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20
GRIFF
I waiteduntil the last possible moment to take my seat in the theater. I bought front row balcony tickets for every single performance. I don’t plan to miss one moment of Claire dancing her dream on stage.
The lights flash, announcing that the show will start in two minutes. I sit and look down at the box seats. A pang hits my chest when I see Con, Lilith, Levi, and Ivy sitting down there together. There’s an empty seat that I know would be mine if I hadn’t betrayed Con’s trust.
As uncomfortable as that ache is, it’s nothing compared to the gut punch I feel when Claire dances out onto the stage. Her costume is a sparkly black leotard, tights, and black pointe shoes. She explained to me once how she does modern ballet, a mix of contemporary dance and classical ballet.
I’m breathless watching her move across the stage. Her passion bleeds all over the floor, a final act for a career cut far too short. She dances like she’s going to war because she is. War against her body. War against time. I feel the indescribable tug of our connection, a calling from her soul to mine, to stand at her side and battle her demons together.
There is no way forward for us that doesn’t include she and I being together. A plan forms in my mind as I continue to watch her. I pay the other dancers zero attention as I plot; they might as well not even be on stage with her. I know exactly how I’m going to get her back.
The first act flies by, and as the lights come up and people stand to stretch their legs or use the restroom, I stay rooted in my spot. I refuse to miss a second of this. I’m thumbing through the program when I see an advertisement for a fundraising gala following the final performance. It says all the dancers will be in attendance. With that one glance, my plan falls perfectly into place.
I continue to watch Claire dance for the next two acts with rapt attention. Occasionally Friday’s red hair will pull attention enough to watch and appreciate her skill, but my eyes always go right back to Claire. The effortless grace she moves with is truly awe-inspiring. I know how hard she’s worked for this, and I’ve never been prouder of another human being in my life.
I’m so glad I kept the wall of protection I built for her well-maintained even after she attempted to ruin us. Last week, one of our gossip reporters was approached with a story, mostly false but with enough truth to be damaging, about Claire. We bought it and trashed the story. The best part, though, is that I now know who was trying to sabotage her.
That dancer, Avery Weaver, will be arrested tonight after the police find her with enough cocaine to charge her with several felonies. Kent, the asshole choreographer, will end up ensnared in the investigation, too. Such a shame to see two promising careers come crashing down.
After the final round of applause, including a ridiculously inappropriate catcall from Levi, the dancers move back behind the curtain, and the audience stands to exit. I hang back a second, allowing my friends time to exit. I still haven’t spoken with Con, and this is definitely not the place to have that inevitable altercation.
I’m one of the last to leave, but there is still quite the crowd on the street. I texted my driver and told him I’d meet him a block or two over to avoid the gridlock. A black-on-black Range Rover screeches to a stop next to the sidewalk I’m on. I know exactly who it is and steel myself for what I think will be a punch. Instead, I am pulled into the vehicle by my arm.
A pair of angry, cold green eyes stare back at me when I look up. Then, I look into the front seat and see Levi with a guarded look on his face. Connor tells his driver my address. I shoot a text off to my driver telling him that I caught a ride and he can head home.
No one says anything on the drive to my apartment. The tension in the car is rising with every passing second. Levi is getting fidgety and already has his suit jacket and tie off. Con’s sitting beside me in black on black on black, looking dangerous. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I’d probably be worried for my safety.
When we finally get into my apartment, Levi goes straight to the bar and pours himself a drink. I turn to Con and get ready to square off. His jaw is set, and his hands are already fisted. I can feel him struggling with control. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I’ll be punched at least once. I’m not going to be the first to talk though, he pulled me off the street. He can go first.
“Why were you there tonight?” he asks.
“Where else would I be?”
“Hiding like a little bitch. Like you have been the past few weeks.”
Levi tips his head back and groans, obviously already irritated with the antagonistic tone. He throws back the rest of his whiskey before going back for more.
“I was giving everyone space. A chance to cool off before reaching out.”
“Really? It feels more like you were just being a coward, hiding at Mommy and Daddy’s house.”
“Fuck’s sake, Con. Don’t be a dick.” Levi snaps.
“News flash, pretty boy, I am a dick.” He turns his attention back to me. “You fucked my sister.”
“I fell in love with your sister.”
“Then where have you been? She’s crying. She misses you. She’s not okay.”
“She looked me in the eyes, after I publicly confessed my love for her, and said that what we had was just sex and a favor.” I tap my chest with my hand. “How the fuck do you think that felt?”
Con stares over my shoulder, refusing to acknowledge my feelings because if he does that, he has to let go of some of his anger.
“I’ll tell you how it felt. It felt like she reached into my chest, grabbed ahold of my heart, and squeezed it until it shattered. Then she doubled down and walked all over the pieces. I feel empty. Like there is a Claire-size void in my fucking soul.”
I can feel Con soften just a tiny bit. “No more lies, Griff. How long was this going on? Because what you are saying and what she says doesn’t exactly line up.”
