah.”
He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “She’s pulled this shit before. She’ll be back.”
“Not this time.”
She didn’t have a choice. Sick of her diva behavior and complete disregard for the rules, the same policies I’d put in place to protect all my employees, I’d reached my breaking point and shown her the door. She’d barely made it to the parking lot before I’d changed her code and removed her name from everything.
Jade had a loyal fan base, and with her gone, I might lose business. She certainly thought I’d lose all of her regulars and had no problem screaming it for the world to hear as I’d escorted her from the studio. The idea didn't bother me. I didn’t want the kind of clients she apparently attracted.
Any customers that had booked Jade had been given a full refund without the option of substituting anyone else in her spot. If they wanted to call me and schedule another dancer for another time, they were welcome to try. Until then, I refused to send one of my girls into a situation where she couldn’t please anyone and was possibly at risk.
The rest of my entertainers followed the rules happily. They weren’t prostitutes and none of them wanted to be. We sold the illusion of sex, not the act itself, and they made plenty of money without putting themselves into dangerous situations.
No. Jade was gone. I was done with her shit. She wasn’t coming back this time.
“Tell me about the new girl.”
“I don’t know anything to tell you.”
“What’s her name?” He probed.
I hesitated. If Cady wanted him to have her real name, she’d give it to him. Otherwise, he’d never get it because I didn’t give out that information. I told my security detail just the basics – the things they needed to know in order to keep their mark safe. Everything else they learned had to come from their partner.
Most of my teams had grown close. Violet and Reid, for instance, acted like siblings; they were best friends one day and fighting the next. Drake and Peaches had become inseparable and shared an apartment with Drake’s boyfriend. Livie had been exclusively mine until she left, and even now, I still answered the phone when she called. That bond didn’t die just because one of us left the company.
Not every pair had gotten along so well. Tobias and Myra had never agreed on anything, but they put their shit aside while they were at work. Now Toby was gone and I worked with Myra until I could hire another guy.
I didn’t look forward to going to work every weekend like I had with Liv, but I didn’t dread it either. Myra didn’t make me miserable and I didn’t get involved in her personal life. It was a tolerable match.
Grover and Jade had never found common ground, so it was no surprise he wasn’t upset. With Jade gone, Grove would be tasked to watch Cady’s back. Over the next few months the two of them would learn how to read each other and hopefully become friends. It wasn’t necessary, but I found it easier if you didn’t hate the person you were trying to keep safe, and a fuck ton better if she didn’t hate you. No matter how much a woman thought she could hide that shit, her feelings were never subtle. And when one of my dancers didn’t like her security, it made life hell for everyone involved.
“Come on, Rome,” Grove practically whined. “I’m not asking for her blood work results. I just want her name. At least tell me that.”
I pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Call Randy.”
Seconds later the line connected. My manager picked up on the second ring. “Something wrong at the venue?”
“We’re not there yet. You’re on speaker and I have Grover with me.” He’d understand and wouldn’t say anything the other man shouldn’t hear. “How are things with the new girl?”
“Good.”
I hadn’t expected more. Randy was a man of few words.
“Grove wants to know what her stage name is.”
“She doesn’t have one yet.”
Usually the girls had one picked out before I’d even hired them.
“She goes on in two days,” Grover tossed out. “She needs a name.”
“Obviously,” Randy sounded bored. “Other things have been more important.”
Other things could mean anything from wardrobe malfunctions to dancer attitude to a major problem with the routine. He hadn’t alerted me to any
issues and I trusted him enough to know when he’d reached his limit. Whatever it was, he had it under control.
I offered help anyway. “Anything I can do?”
“No.”
“Has she narrowed it down to a few choices?” Grove asked, not taking the hint. “We can help pick.”
“You wanna chose her name? Without meeting her?” I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “I’ll stop by tonight once I get back into town,” I told Randy. “We’ll go over everything then.”
“I’ll be here.” He hung up without saying goodbye.
Grove sat silent as I took our exit and then made another right onto the old highway. A small town flew by in a blink, one without as much as a stoplight. I hated it out here as much as I loved it.
“I swear we’ve been here before,” Grove mused. He perked up a bit. “This is –”
“Yeah,” I interrupted.
“The inn or somewhere else?”
“The Inn.”
“Richie-rich cousins again?”
I nodded. While Grove had the connection to the frat boys who tossed a bunch of money at my girls over the course of the school year, I had my cousins and uncles who paid a fuck-ton to insure they had a good time while they got the discretion they needed.
“No shit. How big is the guest list?”
“He said fifteen. Which means at least twenty.” I slowed and turned onto a paved private drive. Large buildings appeared, looming over a gorgeous estate. Being there made an old, forgotten, homesick longing settle deep in my gut.
Grove whistled. “Not too shabby.”
A major understatement.
My grandparent’s country getaway had an equestrian facility, guest homes, staff quarters, a private pond, and two pools that overlooked forty-seven acres of rolling hills that kissed the Atlantic Ocean. It was an estate that belonged on the set of some Hollywood saga or in deep south cotton territory, not in the middle of nowhere Maine. It was a rare treasure that would always be home to me.
Once my grandfather had decided to retire and not rerun for his senate seat, Grannie had convinced him to move there permanently and turn their weekend home into an inn. They’d been extremely successful. People came from all over the country to spend a few thousand for a weekend in the great Senator Angus MacGregor’s home.