Ruffles & Beaus

by Carina Adams

  “Wow.” She sounded genuinely offended. “Say whatever you want. I love my job. I’m not the one who is so miserable he has to hide away and tear down an old friend to make himself feel better. If you’re that unhappy, walk away. Come home.”

  “Is that what you think?” I goaded. “I’m happy. Fucking blissful, really. I have friends. I’m marrying a beautiful woman. I have a great job—one I earned. I didn’t have to fuck my boss to move up because I didn’t lack the natural talent all other dancers have.”

  “Fuck you.” Her voice was so cold it almost burned me. “I changed my mind. I think you and Brooke will be extremely happy together. Clearly, you deserve each other.”

  “Did you ever love me? Did you just use me to get what you wanted? Cause you got it, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know if it’s the booze talking, or if you really believe the shit you’re spewing right now, but I can’t do this with you. Go sleep it off.”

  “I love you.”

  “Christ, Roman.”

  “Don’t do the show.” I muttered. “Cancel.”

  “You want me to cancel the Whiskey Girls show?”

  I nodded not caring that she couldn’t see me. “As your boss, I demand it.”

  She laughed bitterly. “You’re not my boss. You don’t have a damn say about anything I do anymore.”

  “Fine,” I yelled. “I’ll shut you down on this end.”

  “Try it.” Her calm tone threw me. “I’m the one with the entertainment lawyer on her side and an airtight contract. Try to screw with me, or with this show, and Sway will be out of business within a month.”

  “When did you turn into such a bitter bitch?”

  “You know what they say. Behind every bitch is a man who made her that way. Congratulations on your wedding.”

  “Don’t do this, Cady.” I called, voice full of desperation. “Please don’t do this show.”

  “Why? Are my girls in danger? Is there something you haven’t told us? Give me one good reason we should cancel.”

  “I can’t be there. I’ve always had your back. Don’t do this without me.”

  “Some things aren’t about you. Good night, Roman.”

  She hung up before I could apologize.

  I sat in a small room on the side of the sanctuary and listened to my groomsmen talk and joke. I didn’t feel like joining in. Either Brooke was going to get scared and run, or she wasn’t and we were really getting married. I didn’t know which scenario was worse.

  I didn’t know what in the hell had happened to my life. It felt like all the good in it had disappeared the moment I’d left Soiree. I worked more than I ever had before. I rarely talked to Reid. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed.

  I didn’t look up when I heard the knock. People had been coming and going regularly over the last half hour. I didn’t care about any of them.

  “Gentleman,” my best friend called as he stepped through the door, “can we have the room for a few minutes?”

  My cousins got up, some clapped me on the back, some shook Reid’s hand, and one by one, they left.

  I stood as he closed the door and gave him a manly hug, complete with the obnoxious back slap. Our friendship had been strained over the last few months, but I missed my best friend.

  He smiled at me. “How you feeling? Nerves set in yet?”

  “I’m nervous as hell.”

  “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

  “Go ahead. Get your Brooke jokes out now. I don’t want to hear them once we’re married.”

  “But, after the divorce it’ll be okay, right?”

  I tossed an empty soda bottle at his head. The ass. “That’s all you’ve got?”

  “Right now. They’ll be more later. I’ll try to write ‘em down.”

  I sat down in a chair by the window. “I didn’t think you’d make it.” No. I’d been worried he wasn’t going to come, especially after he’d skipped the bachelor party.

  “It’s your wedding day. You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “I always thought you’d be my best man. It’s weird you’re not.”

  He shrugged and walked to the stand where my boutonniere was lying. “What’s a best man do that I haven’t?”

  “Plan my bachelor party.”

  He grinned. “Guilty.”

  “I should have known you were behind it.”

  “Masquerade night at Sway? Please.” He scoffed. “Andy would have hired Soiree and had a party at the Inn. Or gone to the pub and played darts. Neither of those would do. Sway was the one place Brooke and her posse of evil hags wouldn’t invade. It’s tainted, or some shit.”

  “Oh.” I dragged out the word. “I didn’t think of that.”

  He grinned. “What else does a best man do?”

  “Write a speech for the reception.”

  He tugged a piece of paper from his breast pocket and shook it open. “It’s a tear jerker.”

  I shook my head. “Then, I guess that’s it.”

  “See? I’m still your best man, even if I can’t bring myself to be in the wedding.”

  “Is Cady coming…,” I drifted off.

  I didn’t know if I wanted the answer. They’d both been invited, of course, and Brooke had even sent Cady a designer dress to wear. Honorary bridesmaid, or some shit. I knew it was meant as an insult—like Cady couldn’t be trusted to pick out her own dress.

  He shook his head. “She’s at Sway. She couldn’t chance it. She was worried about the traffic.”

  I didn’t know if he was lying to me, or if she’d lied to him. Her not showing up for my wedding had nothing to do with traffic or the time of the two events. She wasn’t going to show up because she didn’t want to watch me marry Brooke. That, and from what I could remember from our phone call two nights before, she had every right to be upset with me.

  “You should be there with her, not here with me. This is just a silly wedding. One that Brooke’s probably going to cancel at the last minute. Cady has s a sold out show. Girlfriend’s take priority.”

  He read between the lines just fine. “She’s got a great group of security in place, should she need it. She told me to come because you’d need the support more than she did.” He sat down on the couch. “I always thought it would be an ego boost to have two people fight over me. Next time I’ll hope they’re fighting because they want me around instead of trying to pawn me off onto the other.”

  I laughed. “That’s not what’s happening. You’re lucky we’re not fighting over you. If we hated each other, we would. Truth is, we don’t hate each other and we’re each doing something today we’d never thought we’d do. I know that she’s nervous as hell right now.” I glanced at my watch. “She’s probably pacing in her dressing room, trying to convince herself she’s not going to fall on her face. You calm her down. You should go to her.”

  “Funny, she said something very similar. Although hers was more, ‘if anyone can talk him out of doing something this crazy, it’s you’.” He laughed. “So, here I am. I’ll be in the pew with your parents, supporting you. Then, I’ll give my speech. And head over to cheer as dances her ass off.”

  “Shouldn’t girlfriend trump best friend? Especially when she’s headlining a major, sold out show?”

  “Maybe,” he shrugged. “But best friend trumps most. And since Cady and I aren’t a couple, and I consider you both my best friends, and wedding is a once in a lifetime event, you’re stuck with me. Get over it. If I’m boring you, I can bring the cousins back in.”

  I sat forward, arms braced on my thighs. “Cady and you aren’t a couple?” I tried to keep my voice even, but the news shocked the shit out of me. I talked to Cady frequently for wok and Reid whenever I could. “Since when?”

  He frowned, as if he actually had to think about it. The prick knew when they’d broken up. “Four months ago.”

  I glared. That wasn’t long after they’d gotten together. I’d never suspected
they weren’t still. No one had said a damn word to me about it. “Why?”

  “You’re about to marry someone else. Don’t do that shit to yourself.”

  “Why aren’t you together?” I needed to know.

  He sighed. “I love Cady. And she loves me. That was never a problem. But, that day in the hotel room when you asked me if I loved her more than I loved you, we made the decision without all the information.”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “We never asked her what she wanted.” He stood and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. “And that fucked us. Because she doesn’t love me more than she loved you. Because at the end of the day, she will always pick you.”

  I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”

  “No. When you announced your engagement, it broke her heart. And I realized in that moment that, while I love her, it wasn’t more than what I felt for you. Because it broke mine, too. Cady would always be second best, and that’s not fair. So, we’re best friends in love with the same man. We commiserate on how much we miss you. And how much we hate you. And how it doesn’t seem fair you’re marrying the hag from hell and not one of us.”

  All I could do was stare at him, open mouthed, in shock. “Why in the hell didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Because it had to be your choice,” my grandfather supplied. I’d forgotten he’d been lying down on the sofa in other half of the room and had probably heard every word we’d said, the nosey old coot. “Roman, women need to know that you make decisions of the heart because you want to. Not because you were doing what was. Women need to be wanted. They need to be desired. And they need to be first.”

  “I do want her, but I also want to do the right thing.”

  “What makes you think marrying Brooke is the right thing?”

  I had no idea. I shook my head.

  “Then why in the hell are you still here?”

  “I have three hundred guests who are waiting. I have responsibilities to Brooke, to my family. I ha—,”

  “A woman you love waiting on you. Go. Before it’s too late,” the MacGregor insisted. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “That’s not who I am.”

  “Last time all these people were in town, Brooke bailed. Half of them expect her to run again. It’ll be good to keep ‘em on their toes, surprise ‘em when it’s you instead.” He grabbed my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’ve seen you together. I get it. Go.”

  He let go and walked to the door. “Why are you still here?”

  “What time does the show at Sway start?”

  Reid looked down at his phone. “Thirty-five minutes.”

  “Then you two better get the lead out.” He pulled open the door just as the shrieking started. Brooke was yelling at someone about the flowers.

  “I’ll give you a ten-minute head start. Then I’m telling the Banshee,” he said with a devilish grin. “If you’re still here, your guests will get a different kind of show.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Cady

  In most books and movies, the back half of a strip club was a dingy, dark, and dirty place with pint sized dressing rooms off creepy halls. Entertainers were paid to shake their ass, smile pretty, and keep their mouth shut. They were made to feel lucky they had a safe space to change out of their costumes and thought clean water to wipe the stage grime from their bodies was a bonus they didn’t deserve.

  I glanced around the cheerful area one more time, amazed by the drastic difference between reality and fiction. Once upon a time, someone had painted a picture of what they thought women like me deserved and while it wasn’t hard to see how little they thought of us, I didn’t hold a grudge. It was the others, the ones who jumped on the bandwagon blindly without even trying to seek truth, that bothered me. They should be ashamed.

  Whomever had designed my space knew what they were doing. I felt like a famous A-list movie star waiting in her private trailer between takes, not a dirty little secret. To someone who didn’t know me, it looked like I had everything I needed. A quick glance around the room and you’d think I was all set to put on one hell of a show.

  It couldn't have been further from the truth. A major piece of me, one I’d had at every performance so far, my security blanket, was missing. My fingertips tightened over the arms of the chair, manicured nails sinking into the faded padding, as I tried to keep the panic at bay.

  I’d told Reid to go. He’d been a nervous wreck. He’d needed to go be with Roman, for both our sakes. However, I hadn’t thought it through.

  I couldn’t go out there without him. I couldn’t cancel. I didn’t know what to do.

  I didn’t need to go out front to know everything was ready but me. Hundreds of anxious men—and few dozen excited women—sat scattered around the open space. For them, it was business as usual, just another night in the most visited burlesque club in Boston.

  It was anything but a normal evening, though. The Whiskey Girls—Ruffles McGee, Madam Sparkles, Peaches Anne Cream, Violet Tendencies, and Glitters Galore—were about to make their large venue debut. For one night, and one night only, the most sought after private party entertainers in New England were going big.

  What the people in the other room didn’t know was that tonight would be my last dance. I’d agreed to perform back in October, before my life had fallen apart, and wouldn’t back out, no matter how much I wanted to. My friends and family depended on me and I refused to let them down.

  I didn’t want to be there, though. The nasty troll of self-doubt had reared her ugly head in an attempt to convince me I’d fail without at least one of the boys there. I’d ignored it, pushed it down.

  And clung to the knowledge that as soon as I stepped off the stage at the end of the night, I was done. It was time to put Ruffles McGee behind me.

  The knock on the door didn’t surprise me. I’d heard the applause from Peaches’ performance and knew it was only a matter of time before they came for me. I didn’t budge.

  Waves of nausea washed over me as I heard the shouts and wolf-whistles. I’d never performed in front of more than a few dozen people. And every time Reid had been there, hidden in the shadows as he and Roman watched my six.

  “Don’t do this, Cady.”

  Rome’s voice echoed in my mind, as clear as if he’d been there with me. My breath caught and my stomach knotted so tight my back ached, a cold sweat covered my skin, and I wondered if it could be him on the other side of the door, if he’d come for me after all.

  For a fleeting moment, a calmness I hadn’t experienced in weeks settled over me.

  Then, memories sprinted forward. The angry shouts, absurd accusations, and weak denials filled with half-truths from two nights before replayed in my mind. My heart ached again, just like it had on Christmas, the pain as tangible as if someone had reached into my chest and clutched the organ in an iron fist.

  I heard my name, followed by another, much louder and more aggressive knock, yet I couldn’t move. It wasn’t what I wanted to be called and it wasn’t from the voice I longed to hear.

  It shouldn't be like this.

  When the door opened, I glanced over, confused because I knew I’d locked the damn thing. My eyebrows rose at Francesca, my partner in crime, as she slapped a key against her palm. The agitation on her face melted away when she saw me.

  “Wow.”

  Frankie always stunned, but the way she looked would stop patrons in their tracks. The makeup was flawless, her adorable freckles completely hidden, and lips painted a sexy-as-sin shade of scarlet. The sleek midnight stacked bob wig highlighted her sharp cheekbones and made her seem dangerous, a force to be reckoned with.

  Six-inch red pleather stiletto thigh-highs covered shiny fishnets, clung to her legs and shaped them in a way that would make every single person in the main room want to reach out and touch her. Metallic midnight shorts peeked out from under a half-buttoned white long-sleeved dress shirt contoured to her slim body. Over it all, a black
thigh-length leather trench coat told the world she was badass, and almost dared people to mess with her.

  She was no longer my best friend, the one who lived in baggy athletic shorts and logoed tees. She was Madam Sparkles, an alter-ego who brought even the most powerful men to their knees. Fierce amethyst dragon-eyed contacts—worn to help conceal her identity—almost disappeared as she narrowed her eyes and scanned me.

  Emotion fleetingly warred on her face, as she tried to decide if she should scold or coddle. She did neither. “Wow, is right.”

  I dismissed the compliment with a wave. I looked as close to my real-self as she did, but I didn't need her to point it out. Randy had gone overboard with my makeup and applied it with a too heavy hand. The transformation ensured none of the guests would recognize me, which is what I usually wanted.

  I no longer cared if people figured out who I was. Only one man’s opinion mattered to me.

  “Did you see Roman?” I was too upset to hide the desperation in my voice. “Is Reid back, is he out there?”

  Apprehension crossed her face as she bit the inside of her cheek. “Cady,” she started slowly, her tone sad.

  She didn’t need to say more. I’d known it was a gamble when we’d I’d found out Roman’s wedding was the same night as the show, yet part of me had clung to the idea he would leave her, be there for me. My heart sank, the pain in my chest palpable once more. He really hadn’t come.

  He’d made his choice. It wasn’t me. To him I would never be anything more than a girl who took off her clothes for money. It didn’t matter how hypocritical that belief was, especially coming from him. He really didn’t want me.

  I’d expected more from him. That was the problem. I’d expected too much.

  “How in the hell am I supposed to go out there? How can I possibly do this without either one of them?”

  Frankie’s brow furrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest and considered my questions. “The same way you do everything else. You get up, put one foot in front of the other, and kick ass.”