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“Hey, Pen! Good to see you. The girls will be out in a second,” Grim says, pulling me in for a brief hug the moment she’s close enough. She nods at York. “So, you’re the chauffeur today.”
“Yep, looks that way.”
“And you must be Clancy,” Grim asks, turning to face my best friend. She cuts her a look that could be interpreted a number of ways. Clancy clearly takes it as a challenge to impress her and holds her hand out to shake.
“Nice to meet you.”
Grim’s eyes drop to Clancy’s proffered hand. After a beat she takes it. “I’m not sure anyone has ever said that it’s nice to meet me.”
Clancy smiles, and I can see the sexy way she cocks her hip. I groan internally. “There’s always a first.”
Grim let’s go of her hand and nods. “I’m not into women,” she says, pinning Clancy with her stare before turning her attention back to me. Clancy’s cheeks flare and York stifles a laugh. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve got planned for this weekend. Do you want to go change? The girls are out back doing the same.”
“Sure thing.”
“Great. I’ve got shit to be getting on with in the meantime—mainly trying not to shoot these lazy cocksuckers—so I’ll catch you in a few,” Grim says, walking off only to stop a few paces away. “Oh, wait. I forgot to say—”
“What?” I ask her.
“I saw your dance on Instagram—”
I pull a face. “Youhave Instagram?”
“I have a private account under a completely random name. It’s quite a useful tool to keep an eye on people. Anyway, I saw your dance.” She grins at me, giving me a look of solidarity. “You fucking told him, Pen. I’m so fucking proud of you.” With that she turns on her heel and walks away.
Clancy blows out a breath. “Well, fuck, I might be in love.”
The three of us burst out laughing, and I’m pretty sure I can hear Grim joining in too.
* * *
Four days later,Clancy and I are in the changing room at Tales putting the last-minute touches to our outfits for the show. “Thanks so much for standing in for Sophia tonight. I appreciate it,” I say, passing her a glass of champagne, which she downs in one long, thirsty gulp. It’s Saturday night and this is the second performance of the routine Clancy helped me to choreograph.
“Girl, you know I’d do anything for you,” she replies with a wide, red-lipsticked grin before throwing her arms around me, a cloud of Chanel Number 5 perfume engulfing us both.
The rest of the dancers bar Sophia—a pretty blonde who called out with the stomach bug—are also getting dressed. There’s a lot of laughter and excitement, we’re all hyped for the show given it went so well last night. It’s a mash-up of tap, flamenco and a little bit of street added in. As usual, the girls picked up the routine with ease and Grim was more than happy with what I put together with Clancy’s help. Not one of the dancers have been worried about a repeat of the bloodshed of a few weeks ago. I’m guessing working at Tales, surrounded by criminal men and women on the regular, gets you used to the violence. Or perhaps it’s the extra security around the place. The new hires might beghostsbut they have an air of badassery that makes us all feel a lot safer in their presence. Contrary to their namesakes, they’re very much a visible presence.
“Well, just know that I’m happy to return the favour at any time,” I say, passing Clancy the black wig and purple lace eye mask. She pulls the wig on, adjusting it until it falls over her shoulders just right. Then adds the mask.
“I look hot!” she states, twirling in a circle and showing off the black long-sleeved bodysuit, purple stockings and silk, and a see-through, ankle-length skirt. Paired with black, sparkly heeled tap shoes and she looks gorgeous.
“You do!” I agree, pulling on my own wig and mask. The rest of the dancers do the same; dressed like this it’s difficult to tell us apart, which was purposeful on my part. I want the audience to focus onallof us, not just me. The beauty of this dance is the synchronicity, not the individualism of each dancer. I don’t want to be in the spotlight, but a part of the whole.
“Seriously, though,” I say, placing my hands on her shoulders. “I’m grateful you stepped in. The routine wouldn’t have worked with one dancer missing.
“Hey, you’re welcome. Besides, I got to witness Beast beat the shit out of that dude tonight… what was his name again?”
“Jefferson Sloane, but on the street, he’s known asMad Dick Magenta. He’s the best fighter the Callous Crew has,” Grim says, stepping into the changing room. “Not a bad fighter, actually. Just sloppy. The kid is far better at parkour. I’ve seen him leap from the top of a five-story building onto a window ledge two floors below just to spray paint his tag. He has no fear. None. In fact, all of the members of the Callous Crew are fearless.”
“Parkour and graffiti. Cool,” I say.
“Well he was no match for Beast’s left hook. I thought Jefferson’s head was going to rip clean off his shoulders,” Clancy remarks, her cheeks flushed pink with excitement. “It was such an exciting fight. All that blood!”
Grim glances at me, then shakes her head. “Your friend is quite the bloodthirsty little thing.”
“She's special, that’s for sure,” I reply with a chuckle.
“Uh-huh… Anyway, enough of the chit-chat. Are you ready? I’m just giving you a ten-minute warning—”
