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“But it’s so notyou.”
Despite the dire situation, I couldn’t help my dark chuckle. “What? You don’t think I can be sexy?”
She flashed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. You look like a newborn foal when you walk in heels.”
“A sexy foal?”
“No. A foal walking over a very thin ice sheet.” She offered me a tremulous smile.
Silence fell between us. The chatter from the canteen filled my ears.
“I have to do this, Frankie. I screwed up. I won’t let anyone I care about get hurt. I have to get us out of this.”
She reached across the table and gripped my hand. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“I’m not letting you go alone.”
I tried to swallow the lump that lingered in my throat. “I can’t do it with you there. Please. I need to sort this out. Let me fix this.”
Frankie blew out a breath. “It’s not up for debate. I’m waiting in the car outside for you. But will you do me a favor?” She fiddled with her eyebrow ring, her tone laced with quiet emphasis. “Next time you even contemplate doing something so utterly, ridiculously, absolutely daft as borrowing money from Jed’s shithead cousin, speak to me first.”
Chapter 8
Miri
Thedressingroombuzzedwith chat and laughter. I rushed my makeup so I wouldn’t have to linger on the girl that looked back at me in the brightly lit mirror. My heart was so sore, I may as well have been painting my face ready to slide into my own coffin. My fingers trembled as I positioned my electric-purple bob on my head. I tried to steady my hand to apply my liquid eyeliner. The cloying scent of hairspray hung in the air so thickly I could taste it. I dusted another layer of powder around my eye, covering the bruise I’d got earlier in the day when Adele had elbowed me in the face during a bad tackle.
Deano stood in the corner watching us. My skin crawled to have him in there. None of the other women batted an eyelid.
“It takes a lot of confidence to take your clothes off in front of a room full of people.” Deano shoved another clear shot into my trembling hand. “And when you don’t have the confidence, it takes vodka.”
The alcohol burned a path of fire down my throat. I wasn’t a drinker, but there was no way I could do this stone-cold sober.
He gave me an appraising glance. “You ready?”
No. “How long do I have to do this for?”
“Until we’re straight with your debt. If you dance good, it won’t take long.”
His dangerous gaze locked with mine in the mirror and he frowned. “What’s up with your eye?”
“An elbow in the face.”
“It doesn’t look good.” Deano nudged the woman applying her eyeliner next to me. “Make Miri pretty.”
The woman measured me with a cool, appraising stare before she crossed to a dressing table on the other side of the room. She returned holding a decorative black-and-gold Venetian-style porcelain mask.
“A mask? Isn’t this going to look weird?”
A bright mockery invaded Deano’s stare. “Better to look like you’ve come here from a masquerade party than a boxing ring.”
I secured the elastic around the back of my wig, fixing the mask in place. I tried to relax my face while the other dancer applied a thick coat of brick-red tint to my lips.
Deano looked me up and down with a critical squint. “Good enough.”
“I don’t want to do this. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
