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“You think finding out my childhood best friends are the reason my brother is in prison doesn’t hurt me?” I choked out, conflicted feelings pulling me apart. “I spent two years getting even for you, and I need to know that I didn’t fuck up their lives for nothing more than lies.”
“I promise you, they deserved it,” Noah said quietly. “If it wasn’t for them, I never would have gotten arrested.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“You believe me?”
I lifted my head in a nod again. I didn’t know who to believe. Noah had never lied to me. But neither had West or Eli when we were kids. But nine years could change anyone. I knew I’d changed. I glanced at my watch.
“I have to go,” I told him. “I need to be somewhere tonight.”
“We’re good, right?” he asked, pain filling his face.
“Of course we are, Noah,” I murmured. “You’re my brother.”
“See you next week?”
“Yes.”
I stood up after he walked away and hurried out to my car. I was still reeling from everything. The conversation with the guys yesterday and what Noah had just said. I didn’t know if I’d ever know the full truth. Because I didn’t know who I could believe.
It didn’t matter anyway.
Tonight, I was going to the Blue Lounge. I’d been planning this for a week. I’d find paperwork for James, and it would be a start to an end. Once I gathered everything I needed, Noah would be free. And I would never set foot in Braidwood again. Which meant finding out if the guys were telling the truth wasn’t worth it.
I’d never see them again once this was all done.
* * *
Staring at myself in the mirror, I wondered if my idea was possibly one of the stupidest I’d ever thought of. I guessed if it worked, then it was worth it. My eyes were full of silver, glittery eyeshadow with winged eyeliner. Blush and bronzer enhanced my cheekbones, making my face seem narrower. The silver dress I was wearing covered the bare necessities. Just barely. If I bent over, everyone would be getting a view of my matching silver thong.
I matched every other dancer that was backstage at the Blue Lounge. The other girls had been curious about me, but I’d done my research before coming here. They had been looking for a backup dancer, and Lola—a.k.a. me—answered the ad. It was a way for me to move around behind the stage without raising suspicion.
Everyone on campus knew who I was, but I was still pretty invisible to the rest of the city. Only the security guard here knew who I was, and I’d come through with my hood up and makeup fully done. He didn’t recognize me. I’d already checked the families’ schedules, and no one had planned to be here tonight.
“Lola, your wig is amazing.” Ed, the stage manager, came up behind me and fluffed my purple waves. “Where’d you get it?”
“Umm, online,” I answered, figuring it worked out better if everyone thought my hair was fake.
“Beautiful,” he muttered as he held out his hand to help me stand from my chair. “Okay. You’ll be in the first dance. Then we’ll need you for the finale. I know you haven’t had a chance to learn the songs or moves but—”
“What?” I cut in, blood draining from my face. “I was told I wouldn’t dance tonight. It was just a costume check.”
“I know, I know,” he soothed me, grabbing my shoulders. His long blond hair hung past his ears, and he jerked his head to get his bangs out of his eyes. “But you’ll be fine. We need one more dancer. Don’t worry, it’s not even a full house tonight.”
“I don’t know the dances,” I squeaked out, severely regretting this plan. “I’ll mess it all up—”
“Please.” He glanced at my chest. “With that body, there is no man in the audience that cares if you can dance. Plus, I’ll put you in the easiest spot.”
Ignoring my protests, he pulled me to the side of the stage and pointed to a stripper pole in the dead center.
“All you need to do is dance on the pole. Doesn’t need to be anything fancy. The other girls will be doing the routine on chairs around you.” He flashed me an encouraging smile. “You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” I muttered.
“I have three girls out sick and two more with sprained ankles,” Ed said with a frown. “We need as many on the stage for this dance as we can.”
“One less person won’t make a difference,” I argued back, trying to control my nerves.
