The dark curtains slide open, revealing my back-lit silhouette. Staring out into the darkness, nausea roils my stomach as hints of my memory play in the back of my mind. I’m going to be sick.
4
Ellie
I swing my hips in time with the beat of the song, slowly inching toward the pole at the front of the stage. I pull on the loose bow holding my trench coat together, and it falls open. My body is in shadows, but the diamante of my costume glitters enticingly. As I shake my hips, dropping with the music, the fabric parts, revealing more and more. The coat slips down my shoulders, resting at the very top. I pause, waiting for the beat to rise: There it is.
Flinging off the trench coat, I leap toward the pole spinning around, moving my body into the Anastasia position, the coldness of the pole seeping into the skin of my thigh. My left shoulder burns as I hold myself up, and my body trembles at the phantom pains in my arm. Oh God. Please don’t let me fall.
“Go, Ellie!” Mia and Katie scream from their seats. Tossing my fedora to them, a small smile pulls at my lips as some of the tension melts away from my body, their love fueling me onwards.
I switch through positions as the song continues to pump loudly through the club, my movements becoming more fluid as muscle memory kicks in. I complete a cartwheel dismount as the next song begins to play, dropping into a sexy backslide and wink at the gorgeous men sitting next to my girls.
I continue to dance, spinning and dropping on the pole as if six years hadn’t passed, but the strain and ache in my muscles tells me otherwise. When the notes of the final song echo from the speakers, I perform a shoulder dismount into a backslide, my heart thumping loudly. I did it. I actually fucking did it.
Tears well in my eyes as I stare out into the dimly lit room, happiness, and adrenaline pumping wildly through my veins. My shaking legs barely hold me as I continue to crouch on the ground. Standing up, the hoots and hollers from around the room follow me as I hurry off the side of the stage.
“Girl, you were God damn incredible!” Chocolate Goddess bounces excitedly on her feet as she hands over a bottle of water. Greedily gulping it down, I take the towel from her outstretched hand, drying off the layer of sweat coating me like a second skin.
I lean against the back wall, my chest heaving, and allow the coolness of the concrete to press against my bare back. My legs are shaking weakly beneath me from the intensity of the workout, and I can already tell I’m going to regret all those years of inactivity tomorrow. The dressing room door opens, flooding the backstage area with light as Cynthia makes her way toward us, her face a mixture of surprise and awe, concealed by indifference.
“If I’d have known you were that good, I wouldn’t have been so hesitant about you performing.” Pursing her lips, she glares at me with her hands on her hips. Her fingers drum against her stomach and I blink back at her, not sure whether to take her words as a compliment or not.
Chocolate Goddess pushes her way past me to bump her hip against Cynthia’s with a cheeky smirk. “Don’t mind her. Her head has been so far up her butt for so long I think she’s forgotten what being nice is like.”
Cynthia rolls her eyes. Scrunching her nose, Chocolate turns back to me and offers her hand: “I’m Claire, by the way. I probably should have mentioned that earlier.”
I laugh and take her hand, scratching the back of my neck with the other. “I was actually calling you Chocolate Goddess in my head.”
Claire’s eyes brighten, but Cynthia groans. “Please don’t tell her that. She’ll be wanting to change her stage name now. Come on, you’re crowding the wings.”
Cynthia ushers us back into the dressing room and my skin tingles as the cold air sweeps across me. Cynthia hurls a towel in my direction and I catch it against my chest. Then she disappears out of the dressing room door.
Wiping the last of the sweat off my body, I eagerly pull on my wrap dress. As my eyes flick across the mirror, a surprised gasp escapes from my lips. Even though my curls are a mess and my face is glistening with sweat, my hazel eyes are glowing. I haven’t felt this happy or proud of myself in a long time.
Claire catches my eyes in the mirror. “Will you be sticking around for the night? I have another performance to do, but I’d love to catch up with you.”
“Actually, I’ll probably be here for a while, so come find me when you’re done,” I say, throwing the sweaty towel into a nearby hamper. “Maybe you can help me with my scavenger hunt.” I grin.
Claire quirks her eyebrows. “Intriguing. I’ll definitely come and find you later and you can tell me more… Especially if it involves those gorgeous treats your friends were sitting with.” She fans herself, swooning at the prospect of man candy.
I smirk, thinking back to the little I’d seen while I was on stage. The audience were shrouded in shadows for the most part, but I did catch the occasional glinting eye and bulging muscle. “I’m guessing it will. I was only on stage tonight because it’s one of my tasks.”
Claire beams. “So is this some kind of bridal party? Girl, are you hitched?” she bounces excitedly, looking down at my hands for evidence of a ring. But I hide them beneath the trench coat in my grasp and shake my head.
“No… nothing like that. My best friends have just decided my life needs a little… spice.” I attempt a smile and hope she doesn’t ask for any more detail. Luckily, she nods, narrowing her eyes mischievously.
“In that case, I’ll be your wing-woman. You can count me in. If anyone knows spice, it’s this Chocolate Goddess right here.” Crossing her heart, Claire nods her head, a devilish smile stretching across her face. Meanwhile, Cynthia reenters the room and audibly scoffs at the mention of Claire’s new nickname.
Laughing, I wave goodbye to Claire and the other women in the room, heading back to my friends who have officially relocated from the VIP section to the front booth with two, gorgeous specimens.
Seeing me first, Katie squeals, leaping hazardously over Mia and wrapping me in a vice-like hug. “Oh my gosh! You were incredible! I’m so proud of you.” She bounces up and down, her shrieking rattling my eardrums. Pulling away, she bulldozes me toward the table.
The two men gaze over my now clothed body and my cheeks flush at their heated perusal. With his disheveled, jet-black hair, slightly crooked nose and broad features set around caramel-colored eyes, the bulkier of the two is a textbook ‘bad boy’. But he is definitely all man.
Dragging my eyes away from him, heat burns its way through my body, my jaw dropping as my eyes roam over his friend. Shaggy blonde hair curls in wisps around his clean-shaven face and his gorgeous blue eyes shine with amusement and intelligence in the dim lighting. But the scars running down the right side of his face, disappearing under his collared shirt, spark my curiosity above all else; He’s a survivor—just like me.
“Ellie, these are our new friends.” Katie points toward the bad boy in the booth next to Mia. “This is Ryan. And the guy next to you is Gabe. They came here to celebrate Ryan’s birthday! Isn’t that amazing?” Katie falls onto one of the chairs, bouncing happily in her seat. Drunken Katie is the equivalent of an extra-peppy, cheerleader—nothing gets her down.
“Sweetheart, you have some amazing moves. If you ever want to practice, you are more than welcome to come hit me up.” Ryan winks up at me, and my face burns with embarrassment.
“Don’t mind him, darlin’. He wouldn’t know what to do with a beautiful woman like yourself.” Smiling warmly, Gabe pours a shot of whiskey, sliding it toward me.
Taking the glass, I down the nip in one go, letting the alcohol burn a path down my throat into my stomach. Ugh. Southern accents should be banned. There’s nothing sexier than a shirtless cowboy wearing a stetson. Maybe that’s what my book needs? A shirtless, growly Texan to spice things up. I wonder… Armed with liquid courage, a slow smile pulls at my lips as I eye Gabe from head to toe.
“Gabe, would you mind helping me with something?” Placing my hand on his arm, I stare into his eyes, muste
ring what I hope is a sultry look as I slide into the seat next to him. “I have a scavenger hunt to complete and was wondering if you could help me with my next task?”
Gabe sits forward, meeting my gaze with equal intensity. “What do you need, sugar?”
Mia, not missing a beat, pulls out the list and thrusts it at Gabe who takes it warily from her eager hands. Reading the list, he eyes me over the top occasionally. Lord, save my soul.
Raising his eyebrows at me, Gabe sets the list down on the table, his eyes shining with disbelief and curiosity—and maybe a little trouble. “So which of these splendid tasks can I help you with?”
The tasks on the list between us blur together into a mound of indistinguishable letters. Shaking my head, I read over it once again, my eyes lingering on one word with so many possibilities—abs. I wonder if he would act out my cowboy fantasy. Sweaty, naked chest, low riding Levi’s, his hair tousled and un-kept while he rides a horse, or tosses hay bales onto a truck. Taking a napkin, I fan myself, the room heating right along with my… imagination.
Pausing, I huff out a laugh as my old fantasy catches me by surprise. When was the last time I thought about that?
I pour myself and Gabe another shot of whiskey and am mesmerized as he throws his head back and downs the drink. His Adam’s apple bobs as his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. His tongue flicks out as he licks his plump lips. He’s too attractive for his own good. And maybe that’s just what I need.
As if reading my thoughts, Gabe lowers his head, his hooded eyes piercing through me, sending shivers down my spine.
“I want to touch your abs!” Please tell me I didn’t just say that? Groaning, I cover my face with my hands, my cheeks burning hotly against them.
Ryan, Mia, and Katie snicker, their hoots and hollers drawing my head from its resting place on the table as they hi-five each other.
“Take it off, big boy! Show us what you’ve got.” Mia purrs, drunkenly pointing toward Gabe’s stomach. “And maybe take off those jeans while you’re at it. Is it true what they say? Everything is bigger down south?” Her eyes shine with a wicked glint as they rake over his body.
And this is why I will die from embarrassment, but at the same time I’m thankful for Mia taking the focus off me. Shaking my head, I turn to Gabe, ready to tell him to forget about Mia, but my breath catches in my throat as he tosses his shirt to me. Sweet baby Jesus. I must have died because there’s no way a man can look this delectable.
His scars run down the length of his body, emphasizing the contours of his broad, muscular chest, and disappear under the waistband of his boxers that protrudes an inch over his jeans. His hands move down, drawing my attention to his chiseled six-pack, and the dusting of hair trailing down toward his impressive… thighs. Screw this. I’m changing my fantasy—Naked. Stetson. Boots.
“Man, I swear if you so much as unbutton your jeans, I’m never letting you into my club again. Or near my sisters.” Nic frowns, plopping another bottle of whiskey onto the table.
Have we really gone through the first bottle already? Looking around the table, I spot the empty Jameson bottle amongst the crowd of drained beers.
Seeing me looking, Nic leans down and ruffles my hair. “It’s on the house, Ellie-bear. You were fucking incredible.” Cracking open the bottle and pouring two shots—one for him and one for me—he continues: “We’ve even had a few patrons ask if you’ll be coming back.”
Now that the exhilaration and adrenaline has worn off, fear gnaws on my newly gained confidence, adding doubt and anxiety to the mix. I loved being on stage again. I loved the nerves, and the rush, and the sore muscles. But would I do it all again?
“Same rules apply from earlier, Nic. Free whiskey for life. And not the shitty kind either.”
Nic rolls his eyes and picks up the freshly opened bottle. “After all these years, Ellie, you still doubt that I’d hook you up with shitty whiskey? Please.”
“What? No!” I reach out and grasp his sleeves as he attempts to leave. “You are the whiskey God! I will never doubt you again…” My eyes flick to the bottle he still grasps in his hand, then back to his eyes. “Please give me back that bottle.”
He raises an eyebrow at me but swings it back in my direction. “Still an idiot.”
“Still a douchebag,” I smile, taking it and setting it down.
Katie and Mia laugh heartily at our exchange, having been witnesses to many of our arguments over the years. Ryan and Gabe sit still, their brows furrowing as their eyes glance between us, probably unsure whether we’re siblings, friends, or lovers.
“So what are you doing with these assholes? They aren’t good for you.” Nic gestures to Gabe, then Ryan—who flips him the bird. His gaze passes over Mia and me, before settling on Katie—and Ryan’s hand lingering dangerously near her thigh. Jealousy flares in his eyes.
Mia takes a long sip of her drink, shooting an icy glare at her brother as she swallows. “They were kind enough to let us sit here so that we could see Ellie better, and apparently they’re your friends. Why haven’t we met them before?”
Nic crosses his arms. “We served together. They’re a bunch of perverted assholes, and no good for you.” Glancing between Mia and myself, his eyes return to Katie, who blushes wide-eyed under his stare. “Any of you.”
Mia flicks her knowing eyes back and forth between the two, smirking over the rim of her cup. No one has ever lived up to her expectations or come close to being her dream guy, which is one of the downsides of working with romance authors. Sometimes fiction is better than reality.
Katie stumbles on her words, her face flushing a deep shade of pink. “They were just agreeing to help Ellie with her scavenger hunt list. We weren’t… I wasn’t…”
“Come on, man. You know us. We aren’t bad guys… Unless you want us to be?” Ryan winks at the three of us, grinning wider at the piercing glare Nic shoots his way.
“Just stay away from Ellie and Katie. They don’t need your bullshit in their lives.”
“What the hell? What about me?”
Raising his eyebrow at his sister, Nic stares at Mia until she frowns. “If I’d have said, ‘Stay away from my sister,’ you would’ve been pissed. Besides, you have more balls than those two combined,” he says, gesturing to the hulking men. “You would chew them up and spit them out in a heartbeat.”
Mia sniffs, apparently satisfied as her lips pull into a menacing smile. “This is true,” she says after a moment. Both men visibly pale.
Nic sighs. “Anyway, some of us actually have to work. Mia, tell Jake I’ll see him tomorrow if I don’t catch you on your way out.” Standing, he gives each of us a quick hug before returning to the bar.
“Who’s Jake?” asks Ryan.
Mia’s face hardens, suddenly stone-cold sober. “Jake is my son,” she says, her voice turned to steel as she glares up at Ryan, daring him to speak ill of her.
In the last semester of college, Mia found out that she was pregnant with her son. Her boyfriend was a cheating, spoon-fed playboy, and when she told him about the baby, he left her. The very next day, his parents sent their lawyer with a contract and a large sum of money to keep quiet—she never heard from him again.
With the money, Mia was able to start her own publishing company. In six years, she has fought her way to the top, becoming one of the most sought-after editor’s in the industry; she knows what people want—even if they don’t know it themselves—and has a keen eye for editing. It’s one of the reasons why I trust her judgment explicitly when it comes to my novels. And why I’m here doing all of this craziness. She’s the toughest, yet most loving person I know.
Silence thickens around the table. Gabe—not as far gone as his friend—watches the exchange. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows uncomfortably. I notice him elbow Ryan lightly, trying to draw his attention away from Mia’s icy stare, but he ignores it:
“Aren’t you a little young to be a mom?”
What. An. Idiot. Mia’s expres
sion darkens, the fierceness in her eyes burning with scorching intensity. She opens her mouth, but Gabe’s shout draws everyone’s attention away, saving Ryan from the gift of a second anus.
“Isn’t that the woman from earlier?”
I spin around in my seat as the lights dim. The curtains have lifted to reveal Claire’s immaculate silhouette. R&B pumps through the speakers as she struts to the front of the stage.
I bounce out of my seat, leaning toward her. “Go, Chocolate Goddess!”
Shaking her head with an amused smile, her eyes immediately slide over to Gabe, whose shirtless chest is still on display for all of us mere mortals to ogle. And hopefully, touch—my second task of the night still not forgotten.
The tense atmosphere between Mia and Ryan begins to die down as we watch Claire, her movements graceful and fluid, yet highly sensual and seductive. She’s like a spider weaving her intricate web about the room, and we are helpless victims flying close to get a glimpse of her beauty, but ending up trapped. As the song fades out, Claire takes a bow; cheers and applause rumble through the club.
I can’t help but follow her every movement as she makes her way backstage, confidence oozing from her every step. She’s so talented. Jealousy worms its way into my thoughts, but I crush it immediately. She’s worked hard to be where she is. I need to stop comparing myself to everyone else.
“I see you’ve started the party without me?” Claire struts toward us, now dressed in a red halter top and a pair of dark-blue skinny jeans that hug her perfectly. Leaping up, I pull her into a quick hug, dragging her to the table for introductions.
Spotting the list on the table, Claire downs her drink in a second, then reaches over to grasp the laminated sheet. While skimming the contents, a husky chuckle escapes her lips. “Have you touched his abs yet? I’m assuming that’s why he’s half-naked.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of her touch just yet.” Turning to face me, Gabe rests one of his toned arms on top of the chair, the other pulling my hand into his larger one. Guiding my hand like a puppet master, he gently pulls my hand so close to his abs that I can feel the brush of hair against the tips of my fingers. He pauses there, leaving the next move up to me.
(un) Broken Page 5