Act Twenty-Two
Luka Kotova
“Luka, go—go.” She starts to shove me away, but then she changes her mind and pulls me into the Urban Outfitters, the door shutting behind us.
Inside, we weave between jewelry stands and racks of purposefully ripped denim jeans. Her grip on my hand tightens, beyond panicked.
“Bay—”
“Shh.” She puts her finger to her lips and then slightly crouches behind the window-front manikins.
I follow suit and through the glass, I spot what she saw.
My stomach drops.
Vince, an older dark-haired AE employee, the one who caught us almost five years ago—he stands authoritatively on the sidewalk, dressed in a suit jacket and white tee. I always thought he looked like Nicholas Cage, and he’s not alone.
He speaks rapidly to Geoffrey Lesage, the young choreographer.
“Geoffrey shouldn’t be with Vince,” Baylee says. “They’re not even in the same department.” Vince is the head of marketing.
It seems weird. I can’t hear or read their lips, but Vince has several disgruntled lines on his forehead. Clearly, he’s not happy.
Geoffrey points at the store.
We duck behind the manikin’s platform.
Baylee drops to her ass and shields her face. “Shit. Shit.”
“They didn’t see us,” I try to assure her. “It’s okay.” I’m squatting and I’d reach out and hold Baylee, but that’s the issue right now. Us. Being close.
She exhales heavily. “What if they did see, Luka?” She tries to peer at the glass door without breaching the top of the manikin’s platform.
“They would’ve already rushed in here and caught us,” I whisper. “Look, we’re not even positive Geoffrey is aware of our past.” He always seemed oblivious. Case in point: he let us partner up on the trampoline.
Baylee stares off as she says, “He was with Vince.”
I see where she’s mentally headed. Marc Duval claimed that there were two AE employees informed about our contracts and watching us, just in case we broke them. We practically knew one had to be Vince. And now she’s thinking the second is Geoffrey.
She’s forgetting something.
“Geoffrey can’t be watching us. He’s new, Bay.”
“There are shakeups every season.” Her hand is on her forehead, stunned at this scenario. “What if the person who was watching us left Vegas, and Marc needed someone new to keep an eye on us? Geoffrey would be the perfect person. He’s around us more than any other company member.”
It makes sense.
I just don’t want to accept that Corporate is that close, still breathing down our necks. “Then it’s a good thing,” I say, trying to hang onto the positives. “We know exactly who to watch out for.”
Baylee nods to herself and then tries to peek over the platform but she hesitates. “I’m scared.” Her voice spikes. “Luk.”
I reach out and clasp her hand and squeeze. “I’m not going to abandon you at the end of this. Hey, Baylee, look”—I cup her cheek, and her widened gaze meets my calm—“I’m here for you. You’re not alone in this.”
Baylee leans towards me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, careful of her neck. Pulling her close, I kiss the top of her head.
“You know what’s strange?” she says softly, glancing once to her right. We’re secluded from most of the shoppers, and I don’t see Geoffrey or Vince nearby.
“What’s strange?”
She looks to me. “I feel the safest in your arms, but in reality, it’s the most dangerous place to be.”
I wear a weak smile. “Being with me is a dream.”
“The best dream,” she says confidently.
For the sake of our reality, I remain alert, and I risk a glance above the platform. I don’t see anyone from Corporate.
“It looks like they left.”
She tugs me down when I take too long, and anxiety surfaces in her features.
“I’ll go out first,” I whisper, “and head back to the hotel. I’ll text you if the street looks completely clear. You can leave whenever you want after me.” I know it’ll give her peace of mind if we split apart here.
“I want to see you again,” she says, so assured that I don’t even ask if she’s certain.
“I’ll text you a time and location for tonight.”
She starts smiling off my smile. “Okay.” Fear lowers her lips, but I squeeze her hand one more time before I let go entirely.
Then I rise to my feet. I have trouble tearing my gaze off of hers, all the way to the door. I push outside, people meandering down the Vegas strip.
Cars honking.
Life moving quickly.
I look left and right down the long stretch of sidewalk. No Corporate in my view. And I text Baylee as I leave.
All clear. 10 p.m. Meet me in the lobby at Two Kings Hotel. See you later, krasavitsa.