Mark

Darby is shouting as Terrence and I enter the theater.

Even though we worked solid from the time I got here, yesterday ended before we could test the new machinery for last night’s show.

“Priority one is getting that pulley system operating and the safety backups tested today,” he yells. “Don’t let me catch you fucking around or flirting with the dancers. Gavin wants it ready to go tonight.”

One glance tells me only half the crew is back to work. “What happened to all the men?”

“Eh, it’s pretty common.” Terrence taps a fresh cigarette out of his pack. “They get a few bucks, spend them on screwing some pretty girls, and they’re gone.”

That makes me frown. “How does anything get done around here?”

He only shrugs. “Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. They don’t pay enough for loyalty in this business. And Darby’s an asshole.”

I look over at the stocky man shouting at a truck driver. My lips tighten. Terrence has a point.

“Why did you come back?” I glance at my new friend.

“I need the money, and I don’t like sitting around. You?”

“Same.” It’s a good enough reason, and I’m not about to say the grueling labor keeps my mind off the shitstorm my life has become. That it quiets the nagging voices wanting revenge for my uncle’s death. I feel pretty confident Terrence wouldn’t be impressed.

I definitely don’t say a part of me hopes to see a certain dancer again. The last thing I have time for is a girl, no matter what my dick says.

“You need the money?” Terrence chuckles. “How old are you, boy?”

His tone irritates me. “Twenty-one.”

“Youth is wasted on the young. If I was twenty-one, I wouldn’t be here either—unless I was waking up in one of those back rooms.”

Lowering his chin, he gives me a pointed look before going to join the other men. I stand by the coffee and day-old beignets, bruised fruit, and water. I grab a bagel just as the dancers start filtering in.

I don’t want to look for Lara, but I can’t help it. She pirouetted through the few dreams I had last night with her silky dark hair and crystal blue eyes. I woke up with a hard-on, the image of her lean body, gorgeous and lined, slim hips rocking rhythmically on my cock taunting me to come. Both hands on my face, I scrubbed that vision away. I know from last night’s show, she doesn’t strip. I wonder why…

Loud clapping breaks through my thoughts. A dark-haired guy about my age strides across the stage shouting, “Eat fast, ladies. We need to get moving.”

He goes to the piano and stacks sheet music on it. As soon as he sits, he begins to play, but I don’t recognize the tune. A few of the girls go to the center to stretch or warm up and I linger, watching them. Two nights of lost sleep caught up with me last night, but I plan to stick around for the full show tonight.

One of the blondes from yesterday looks over her shoulder at me and winks before bending forward in a stretch. With her ass pointing right at me, she blows a kiss through her legs, and I decide I’d better join Terrence and the other guys when I see her.

She walks slowly across the stage, seeming distracted. Her long hair is looped up in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing black dance pants and a black tank.

Lara.

She moves so gracefully, she’s like the ocean swaying out at sea or the movement of tree limbs in a thunderstorm. I wonder what I’d give to have my dream come true, her slim body naked in my arms.

She doesn’t stop until she’s standing next to me inspecting the contents of the table. She chooses a small blueberry muffin, and for a moment she only holds it, lost somewhere else in her thoughts.

“Not a fan of blueberries?” I give her a friendly smile.

She blinks as if coming out of a dream and lifts those crystal blue eyes to mine. “What?”

“Sorry. You seemed sad.”

“Oh,” she exhales a small laugh. “I’m sad to be out of bed. We don’t usually start this early.”

“Late night?”

“Hmm, no later than any other night.” Her voice is soft and faintly melodic, and she doesn’t walk away.

I should walk away, but I don’t. “Did you go out after the show?”

“No.” She shakes her head, and her dark hair swishes around her cheeks. “Did you?”

“Nah. They worked our asses off yesterday. I got back to my place at nine and crashed.”

Her cute little nose scrunches. “You didn’t stay for the show? I thought it was one of the perks of the job.”

“I stayed for a few minutes.” Long enough to see you…

Images of last night’s performance filter through my memory. Tanya’s performance is primarily backbends and splits with scraps of clothing tossed off as the show progresses, until the only thing she’s left wearing is a jeweled thong.

The rest of the girls saunter around like models on a catwalk in sky-high heels, thongs, and drippy, jeweled straps. Their legs are lean, their breasts are round, and they’re hot.

Sure, I’m a red-blooded American male and their bodies got my dick going, but I was only interested in one of them… This one right here. And when she waltzed onto the stage in an elaborate feathered costume complete with enormous, white wings, I was unexpectedly relieved to see she wasn’t nude.

She showed the least skin on stage, and still, she was the sexiest one out there.

“It was interesting,” I say. She makes a sound of disbelief, and I smile. “What does that mean?”

“Interesting? What made it so interesting, just Mark?”

“You remember my name.”

“You just told it to me yesterday.” She lifts the coffee cup to her pink lips and takes a sip.

I want to ask her if she has a boyfriend. I want to know everything about her. “Maybe I could take you out one night after the show. If you’re not too tired.”

Her body stiffens, but it’s too late to take it back—not that I want to take it back, but I don’t want to seem like an asshole only interested in her for her body. I really want to know her better. She’s pretty and thoughtful and I can tell she’s smart…

“I don’t like to go out in the city,” she says. “I don’t want anyone to recognize me.” Worried eyes meet mine. “You probably think I’m silly.”

“I think you’re smart. New Orleans can be pretty rough.” As I know too well. “I could bring a disguise? Black glasses with fake noses and mustaches attached?”

She smiles, but the distance remains. “Isn’t it against the rules for you boys to be mixing with the dancers?”

“I was told not to go into your room, but otherwise…”

“Fitz! Get your ass over here,” Terrence shouts.

My mouth pulls into a frown, and her head tilts. “I guess that’s you? Nice chatting with you, Mark Fitz. Take care of yourself.”

That makes me smile. “I will. And I’ll be sure this thing is safe for you.”

“I appreciate your commitment.” She does a little nod.

You have no idea. “See you at the top.”

* * *

Lara

Molly appears at my elbow as Mark, the friendly new guy, walks away. He’s cute, tall with bright blue eyes and a friendly smile. I like talking to him, and I’d probably take him up on his offer if I weren’t focused on more important things.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Molly says.

“I’ve been right here getting coffee.” I catch Roland’s eye. He’s sitting at the piano playing “The Very Thought of You,” and we exchange a smile. He knows it’s one of my favorites.

Last night, I lay awake thinking about what he’d said for so long. The first time he’d called me his muse, I’d instantly fallen in love with him. I was eighteen, and a silly, lovesick puppy. It was the first time I’d ever felt appreciated for my talent.

I felt seen.

I felt safe.

I threw myself at him and tried to make out with him. My cheeks heat at the memory of me French kissing him. He took my arms and gently removed them, so gracious. I was so blind.

Roland only ever leaves the theater with other men.

Molly’s eyes are glued to my face. “That’s why you don’t care about Freddie,” she says. “You’re in love with Roland.”

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m not.”

“I’m not blind. There’s clearly something between you two.”

“It’s called friendship.” I grab a mug and slide it under the coffee machine. “Anyway, why are you so obsessed with love all of a sudden?”

She picks up a shriveled orange. “It’s not so sudden. Rosa’s new book is full of it.”

“Rosa and her books.”

Our wardrobe director is a matronly former dancer who keeps us stocked with reading materials, and she has a weakness for romance—the dirtier the better.

“Besides,” Molly continues. “You’re way overdue for a lover.”

“A lover? You sound like someone’s grandma.”

She takes my arm, eyes sparkling. “So, am I right? Are you and Roland secretly lovers?”

“No.” I sip my coffee, the warm liquid sending a tingle down my spine as it wakes me.

I sniff the bitter-chocolate aroma mixing with sugary beignets, rosin, talc, and stale cigarette smoke—the smells of home.

“I think you’re lying,” she says.

I shake my head as I clutch my cup in both hands. “I’m not.”

“Lara, come try this for me,” Roland calls from where he sits at the piano, erasing and rewriting notes. I walk over. “See if you can sing this.”

He plays the introductory chords as I scan the sheet music.

You’re in my arms and it feels so right;

but it’s simply aaaan illusion…

He joins me in harmony on illusion, and our voices hold the chord perfectly for eight beats. I close my eyes, letting the beauty of it relax the pressure in my chest. That’s why I fell in love with him—for his sheer, raw talent.

When I stop, he’s smiling at me, and backstage has fallen silent. I smile back at him. “Perfect.”

He immediately returns to scribbling notes on the score, and everyone else returns to their conversations. I lean on the back of the piano as he writes; his brow furrowed as he silently composes.

Molly frowns. “And that’s supposed to convince me?”

Roland looks up at her and grins. “What’s on your mind, shortcake?”

“Love,” I answer for her.

His eyebrows rise. “You’ve fallen in love, Mol?”

“More like Lara has, and she refuses to confess.”

“Again?” He shakes his head. “So fickle.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Even if I’ve accepted his truth, it’s not nice to tease me about it. I walk around to sit beside him on the bench. He slides over to make room for me as he continues to play. Molly leans on the back of the piano and watches us.

“And who is the incredibly lucky fellow this time?” He tilts his head toward me.

“It’s you, of course. Don’t you remember?”

His hands still over the chords for a split second, then he glances up at Molly. “Of course. Silly me.”

“I knew it!” She bounces on her toes clapping. “Oh, it’s so romantic! Do you write all your songs for Lara?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, resuming his play.

Shaking my head, I stand and take Molly’s hand so she’ll stop clutching her chest. “Stop swooning and come on.”

We’re halfway across the stage when Gavin appears, and everyone stops what they’re doing.

“Roland, Darby, Fiona,” he says their names as if reading off a list. “I need to speak with you.”

Roland stands and walks toward the theater owner. Darby emerges from behind a set, and Fiona, our dance coach, scampers with perfect poise from where she was working with Bea and Tanya.

“Lara,” Gavin says, noticing me. “Is this little Molly?”

My mouth goes dry, but she smiles at him all innocence. “I’m not so little!”

“No?” Bloodshot eyes move up and down her body, and my throat closes. Shut up, Molly. “Let me see those legs.”

She puts her hands on her hips and starts to turn, but I quickly catch her arm and jerk her behind me. “She’s just teasing.”

Gavin glances at me. “Roland mentioned something new. You up for leading a show?”

“O-of course.”

“Good. Now back to work,” he barks. “I want the new blocking ready for tonight.”

From far away, it seems, I hear Evie and Tanya do a stomp-stomp! My eyes meet Vanessa’s, and hers are shooting daggers at me. I can only imagine what’s bugging her ass, and I don’t have time for it.

“Don’t ever do that,” I say through clenched teeth at Molly. “Don’t you know anything?”

Roland’s pencil is in her hand, and she sketches on a blank staff. “You’re always so panicky. I think Gavin’s nice, and he treats you like you’re the next big thing.”

The thought makes my stomach roil. “Gavin is only interested in money.”

“Because he cares about us. If the show fails, we all fail with it.”

“Not all of us. Gavin will survive, even if we don’t.” Once we’re at the back of the stage, I push her in the direction of our room. “Go back and see if you can help Rosa.”

She makes a complaining noise, but she leaves. I go to my spot at upstage right and follow the lead of the other girls with warming up. I spend some time going over the steps from last night, repeating and reworking my entrance.

Burlesque is not complicated stuff, and my part is pretty insignificant. All of the eyes are focused on the girls taking off their clothes. I’m starting to get bored and annoyed that I had to get out of bed early for this when Roland joins me.

“How are you feeling today?” Real concern is in his expression.

Lowering my arms, I face him. “I’m okay. I’m worried about her.”

He knows I’m thinking about Evie, the one person who always made rehearsals fun.

“Don’t worry. I’m working on a way to help her.”

“How?”

I’ve never known how he does it—his connections and ways of getting things done. I’m only sure half, if not all of it is illegal.

His lips tighten, but he smiles, sliding a dark curl behind my ear. “It’s not something for you to worry about. Anyway, I was sent to find you.” He takes my elbow. “We need to test out this new contraption they’ve built.”

I follow him to where Darby stands by the piano facing the back wall. He’s looking up into the rafters, but when we appear, he turns to me.

“The idea is you’ll float in like a bird… or a cloud or something.” The confusion in his gravelly voice almost makes me laugh.

“Or an angel?” I tease. “You haven’t watched the show much this season.”

“Seen one set of tits, you’ve seen ‘em all. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

My eyebrows rise. “What exactly am I doing?”

“Sit on the bench, don’t fall off, and we lower you slowly down to the stage.”

“What do you think, Lara?” Gavin’s baritone is full of authority, asking me what I think as if I have a choice. “How does our newest angel feel about flying?”

“I’m sure it’ll be… interesting.” I peer up… up… up into the darkness high above the stage, and while I’m not afraid of heights, the skinny catwalk so far above makes my stomach turn.

“It’s time you show more skin. Tell Rosa you’ll be topless tonight.”

“I don’t see why that’s necessary,” Roland argues. “Lara’s just a kid.”

“She’s a woman,” Gavin says, pinching my cheek. “No more hiding it. Give me a little shimmy on the way down. The men will eat it up.”

I try to smile, but it dies on my lips. I knew this day was coming. What the hell am I doing here if I don’t intend to strip? I just wasn’t ready for it to be tonight.

Roland’s steely gaze meets mine, but I shake it away. If I’m going to lead the show, his days of sheltering me are over. I don’t have the right to feel betrayed.

Still, a sense of dread creeps across my stomach. I’ve been around here long enough to know what comes next. First I’m topless, then I’m on my knees.

This is how it starts.