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“Hey, Dewey. It’s cold out tonight. You should have on a scarf. I’ll have them bring you out a coffee—you like it with lots of cream and just a smidge of sugar, right?”
“You always remember. Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”
Stopping just long enough to remove her alpaca wool scarf and wrap it around his neck, she opened the employees’ entrance door and headed inside. “Sammy, can you get Dewey a coffee—lots of cream…”
“I know, just a smidge of sugar. I swear, you spoil the bouncers.”
“No. I just make sure they know I appreciate them watching out for us entertainers. Put it on my tab.”
Sammy gave her a little salute and went to do as she asked. She nicked into the dressing room, opening her locker to grab her chic, black wig cut in a Roaring Twenties bob. She pulled on her wig cap and placed the wig on her head, fussing with it until it fit and looked just right. After touching up her makeup to be effective under the stage lights, she shimmied into the red and black lace can-can dress with the red and black detachable feather train.
“Sonata, Bobby wants to know if you’re doing Fever?”
“Absolutely. I think I’ve finally perfected my routine,” called Alicia.
“That’s a shame,” said Scarlett Champagne—not her real name. “The men always go nuts when you wear that black leather corset and thong and do My Heart Belongs to Daddy.”
Alicia shrugged. She knew it didn’t really make sense that she couldn’t see herself in fet wear at the club but was completely comfortable wearing something similar when she was on stage. All she knew was that when she took on her burlesque role as Sonata Royale, she felt beautiful, confident and unafraid. She lived for those moments. She knew they were a fantasy, but they felt real to her.
“Fortunately for me,” said Alicia, “they don’t get to choose.” She moved in front of the full-length mirror. “Scarlett, can you cinch me up?”
Scarlett came over to help. That was a nice thing about the Majestic. Everyone, for the most part, looked after each other. “I have to say,” she said, pulling on the laces, “as much as I love you in that corset and thong, this new costume is gorgeous!”
Alicia grinned at her in the mirror as Scarlett tied off the lacings in the back of the dress. She reached into the front of the dress to adjust her boobs so they looked their best. Slipping into her heels, she strode onto the stage as soon as the curtains closed. It was funny how just donning her burlesque girl persona influenced everything, even the way she moved—maybe especially the way she moved.
“You ready, honey?” asked Bobby. He called all the girls ‘honey.’
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, shaking her shoulders and her arms all the way to her hands as if to banish the last of her nerves.
“Next up,” said Bobby, “is one of the Majestic’s best. She’s debuting a new number and I have to say the outfit is va-va-va-voom. Let’s give a big round of applause to Sonata Royale doing Fever.”
There was a wild round of applause while the live band started the introduction and Alicia struck a pose. She loved it here—not so much the Majestic or Chicago—but the stage. Here she didn’t have to be Alicia Rennault or even Alicia Jennings. Here she could be Sonata Royale. Here she didn’t have to be afraid. Here she could remember what it was like to be free. Here she could indulge in her fantasy world.
Alicia let everything slip away as she gave herself over to the music. When she heard the subs talking about subspace, she felt she knew what that was. Even though she’d never played in the club, she hit it every single night she performed. As she finished the lyrics to the provocative song, she blew a kiss to the audience. The routine had gone perfectly, and the bouncers were having trouble controlling the mostly male crowd. It was such an adrenaline rush.
Striking her final mark, the music ended, and the curtain began to fall. She felt as if she wanted the night to never end. She wanted to stay on stage forever.
“Alicia!” called someone from the back of the audience. Someone she couldn’t see.
She had long ago schooled herself not to react to her name. No one at The Majestic knew her as anything other than Sonata. No one other than the man from her past whom she’d prayed she would never see again.
“Alicia!” the same voice called again.
She waited until the curtain was completely down, grabbed her feathered train from the stage and rushed into the wings, peeking out to see if she could see who might have been calling to her. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t. She’d taken such care. She was so certain she’d eluded him.
At first, no one she saw as she studied the audience even looked vaguely familiar. Maybe she’d imagined it. Maybe no one had called her name, or perhaps there was another Alicia. After all, it wasn’t an uncommon name. Just as she’d begun to convince herself she had imagined hearing someone call her name, she spotted him.
Shit! He’s found me! Instantly, Alicia was back in that terrible place she’d last seen him. Back when she’d sworn he’d never do that to her again. Back in that time when she had been afraid of her own shadow. Back when she had first dreamed of a new life and done what she had to.
Alicia hurried off stage, stuffed everything that would fit into her bag and rushed out the stage door, hurrying down the alley and slamming into something tall and rock solid. She started to fight, and two strong hands encompassed her upper arms, shaking her lightly until she looked up.
Brock. What the hell was he doing here?
CHAPTER 3
BROCK
Brock fell in step alongside Seth. “You ever going to tell her how you feel about her?” asked Seth, casually—only Seth rarely did anything without a reason for it.
