Eddie seemed practically infected, or maybe poisoned by my power. I would expect that to happen to Lawrence since we have history. Why would he actually stay away when my power was more volatile than ever?
Before I can think more on it, Geanie begins his midnight intro show for us. He puts on all the bells and whistles per usual until it’s my turn to take center stage. The music pops off as we dance and pour drinks into the mouths of excited regulars.
Geanie calls Snow up with us, an introduction that morphs night to night as he works on the material. Since Snow kept her past close to her chest, unwilling to talk about it to give Geanie fodder for his intro, he wanted to make up a background that related to the fairy court. Until Cinder cut him off, saying he shouldn’t debase Snow by associating her with the Charming Court. She mentioned she’d met the prince himself once, and he was a real dick. Geanie now rotated through different stories every night to test what landed.
For a moment, I’m not Goldie, the girl caught up in a dangerous world who was stalked and watched a man get decapitated, but just a bartender, serving drinks with her friends. It's a small escape, a momentary reprieve from the harsh realities that wait.
I wouldn’t have stepped up for lost girl introductions if I hadn’t spotted Brexley sidled up to the bar.
I texted Red and asked if they were in town and if they could come tonight. At least I had the sense to ask for protection against my own powers, as Brexley could drain me of my powers if it got out of hand. Though I spent way too many characters in my text also explaining to Red that I love her too and want her around.
It’s more important than ever that she knows how much she means to me and that our friendship is sacred. She laughed it off and told me to relax, but I still need to hear that she understands and believes me.
We pull Red up onto the bar with us, and for a moment, things are as they should be. But then I spot those looks. Some of the women who are regulars' clump into a group that talks amongst themselves even as they shoot nasty glares my way.
My skin turns prickly and way too hot under the spotlight. It’s suddenly hard to focus and I’m standing very high up, dancing on a bar, putting myself on display for their judgement.
I struggle to draw air into my lungs.
Catcalls of my name come from the crowd of men at my feet, and I’ve started to notice the sensation of when my magic is activating. It’s subtle like static, but right now it’s a constant thrum. The men yell louder, they want more, more Goldie.
“You okay?” Red leans over and asks even as she completes the line dancing steps we do in tandem to the blaring music.
Before I can answer, an empty beer can hits me in the face. The group of women burst into laughter while the rest of the bar bursts into a commotion.
Teetering on the edge of the bar, I fight an invisible war with gravity. One slip and I'll fall in pit of vipers who scream my name, claiming they’ll take me home, take care of me.
A hand steadies me and helps me back down the steps to the backside of the bar before I’m led out from behind the bar. Colors and lights blur together as I do my best to fight off the panic attack.
It’s only when I’m in the locker room that I see who led me to safety. Lysander.
“Thank you,” I gasp, still fighting the hot waves rolling through me, making my stomach roil as my senses drown in overload.
“Here, sit down,” Lysander offers, pulling the chair from the vanity. In minutes, I’m seated with a cup of water in my hand while he pats my back.
“There you go, deep breaths,” he says.
When the worst of it passes, I’m left feeling shaky and weak. Maybe I should have told Rap I needed the night off after all.
Lysander drops to a knee next to me. “You feeling better?”
I nod and smile in gratitude. “Yes, thank you so much for getting me out of that. I think I’m ready to go back out there.”
“You don’t have to,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “You could stay here, with me.”
Then his lips press against mine. The chair screeches back the few inches before it slams into the vanity. We both jump to our feet.
”What the hell, Lysander? What are you doing?” My blood roars in my ears as the panic attack closes back in on me. An iron fist tightens round my chest.
He holds out his hands in an open plea.
“Goldie, I. . . I want you,” he says, searching my eyes as if waiting for me to see the perfect sense of it all.
The floor drops out from under me. I think I'm going to throw up.
“No,” I shake my head vehemently. “You want Cinder. You are perfect for each other.”
He shakes his head, causing the tip of his gray beanie to flap. “No Goldie, it’s you. You are special, unlike anyone else. She’s nothing compared to you.”
