by Carina Adams
I laughed. Then slapped my hand over my mouth, horrified. He needed to know I took this seriously.
He didn’t scold and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It is kinda funny.” He shrugged. “But, it sure as hell isn’t sexy. I can’t see your moves because I can’t stop looking at your face.”
“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you could see it when you dance, you’d know it wasn’t a compliment.”
“So, how do I stop making faces?”
“For starters, you change into clothes you actually like. You can work in your costumes tomorrow. Then, get water and a snack. It’s gonna be a long fucking night.”
“You’re going to help me?” The disbelief in my voice clear.
Roman scowled at the question. He opened his mouth and then closed it again before glancing around the room. His forehead was still wrinkled when he met my eyes. “That’s my job.”
I didn’t understand. “I thought the girls—,”
“They worked routines with you. Taught you the basics. Now we,” he motioned between the two of us, “do the rest.”
“You’re not gonna fire me?”
The expression on his face told me he thought I was insane. “Why in the fuck would I fire you?”
I only raised my eyebrows. I didn’t need to explain and he wasn’t that stupid.
The bastard laughed. Actually laughed. It was a great sound and I liked it. For a brief moment, he didn’t look like he hated everyone and everything.
“Listen, Ruffles,” the condescending tone made me straighten my back, “I’m not going to fire you because you can’t dance for shit or because you look like you’re in pain. Those things can be fixed with training. Right now, though, you’re wasting my time. That pisses me off. I might fire you for that. So, move your ass.”
I held in an annoyed growl as I hurried from the room. For a brief moment I’d thought I’d been wrong about him. I hadn't been.
“Ruffles!” He barked before I made it too far. “Put on some fucking shoes while you’re at it. You’re a dancer now. You need to protect your feet.”
I rolled my eyes. He’d been right about one thing. It was going to be a long night.
Seven
Reid
“Hello, handsome,” Violet’s surprised voice greeted me as soon as I stepped into Soiree.
“Well, hello, gorgeous,” I replied with a grin. I nodded to the others before I pulled my friend into my side and pushed my lips against her temple.
“What are you doing here?” She leaned her head against my shoulder and wrapped her arms around my waist.
“Meeting with the boss-man. He demanded my presence.” Her eyebrows rose at my snide tone, but she didn’t comment. “What are you all doing?” It wasn’t unusual for the lights in the studio to burn until dawn, or for me to find dancers there late into the night, but I’d never seen them all sitting around, looking bored.
“Waiting,” Glitters groaned from her spot against the window frame, glaring out into the black abyss, her shoulders tense.
I’d wanted to ignore her, but since she’d answered for the group, I turned my attention Livie’s way and asked curiously, “When’d you get back?”
“I’m not.”
Okay, then. “What are we waiting for?”
“Rome. He’s meeting with the new girl and we’re all waiting to see what he says,” Violet explained.
Ah, yes. The new girl. Cady something or other. Roman hadn’t said much about her other than he’d owed Glitters and knew he’d ‘regret hiring’ her. I didn’t know why he owed Glitters anything, or why he’d follow through with it even if he had, but I was curious about our new addition to say the least.
No one had said much about Cady. In fact, the only things I’d heard about her were the bits Vi had shared over the last few days and all of them were positive. If Violet liked her, I had no doubt I’d like her, but it wasn’t me we had to worry about.
She was set to be Grover’s new partner. I liked him, he was good at his job, but he was young and could be extremely annoying. He needed to be teamed up with someone who could overlook that and take him with a grain of salt.
I’d been lucky. When Rome and I had made the decision to create permanent teams and pair each of our dancers with one bodyguard instead of trying to work out the schedule every week, I’d been matched with Violet. It was like hitting the jackpot.
We listened to the same music, laughed at the same stupid shit, and enjoyed the same foods. I was in law school and she was enrolled in a grad program at a local college, so we even had similar schedules. Eventually, we’d grown to be more than work friends and were together so much people assumed we were dating.
Soiree didn’t have as many employee policies as some of our competitors did, but we were strict about the ones we had in place. Some—drug use, solicitation, or violence—called for immediate termination. Others, like a sexual relationship with your partner, might not get you fired, but you’d never be paired with that person again.
Even if sex hadn’t been against the rules, it wasn’t a line either of us would ever cross. Violet was hot as fuck, and I loved her, but there was no attraction. The much needed spark was missing.
We made a great team and I trusted her above anyone else, including Roman. He’d been my friend since we were eight, so that said something about Vi. She'd never hurt me on purpose or pull half the crap he did.
“How long have they been back there?”
Before anyone could answer, the door to the studio opened and Rome strode out, pausing to point at Vi and me. “You two, office. Now.”
Violet grumbled under her breath as he walked away, but I chuckled humorlessly. Roman had the people skills of a gnat. He’d never grasped the fact that people would rather be asked than commanded. We all followed along dutifully every time he snapped his fingers, so why would he?
Vi perched on the edge of the desk while I settled into an antique wingback by the window and rested an ankle on my knee. “What was so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”
Roman poured himself a cup of coffee from Randy’s always ready pot and sat across from me in a matching chair. “I need you two Saturday night. The party is bigger than expected.”
“You told me that earlier.”
“I need to swap teams around.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Explain.”
“Cady goes to UCM. We can’t put her with Grover.”
That was a dilemma, but not big enough to call both Violet and me in. “Switch Drake and Grover for this weekend. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
“I’m moving everyone, redoing the teams, until we can hire more security.” He took a long sip of java, to fuck with my patience, no doubt. “Drake and Myra. Grover and Peaches. You and Ruffles. I’ll take Violet.”
“The hell you will.”
“It’s the only way this will work.”
“You don’t need to move everyone around to accommodate one woman. Send Grove with Peaches and bring Drake with us. End of story.”
“I can’t move just two teams.”
“You can.” I opened and closed my hand, the itch to hit the smug son of a bitch in front of me almost too strong to ignore.
Violet had been painfully quiet, but finally broke tense silence. “Peaches is scheduled for a bachelor party. Grover can’t handle that. Only Drake can.”
She had a good fucking point. I nodded. “Send Drake with Peaches. Give Grover the weekend off. You and I’ll handle your cousin’s.”
Rome nodded thoughtfully. “It might work.”
“It will.”
“It’ll work this week,” he argued back. “I need you with the new girl going forward.”
I looked at Violet, but her face gave nothing away. I didn’t want to work with anyone else. “There has to be another option.”
“There’s not.”
“Bring Toby back.”
“I’m trying. It won’t happen in the next two days.”
“Then hire someone else right now and work shit out. Our system works well the way it is.”
“It’s not that simple.”
I cracked my jaw. I could argue with him for hours and he still wouldn’t budge. I pushed myself out of the chair. I didn’t care if he had more to discuss, I was done. “Do whatever you have to do. You will anyway.”
Neither one tried to stop me.
Violet tried to pull me out of my shitty mood the entire ride north Saturday afternoon. Typically, the dancers and security rode together, but since there were five of us, I’d insisted Vi and I take my truck alone. I still hadn’t had the balls to face the fact that we were headed to our last gig as a team, or that fucking Roman, of all people, was taking over for me.
I held out hope that he’d see the error of his ways and change his mind.
“Okay,” my friend finally said with a sigh as she sunk back into her seat, “when was the last time you got laid?”
“The blonde from the bar two weekends ago.”
“She was hot.”
“Yeah, she was.” I smirked. “And up for anything.”
“One, ew. Over share.” She shuddered. “Two, that wasn’t that long ago. Why in the hell are you in such a bad mood?”
“Roman.”
“Of course. When is he moving out so you can have some peace?”
I didn’t know. After he and Brooke had split, I’d offered him his old room temporarily, until he got back on his feet. It wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution.
It shouldn’t have been such a big deal to have him there. We’d lived together all through undergrad. He’d even helped me pick out the little ranch I'd bought not long after we’d started Soiree. Then again, once upon a time Roman MacGregor had been the most important person in my world.
Until Brooke. Things had changed quickly between us after they got engaged, but I’d been determined not to lose my oldest friend. I’d assumed he’d come back at some point, so I did whatever it took to stay in his life.
I was still waiting. Half the time I couldn’t remember why we’d ever been friends. The rest I missed the man he’d been.
Desperate for a subject change, I asked about the new girl.
“She’s so nervous. I remember being that scared the first time I did a private party. Somehow, you made it all okay.”
I smiled at the distant memory. We’d been kids, working for another company, but even then we’d been a great team. “I was afraid you were going to bolt and leave me there with a bunch of overweight middle-aged drunk men.”
“You could have danced for them.”
“They weren’t my kinda crowd. The tips would have been shit.”
She snorted. “Have you met her? Ruffles, I mean?”
I hadn’t. I’d left the other night before I’d had the chance, too pissed at Roman to stay any longer. “Not yet.”
“You’re going to love her. She’s so different than the rest of us.”
“Different how?”
She took a deep breath, the way she did when she was preparing to launch into a long explanation and sighed. “You’ll see.”
I glanced in her direction and waited for more details, but she shrugged.
“You should find her before the show and give her the same advice you gave me.”
“To wash the glitter off as fast as she can because that shit chafes like a mother and she doesn’t want it stuck in her cracks? Baby powder is her best friend, but she should make sure it’s cornstarch based? Not to skimp on the personal primping and pay someone to wax for you ‘cause doing it yourself is like water torture—and you always miss some?”
“No. But, that is solid advice.” Vi’s laughter filled the cab of my truck. “The spiel about how you’ll always have her back. No matter what, she’s safe. If she’s scared, you’ll swoop in and rescue her. She’s there to dance and have fun. You’re there to do the rest.”
“Ah, yes. The bullshit.”
She slapped my arm. “It’s not. You’re like our own knight in shining armor.”
“Yeah? If your knight drives a piece of shit Chevy held together with duct tape, smokes like a chimney, spends the majority of his time with his nose stuck in a text book and the rest of it around women wearing pasties, I can see why you’re still single.”
“Wow,” she mused. “Is that what your dating profile says? Because I can't figure out how anyone could resist a description like that.”
“Neither can I. Sadly, I’m still waiting for Mystery Right.”
“You forgot to include ‘hung up on my ex’. That’s a sure hit.”
“I’m over Jen.”
“I never said Jen,” she didn’t miss a beat.
I huffed. “I’m over all my exes.”
“Sure,” she wasn’t convinced. “Don’t forget, the turn is up here.”
We both knew I’d made the drive so many times I could do it in my sleep, but I let her change the subject. I hated that she knew me so well yet wouldn’t believe I was over my first love. Water under the bridge. I’d moved on.
“Holy shit.” She breathed as we pulled into the courtyard of the Inn. “Andy’s parties are never this big. Did you know there were going to be so many people?”
Andy had said a maximum of fifty, but I should have expected more. The asshole always did this shit to us. If we had trouble, I’d kick his scrawny ass, favorite cousin or not.
“No.” I parked next to a classic Rolls Royce and wondered how old the men inside were. Maybe we’d luck out and they’d be old enough to tip well and not cunts driving their daddy’s cars. “Even more surprising is that all these people are here to celebrate Alastair’s birthday.”
“Alastair?”
“I know. I can’t believe this many people want to be around him.”
“Ruffles is going to freak out.” Violet’s voice wavered, her nervousness clear. “I mean, when she realizes how many people must be here.” She cleared her throat.
Clearly the new girl wasn’t the only one worried.
“Hey, you know this crowd. You’ve got this. Let’s get you to the others so y’all can get ready. I’ll make sure everything inside is set.”
I lifted her bag out of the bed of my truck, tucked her little body into mine and turned us toward the guest house. I’d spent enough time at his grandparent’s when Rome and I were younger that I had a memory at every corner and could walk the estate with my eyes closed.
I should have hated the entire fucking place. I didn’t. But, I sure as hell wanted to.
Once Vi was inside, the door closed safely behind her to deter prying eyes, I strode toward the back deck and the solarium, in a hurry to see what we were dealing with.
The doors were open and men milled around the space, tumblers in hand, as they talked quietly. They looked like a calm group, all dressed in the casual uniform of their secret socialite society – ugly polo’s and designer jeans that cost more than my truck. They looked harmless, but this bunch could turn rowdy in an instant. Put a gaggle of hedge fund managers, trust fund twats, and political pussies in a room with unlimited whiskey and mostly naked women and it could equal disaster.
I wandered around, keeping an eye out for anyone who looked like they’d had too much to drink, or anyone who set my spidey senses off. When nothing worrisome popped up, I settled into a quiet, out of the way section, and waited for Andy to appear.
“Never thought I’d see you here again.”
I didn’t need to turn around to know who had joined me. His presence alone poisoned my air. Alastair the anal retentive wretch. I hated the fucker.
“And I was hoping I’d never see you again, period. Pennywise finally retracted her claws and let you crawl out of the sewer without her, huh?”
“She had her teeth fixed years ago,” he snapped, and it took everything in me not to snort. The ass was as easy to rile now as he’d been when were were kids. May
be he’d go away if I ignored him long enough.
“I didn’t have high expectations when I heard my idiotic brother was throwing me this ridiculous party, but I’d hoped it was going to be low-key. Then I found out he’d hired Roman’s prostitutes and assumed things couldn’t get any worse. Now, here you are.”
“Oh, it can always get worse.” I mused. He was lucky I hadn’t knocked his ass out when he’d insulted the girls, but if he did it again he’d spend his birthday in the emergency room or police station—I didn’t have a preference.
“I doubt that. I’d say we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel with you here, but you never know.”
“Wait until you go into the kitchen and find that Andy replaced all of your beloved Michter’s with Fighting Cock.”
I expected him to run off and check for hidden bottles, maybe start sniffing the decanters like the little bitch he was. Instead, he lifted his glass to his lips and took a long sip. “I’m surprised you know anything about bourbon. I took you for a light beer guy. No,” I watched him shake his head out of my peripheral, “wine coolers, right?”
“A love of whiskey was just one of the many lessons Angus taught Roman, Andy, and me. He always said he wanted at least one of his grandsons’ to learn how to enjoy the finer things in life and appreciate everything else. Seems his heir had turned into a wee scunner,” I grinned as I spoke in a perfected accent and thought about the old Scott and the creative cuss words he’d taught us.
“My grandfather,” Alastair ground out, “lost his mind in his old age. The things he says and does are an embarrassment to this family.”
“You, maybe. Not the rest of the family. He may be old, but he’s brilliant.”
“Says the man who dropped out of law school to babysit hookers.”
“Nah,” ice ran through my veins but I tried to keep my face neutral as I turned to face him. “I quit school to become an escort, remember? Say what you want, but I made a fuck ton of money and didn’t need my daddy to bail me out or pay my debts.”