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“Fuck,” the man outside tacks on, his tone playful. His spirited nature makes sense when the brunette’s cheeks turn the color of beets as he adds, “You’ll learn that one day. I’m still in with a shot of arresting him. I just need Regan to stop hiding his assets so well.”
I realize their relationship is more friendship based than romantic when she rolls her eyes at his insinuation her other half is dirty.
After banding the strap of an anklet tracker around my ankle, she advises, “The only thing you can’t do is remove it.” She locks her chocolate-brown eyes with mine. “If you do, you’ll be swarmed by law enforcement officers in minutes.”
Her tug on the strap digs the clasp of the anklet so firmly into my skin it maims.
“Sorry.” The brunette accepts a plain white handkerchief from the guy outside to dab up the droplets of blood careening down my foot before she fixes the tracker in place with less gore. “Sometimes I’m stronger than I realize.”
She hands the bloody handkerchief to her partner before checking that the tracker is working on a handheld tablet.
Several heart-thrashing seconds pass before I’m given the all-clear to leave. “Everything appears to be in order.” She farewells me with a smile and dampens my eagerness to leave by reminding me to be mindful of my surroundings. “And be sure to let Knox know we’ve caught up with you.” She waits for me to look at her before she finalizes her statement. “He wasn’t overly obliging when we visited your hotel last night. Anyone would swear he didn’t want you speaking to us, or he wanted you to finalize the remainder of your sentence behind bars.”
16
NICOLE
By the time Laken graces us with his presence, dress rehearsal is over, the crowd has diminished, and he missed my first standing ovation.
The crowd went wild at the end of my set. They stomped their feet and hollered as if it weren’t little ol’ me up on the stage, belting out lyrics like their approval was the only thing capable of keeping me alive.
They loved every second of my performance, but you wouldn’t know that from how Laken shoots daggers midway through Knox’s praise. “I told you you had nothing to worry about. They couldn’t get enough.”
As I wipe my sweaty head with a towel from the wings of the makeshift stage, I reply, “Thank you. This performance really put my mind at ease. I feel so much more confident about your vision now.”
It is the fight of my life not to roll my eyes when Knox says, “You should have never doubted me.” But I defy the inevitable since Laken supplies enough eye rolls for the entire crew. “I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” When Laken’s hooded eyes burn into me a second after I loop my arms around Knox’s shoulders to issue him my thanks with a hug, the anger that steamrolled into me when he made out I go home with a different man each night returns full force.
He belittled me as if I were a whore, so I may as well act like one.
“Although there’s still room for improvement.”
“Such as?” Knox asks, pulling back, his expression telling. He wants to shut down my suggestion before it’s heard, so I start with a point I know he will entertain for at least a minute.
“I think we need to ramp up the sexiness of the choreography. Give them a taste of what could be offered if they play their cards right.”
Knox isn’t the only one shocked by my suggestion. Bonnie’s mouth gapes open, and several dancers’ eyes bug out of their heads.
Laken’s expression remains impassive. It exposes he’s happy to call me a whore, but he doesn’t believe I have what it takes to be one.
I’ll show him.
“Imagine plucking a random man out of the audience each night and giving him the performance of his life.” I walk the length of the stage, pretending to seek a participant in the sea of one before spinning back around to face Knox. “You, handsome gentleman, would you be so kind as to join me on stage?”
He grins at the showiness of my voice before gesturing that he’s already on the stage.
“Not there,” I murmur before taking my impromptu performance to a never-before-reached level by pointing to one of the chairs the backup dancers use during the chorus of “Glitter,” a debut single on my album releasing next week. “There.”
“There?” Knox double-checks.
While grazing my teeth over my lower lip in a way I hope is sexy, I nod.
“All right, I’ll play along.” He shoots his eyes to Laken, shrugs like he’s clueless I am using him to make his friend jealous, then plops his backside onto the dining chair I’m planning to strut around like a stripper does a pole.
“If you’re going to do this…” Bonnie says when I join her in the stage's wings to switch on the music, “you better do it good.” She removes the cloak I placed on at the end of my performance, leaving nothing but a skin-tight leotard and fishnet stockings. “Don’t leaveanythingon the table. If you want a man ofthatcaliber to get jealous…”—once again, her eyes don’t sling to Knox during her reply. They lock on Laken, who is now glaring at Knox more than he glared at me earlier—“you need to ensure he knowsexactlywhat he’s missing out on.” She twists me to face the stage just as the opening of “Glitter” booms from the speakers. “Now show him what he’ll never get again if he doesn’t pull his head out of his ass.”
With a pat on my bottom, she forces me back under the spotlights.
