Star Bright (Bright Young Things Book 1)

by Staci Hart

  I gave her a look in the mirror.

  “I’m just saying that you’re loyal and your heart is huge, which is why it’s always getting bruised. Assholes are always bumping into it.”

  I chuckled while Z brushed my hair. “Last week, you two were practically shoving me into Levi’s lap, and now you don’t want me to see him?”

  “That’s because we thought it’d be a one-time thing,” Z explained as we were swallowed up by a cloud of hair spray. “And anyway, we don’t care if you see him. Just don’t fall in love until you’re sure he’s not a scumbag. ’Kay?”

  “You act like I fall in love every Wednesday.”

  Z backcombed my hair with what I could only describe as aggression. “No, it’s that when it comes to you, what you see is what you get. You don’t count on the other eighty-nine percent of people who only show you what they want you to see.”

  “We’re just saying to watch out, that’s all.” Betty stood, cupping my shoulder and meeting my eyes in the mirror. “If you don’t, we’re afraid you’ll keep getting hurt.”

  “Honestly, I don’t want to fall in love. I just want to be happy, enjoy the company of someone without complications, and I think Levi might be that guy. I mean, assuming he shows up tonight.”

  But Z smirked. “If he doesn’t, he’s the dumbest motherfucker breathing air.”

  “Amen,” Betty said with a praise hand in the air.

  And with my heart afloat, I put all my faith behind that happy thought.

  7

  Cirque du Freak

  STELLA

  Music bumped so loudly, the air in my lungs reverberated as it passed through me.

  The circus tent was huge inside the warehouse, gathered to the point in the top in a convergence of broad red and white stripes.

  I’d wanted an exhibition, and I’d gotten one.

  Strings of bulbs followed the upward curve of the tent and ran around the circumference, illuminating the scene with quiet golden light. From nearly invisible framework hung trapeze bars and tightropes, hoops and ropes for aerial dancers, strewn among sparkling stars and white crescent moons. The performers—secured via off-season Cirque du Soleil staff—rotated their talents, swinging and flying and dancing forty feet above the crowd, which was a sea of top hats and fascinators and velvet and black and white stripes. A spinning wheel stood where one could have knives thrown at them, if they were so inclined, and the crowd was interrupted by swirls of motion around performers, everything from stilt walkers to hoop dancers to fire-breathing jugglers. A fortune teller’s tent stood in deep purple and gold and mystery near the back, and I made a plan to find out what was inside. I salivated at the scent of roasted peanuts and popcorn hanging in the air, and in the center of the tent, in the black-and-white checkered ring, was the bouncing dance floor.

  It was happiness and hedonism, an escape into another world, another time. One where things were uncomplicated, simple. If only for tonight, we would all live in a moment we’d never get again.

  I glanced at the entrance again to the jump of my heart, making excuses. Checking for a glimpse of Genie to give me a sense of how things were going behind the scenes. Or scanning for Dex, my nerves unready to see him for the first time since our split. He’d stayed away out of deference, I supposed, but I’d heard a rumor he would be here tonight and felt unprepared. Who knew if I’d ever feel prepared.

  But the truth was, they were all excuses, nothing more. Because I was looking for Levi, no bones about it.

  When I forced myself to tear my eyes away from the entrance, I wondered how I’d been so thoroughly distracted by Levi that I barely thought about Dex until today. I didn’t even know Levi, didn’t know his last name, hadn’t exchanged more than a few minutes of conversation with him. But then I remembered That Kiss, and everything made sense again.

  The anticipation of seeing him had been almost unbearable, my thoughts consumed with imaginings of him showing up, musings over what would happen if he did. I’d maintained my cool and refrained from texting Ash, but now that I was here—and had been here for well over an hour—my confidence waned with every minute that passed. Ash had probably turned him down in favor of Lily James. Or Levi wasn’t interested and hadn’t even considered coming.

  “If you stare at that door any longer, you’re going to set it on fire.” Z handed me a whiskey and smirked.

  I should have heard her coming with all the jingling chains and coins she wore in her headdress, circling her hips, and draped from the bra top she wore. Her arms were cuffed in gold, wrists and biceps, and her skirt flowed brilliantly, topped off by a tasseled sash and leather belt trimmed with—you guessed it—more jingly metal. Her snake draped around her neck and arms and watched me with what I was convinced was menace.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answered lightly.

  “You should go see the fortune teller. She can look into her crystal ball and tell you if you’re going to get laid tonight.”

  “How’d you know she has a crystal ball?”

  “What self-respecting fortune teller doesn’t?”

  I gave her a look.

  She rolled her eyes, her insane black lashes brushing her carefully manicured eyebrows. “Obviously I went there first. You’re not the only one who wants to know if they’re getting laid tonight.”

  “Who said I’m hoping to get laid?”

  “That look on your face.”

  That face flattened.

  She looked me over. “I can’t believe you went with ringmaster. Little on the nose, don’t you think?”

  I looked down at my costume—black vest with nothing beneath, red velvet coat with tails, bustled black hi-low petticoat, fishnets, black T-strap shoes. With a glance back at the crowd, I spotted a dozen more ringmasters in shouting distance.

  “Take a look around, Z. I’m unoriginal tonight.”

  “Well, you’re the hottest one, indisputably.”

  Betty bounded up the steps to the platform where we stood, one of many placed around the room—a perch from which to admire my work. She was dressed as the sexiest, least creepy clown I’d ever seen—black-and-white harlequin corset, black bloomers trimmed with stripes, her hair teased into a coiffure that was going to take her three days to untangle, her tiny top hat nestled in her black locks. Her face was painted with starburst eyes and bowed lips that stretched into a smile.

  “Ash just got here,” she said, a little out of breath. She stole a sip of Z’s drink.

  And my heart and stomach swapped places when I looked to the door.

  Levi was scanning the crowd, his profile cut against red velvet. His costume was mellow, which I’d somehow expected, not pegging him for one to go over the top, particularly not for a costume party. He wore a black vest and pants, his white tailored shirt cuffed to the elbows and unbuttoned at the neck—basically what he’d worn last week. Tucked under his arm were three bowling pins.

  A laugh shot out of me, my hand moving to my lips as if to erase it. And though he was too far away to have heard me, he paused, turned his face toward me, and looked me dead in the eye.

  It happened again, that rubber band stretching of time, a flashbulb moment to burn a negative behind my eyelids. Slowly, we smiled in unison, interrupted by Ash smacking Levi’s chest and rolling his eyes.

  When I turned back to Betty and Z, they were laughing at me. I scowled back.

  “Somebody’s getting laid tonight,” Betty sang, and Z chimed in, the two of them skipping in place and doing their best to humiliate me.

  “Oh my God, shut up!”

  They burst into laughter again, mercifully cutting their shit out before Levi was on the platform with us and standing dangerously close to me.

  I cocked my head, schooling my grin into a coy smile. “Look at that. You got in.”

  His hand slid into my waist. “I’m surprised you doubted me. I don’t often give up. Especially not when lips like yours are involved.”

  I laughed,
the sound breezy despite the buzzing excitement in my chest.

  Before I could answer, a pair of girls somehow fell up the steps and into Z, spilling her drink.

  She gave them a look.

  “Oh my God, Courtney—I told you!” She turned to Z. “You’re Zelda Fitzperil, right?”

  Z somehow managed to both smile and look unamused. “And you’re drunk, right?”

  They tittered.

  Not-Courtney listed a little and said, “Only a little.”

  “God, you’re so pretty,” Courtney cooed. “I paid two hundred bucks for a makeup artist tonight, and look!” She swiped under her eye and shoved the inky remains of her mascara in Z’s face.

  Not-Courtney pushed Courtney’s arm down. “We just wanted to say you got robbed on Drag Race. You shoulda won. Everybody knows it.”

  At that, Z’s smile was genuine, if not a little salty. “Don’t worry, baby. Second place is just the bottom of the pair, and I can get off on either.”

  We chuckled, but Courtney and Not-Courtney doubled over. Not-Courtney snorted.

  “He’s so funny!” she said to Courtney, who elbowed her.

  “She, you asshole.” Courtney’s face swiveled to Z, visibly confused. “Right?”

  “You can call me whatever you want—I’ll answer to just about anything. Especially the sound of a cash register.”

  Always on, always performing, always looking for a laugh. And Z got them.

  Not-Courtney fumbled with her clutch. “I’ve gotta get a pic.”

  Courtney slapped the sparkly purse from her hands. “God, you are so tacky. I’m sorry,” she said, holding Not-Courtney steady as she patted the ground for her lost accessory. “We’ll leave you alone. We love you!”

  “You and everybody,” Z said, twiddling her fingers as they swayed away. Immediately, she turned, pinning Levi with the wickedest of smiles. “You just juggle bowling pins, or do you do balls too?”

  “I can juggle just about anything the situation calls for,” he answered with a sideways smile.

  “How versatile.” Z looked him up and down. “A ball juggler and a snake charmer. What a team we’d make.”

  Levi laughed, but if he had a comeback, he kept it to himself.

  “Some party,” Ash said as he looked around the tent. He was dressed as a strongman, his hair parted down the middle and a fake mustache under his nose. His outfit was a too-tight Lycra getup that looked like an old-timey wrestling uniform in red and white stripes. His junk bulged shamelessly, and he didn’t seem to notice or care, even though I knew he did, the peacock. “Cecelia did good,” he noted.

  “There’s cotton candy,” Betty said excitedly, as if it wasn’t her idea. “Boozy cotton candy.”

  He blinked. “How the fuck?”

  She waved a hand. “Something about soaking the sugar in liquor before spinning it. Let’s go get some.”

  Betty hooked her arm in Ash’s and discreetly winked at me, but because she was drunk, it wasn’t discreet at all. Levi stifled a smile, looking down at his shoes.

  “Come on. You too.” Betty grabbed Z, and she frowned.

  “But I wanna watch Levi juggle the balls.”

  “Let him have a few drinks before the ball-juggling, would you?” she insisted, dragging everyone down the stairs. “We’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Subtle,” Levi said.

  “As a grenade,” I added on a laugh. And for a moment, we were quiet. “I didn’t know if you’d come,” I finally said.

  “I’d have snuck in if Ash hadn’t agreed.”

  “And faced the wrath of Cecelia Beaton?” I teased. Because we’d made it a habit of publicly ridiculing anyone who broke the rules, which proved an effective method of stopping infiltrators.

  He rolled one shoulder. “If it meant seeing you again? Absolutely.”

  My smile was too honest, and I turned to the crowd, watching the trapeze artists fly. “So a juggler, huh? Can you really do it?”

  “You think I’d bring these if I couldn’t use them?”

  With a laugh, I stepped back, folding my arms and popping my hip. “All right. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  My God, he was handsome. Ten-day beard and shaggy, dark hair. Looming height and broad chest. There was something about his eyes, an unknowable depth with an echo of mischief. Something about his lips, lush and wide and always poised to lift on that one side. Stepping back, he flipped the cuff of his sleeves one more time and grabbed two of the pins by the neck. He looked up, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips before they pursed in concentration. And then he threw one, two, three in the air just as he caught the first.

  I bounced like a little girl, giggling my delight as he tossed one after the other, end over end into the air. And then he switched it up—rather than throwing them in a big circle, they wove in and out of each other. Higher he threw them, and when they reached their peak, he spun around, somehow managing to maintain his catch and pitch. His smile was full teeth at my cheering, though he didn’t dare shift his eyes until he caught them and tucked them under his arm, one, two, three.

  I clapped—along with those in our vicinity—as he rolled off his hat in a bow.

  “You look surprised,” he said when he set the pins on the ground and made it back to my side.

  “Not every day I meet a juggler.”

  He laughed. “I’m not any good, just a thing I learned when I was a kid.”

  “I beg to differ, sir.”

  But he was too busy taking in the circus to argue. “This really is something,” he said half to himself. “I can’t even imagine what a production like this costs. These parties don’t make any money, do they?”

  I shrugged as if I didn’t know. “No one pays to be here, so I can’t imagine how.”

  “Incredible,” he said to the trapeze artist as she spun twice and opened up like a flower just in time to catch her partner’s hands. “What’s over there?” He pointed at the purple tent.

  “A fortune teller. I hear she has a crystal ball.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Serious as a blood moon.”

  I earned a chuckle.

  “What do you say we go grab a drink and see what it’s about?” he asked.

  “Only if you promise to let the knife thrower put you on his spinning wheel.”

  “I’m game. One condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  He leaned in, his lips at my ear. “You first.”

  With a flush and a laugh, I leaned into him. Too soon, he backed away, grabbing my hand to lead me into the crowd.

  But all the warmth Levi had inspired left me in favor of an icy stream in my veins.

  Because Dex stood in the crowd, staring right at me.

  His expression was carefully blank, and I wondered what was happening behind those cool blue eyes I’d once thought were mine. And tucked in his side was Elsie Richmond, her face bright and pretty and earnest under the circus lights, unaware of my presence.

  A tug of my hand snapped my gaze to Levi’s back as he wound through the crowd, occasionally looking up at the performers. Aerial dancers on hoops spun around making artful shapes with their bodies, the trapeze artists gone. Around the center stage we went and to the bar, and once drinks were in hand, we headed to the perimeter of the tent. By the time we reached the fire breathers, I’d mostly forgotten Dex was somewhere under the big top. I had to avoid him. Either that or make a conscious choice to walk up to him, exchange niceties, and be on my way. Preferably with Levi on my arm.

  The line at the knife thrower was crazy long, which somehow shocked me. People would do anything for a thrill, including letting a rough-hewn, possibly tipsy carnie throw knives at them. The girl on the wheel screamed bloody fucking murder as she went around and around, the sound punctuated by the thunk of the knife as it sank into wood.

  I laughed, pulling a chunk of Fireball cotton candy off the cone to pop it in my mouth. My fingers were sti
cky and would be until I was done with the confection, but I licked them off anyway, preferring saliva to sticky clumps of sugar. I’d only gotten one finger before Levi stopped me with his hand on my wrist. I glanced up at him, puzzled.

  “Do that again,” he said darkly, defying his smile, “and I’m throwing you over my shoulder and taking you home with me.”

  A shudder of heat slipped through me. “Then you’ll have to do it for me. They’re all sticky.”

  He turned my wrist over in his hand, inspecting it for a moment with a look that was almost venerating. And to my greatest surprise and pleasure, he brought my finger to his lips, his tongue visible for only a flicker before his lips closed. The sweep of his tongue, the heat of his mouth were a promise. One I wanted fulfilled.

  “Stella?”

  I jumped, snatching my hand back at the sound of that familiar voice.

  “Dex!” I put on my best fake smile and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek in the grandest of shows. “Good to see you,” I lied.

  He smiled down at Elsie, who was straight up beaming at me like a sweet, beautiful little fairy. So I directed the flaming beam at him alone. She’d figure out he was a garbage person. Eventually.

  “I’d like you to meet Elsie. Elsie, this is Stella Spencer.”

  Plasticine smile in place, I lifted my hand. “I’d shake your hand, but …” I held up the cotton candy in display.

  “God, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, her heart-shaped face upturned to mine. “I can’t believe we’ve gone this long without a real introduction.”

  “You just moved here from California, right?” I asked with my heart pounding a rhythm that told me to run.

  “San Fran,” she answered. “New York is a culture shock, but Dex has made it easy.” Again she was beaming, this time up at the snake himself.

  But Dex’s eyes shifted to Levi. The brightness from Elsie’s shine flickered.

  “Who’s your friend?” he asked, something in the question possessive.

  It was baffling. But then again, Dex had always been spoiled. And I didn’t hate the idea of him regretting his decision to turn me out.