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It’s hot under the lights showcasing my every move, but this has nothing to do with twenty-thousand-watt lightbulbs and everything to do with the heat of Laken’s stare as he watches me bob and weave around Knox like he paid for the privilege.
I should be singing. That’s the main part of my performance, but I can’t get any words out. I’m too busy trying to remember the routines I memorized when watchingMoulin Rougewith Jenni and Emily at the Sydney Theatre Company during the first half of their world tour last year.
I can’t kick my legs as high as the stars of that show, and I don’t have a skirt to flare, but if the bulge that rubs against my leotard when I end my performance by straddling Knox’s lap is anything to go by, my moves are just as provocative.
“We might have to put an under-fifty clause on ticket sales,” Knox breathes out slowly after waiting for the dancers’ applause and catcalls to slacken. “We don’t want an old geezer having a heart attack when you send all the blood in his body rushing to one area.”
His response is what I’m aiming for.
It is merely coming from the wrong person.
After dismounting Knox’s lap and acting oblivious to his whine, I spin to face the imaginary audience before bowing to their illusory applause.
I’m on cloud nine and the most confident I’ve ever felt… until I sneak a peek at the seat Laken’s hip was butted against at the start of my performance.
The entire row is empty, and Laken is nowhere to be seen.
17
LAKEN
As I squash my phone to my ear, my blood still hot from how close I was to returning to prison, I spin away from Knox’s gleaming face.
He’s only experiencing a minute portion of the performance I was awarded from Nicole two nights ago, but it pisses me off to no end.
It is right up there with him fucking with my freedom for the second time in my life.
It is lucky River called when he did because I don’t know how much longer I could have held back from vocalizing my anger for the world to hear. I’m a ticking fucking bomb seconds from detonation.
Halfway to the exit, I say, “You need to speak up. I can’t hear you.”
“It’s Mom…”
That’s the only part of River’s reply I catch, but the panic in his tone is potent enough that I only glance back at Nicole for half a second before I complete my exit of the dance studio in a sprint.
As much as this kills me to admit, Nicole’s safety falls more on Knox’s shoulders than mine.
I won’t make the same foolish claim with River, though.
“Don’t go anywhere. I’m on my way.”
“Laken?” River asks when the stomps of my shoes are softened by the carpet pile in Nicole’s SUV I assign as if it is my private mode of transport.
“Yeah.” I place on my belt before gesturing for the driver to return to the hotel.
The crack of his reply breaks my heart. “I’m not at the hotel.” He only sobs when he’s hurting. He doesn’t feel pain like the rest of us. The only way you can hurt him is by breaking his heart.
“Where are you?”
Another sob before, “We’reat the—”
His voice is replaced by one I haven’t heard in a long time. “The transfer of guardianship you issued your friend’s family won’t hold up in court.”
“River is over eighteen. He doesn’t need a guardianship order anymore.”
My mothertsksme. “I bet the judge we’re about to see will disagree with you. River’s disability requires management—”
“Management you haven’t supplied him for over twenty years.”
