Mark

My place is fifty feet above the stage, in the dark, on a narrow catwalk. A thick rope hangs beside me, and I wait for Lara to arrive and take her seat.

This afternoon we rehearsed it, and the new props worked perfectly. She sat on the wooden swing with the flesh-toned belt around her waist, and the machinery lowered her smoothly down to the stage where the girls sashay below.

“It’s sophisticated enough we can time it to match the beats of music in the score,” Darby had said, beaming with pride.

I didn’t respond, but when he asked who wanted to be up here holding the safety rope, I was the first to volunteer.

The music barely reaches me all the way up here in the dark. Only the lights on the dancers below are visible. Everything else in the house is black. The second song begins, and I feel the vibration of another body climbing the metal ladder.

I can’t see her, but my muscles tense knowing she’ll be with me in this lonely place in just a few minutes. I look across the ceiling at the wires and canned lights. The air isn’t as smoky; it’s almost like a different world.

She’s at the top, and our eyes meet. She takes a step back, clutching the red robe over her costume. I don’t know if it’s the shadows or her exaggerated makeup, but her eyes are so round, something in my chest pulls.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper. “Did I scare you?”

“I didn’t know you’d be up here tonight.”

“I’m just the backup.” I try to be reassuring, but she still seems uneasy. “Don’t worry. We tested everything this afternoon. It’s all working fine.”

Her bottom lip disappears under her teeth and she looks out over the dark house, still clutching her robe. “I can’t see anything. It’s like they’re not even out there.”

My eyes follow hers and a cheer rises from the darkness. “They’re out there.” She nods, and for a moment, I think I’ve said the wrong thing. “If there’s a glitch, no one will ever know.”

“Roland will know. Fiona will know. Tanya… and trust me, Vanessa will know.” Her voice is even, and her eyes don’t meet mine.

I’m surprised by her nervousness, but I don’t know much about theater work. Perhaps she feels this way before every show.

“Like they’ve never missed a step.”

“It’s time for me to take my place.” She blinks up at me, and just as fast her eyes cut away.

Is she embarrassed?

“I’ll hold the bench for you.” Her hands tremble unfastening the button on her robe. “I’ll be here the whole time.”

Without a word, she lets the robe fall away.

“Shit!” I hiss, and my grip falters.

Her legs are wrapped in pink fishnets that stop thigh-high, and her waist is covered in a feathered corset that stops right below her breasts…

And her breasts, her beautiful breasts are completely bare.

They’re small but full, perched high and pointing straight at me. A line of jewels traces the curve under each and another line follows between and up the center of her chest. They meet at a sparkling collar around her neck, and her nipples are dark pink and hard, sprinkled with glitter.

I see it all so fast, like the sexiest centerfold come to life and standing in front of me, and all the blood rushes from my head straight to my cock. When I’m finally able to tear my eyes off her, I realize my interest isn’t only visible on my face. I slide my hand over my semi.

“Sorry,” I clear my throat. “I wasn’t expecting that—”

“I guess it has the desired effect.” Her voice is small, and she seems so young all of a sudden. Round eyes flicker below my waist and up. “That is exactly what Gavin hopes will happen. To every man in the audience.”

Her fingers tremble as she reaches for the swing, and a surge of protectiveness tightens my chest. In that moment I understand.

“It’s your first time?”

Her gaze is fixed on the stage below, but she nods slowly. “No going back now.”

I swallow the tightness in my throat. I don’t understand her reasons for being here or why she seems to hate it. I only know one thing.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper. “You’ll be the most beautiful one out there.”

As I say the words, it hits me… Once the audience sees her, she’ll be a star.

“Not the most experienced.”

“Experience doesn’t matter. You could stand in one place and have them eating out of your hand.”

That gets me the tiniest smile. Her chin drops, and I can tell from her expression her cheeks are pink. She takes her place on the bench. Her dark hair is swept up in a large feathered pin, and as much as I try not to, my eyes keep returning to her soft breasts. Fuck, she’s so beautiful. Her skin is smooth as silk, and my fingers curl wanting to touch her. I won’t touch her… unless she lets me, but Jesus. I’ll dream about her tonight. Again.

I distract myself by securing the safety harness at her waist and making sure it’s connected to the cables. We’re so close I can feel the warmth radiating off her skin. I can smell the faintest hint of her perfume. It’s sweet like springtime. The light glistens off her glossy lips. They’re full and pink.

“Listen,” she whispers, and her head tilts to the side. “That’s my cue.”

Stepping back, I take my place holding the rope. “Break a leg.”

Our eyes meet, and my muscles are tight. I can see it in her eyes—she knows everything is about to change. The machinery makes a clatching sound just like earlier, and I hear her breathe as she glides out, away from the catwalk and over the open stage.

The music rises from below, and she leans into it like it’s the most wonderful thing she’s ever done. She starts to descend, and the spotlight rises to meet her. Her voice rises with the lyrics to the final song floating up in the velvet curtains.

You reach for me, and I disappear.

My heart is what you long to share…

Far below, the other dancers open in a semicircle for her to land. It’s all going exactly the way we rehearsed it. She sparkles and the effect is dazzling…

Until a sickening, metallic groan blasts right at my ear.

I step back, searching the network of wheels and cables above me.

A loud Pop! and the larger wheel drops so fast I have to duck to avoid being hit in the head.

The metal line holding the swing goes slack, and with a loud Zzzzz, the rope in front of me flies past as the bench goes into a free fall.

“NO!” I shout, as Lara’s body hurtles to the stage floor. Her arms splay out like a starfish, and she’s grabbing at anything to stop the fall.

Collective screams resound throughout the theater, and I don’t have time to think.

Every muscle in my body tenses, and I reach out to grab the zipping rope with my bare hands.

“AHH!” My cry echoes across the top of the theater as the rope slices through my palms like a hot knife through butter.

Warm blood runs down my forearms, but I grip it tighter, slinging my leg around the length for added resistance. My eyes squeeze shut to block out the intense pain, and I drop my weight against it.

I step once, twice, trying to get the remainder under my boot. Finally, it catches, and tugs like I’ve caught a big fish. I shout again as the violent jerk of Lara’s weight slices the rope deeper into my palms.

The pain cuts through my mind like a white-hot poker, but it’s nothing compared to my fear of seeing that beautiful girl broken on the stage floor below.

“Mark!” The scaffolding shakes, and through the haze I know someone is climbing the ladder. “Hold on, Mark! You’ve got her!”

I’m holding on blind, my eyes closed. The rope is around my leg and under my boot, and warm blood is on my hands and arms. The line is buried in my palms, but I’m not letting it go for anything.

Two hands join mine. Darby is right in my ear. “Ease up if you can. We’re going to lower her the rest of the way to the stage. She’s almost there. Roland has her.”

I loosen my grip, but the minute the rope moves, I yell out again. “Fuck!”

The scaffolding shakes, and another person is climbing the ladder.

“Step back and let her go. I’ve got her,” Darby says.

“No,” I growl through gritted teeth.

“It’s okay, son, I’ve got her.” My eyes flinch open, and I see he’s wearing leather gloves and holding the rope above and below me.

Terrence is at my side. “Step back. Give me your hands.”

My muscles shake with adrenaline and force. It took everything in my power to stop her falling, and now I have to let her go.

“I won’t let it move,” Darby says. “Open your hands and pull them straight off the line.”

With a groan, I do as he says. The cable smacks out of my grip and tightens around my leg. Just as fast, Terrence wraps cloths over my shredded palms.

“Squeeze these,” he says. “I’ll unwrap your leg.”

I do as he says, closing my fists over the cloths to stop the bleeding as he unties me. I stagger to the ladder, looking down as best as I can.

They’ve got her. She’s wrapped in a white blanket, and Roland is carrying her in his arms. Her head moves limply against his shoulders, but her eyes are closed.

I have to know she’s okay.

* * *

Lara

Everything is a blur.

I can’t focus on anything except getting air into my lungs.

I’m not dead.

I feel like I’ve been cut in half, but I’m not dead.

Chaos is all around me, and I’m lying on my side. The pain in my middle is mind numbing, and my arms and legs feel paralyzed.

I slowly realize I’m covered in something soft and Roland is at my side, lifting me in his arms.

“Lara?” His voice breaks with panic as someone unfastens the belt. “Can you hear me?”

I try to nod, but I’m not sure if I’m successful. I’m still dazed. The belt is off, and we rise as Roland stands, carrying me. My cheek is against his chest, but I see movement in the wings. I try to lean forward, but it shoots pain through my stomach. Still, straining my eyes, I see Mark at the bottom of the ladder. Someone is with him, but he pushes through the crowd and jogs to where Roland is passing. He’s holding his hands awkwardly, and I see dark red… Is he bleeding?

“Is she hurt?” His voice is desperate. “Lara?”

“You need to come with me,” Terrence touches his arm, but he jerks away.

“Is she going to be okay? I held her. I caught her as fast as I could.” His voice comforts me. I remember how he tried to encourage me before.

“Step back.” Roland’s voice is icy. “This had better not be your fault, boy.”

I look into his dark eyes wanting to make him stop. Stop talking to Mark that way… But I can’t seem to make my voice work.

“What is it?” Roland asks. Then inhales raggedly and clears his throat. “I’ll take you to your room.”

Terrence leads Mark away, and I look back in time to see Fiona unwrapping his hands. Inch-thick bloody lines tear down both his palms.

“Shredded your hands all right, but it’s lucky you caught her,” Terrence says. “She’d be dead otherwise.”

I shudder and press my head against Roland’s shoulder. His grip around me tightens. “This will not happen again,” he says through clenched teeth as he carries me to my dressing room.

We follow the dark, narrow corridor fast, past dancers hanging in the hallway looking curious, past the closed doors. He places me on my small bed. “I’ll get Rosa to come and check you over.” Someone hands him a small bottle. “Here, take this.”

I stare for a moment at the white pill in his palm before he puts it to my mouth and I take it, swallowing it down with a sip of water. The medicine works fast, and I roll onto my side, closing my eyes, overcome by exhaustion and shock.