“I’m sure. To Charles, it’s all about the show and how many people he can stuff in his pocket.”
“Ugh. I don’t know how someone lives their life being so fake. They all had the same shiny veneer.”
I shrug. “When you grow up in a world where material possessions or power determine your worth, you get used to performing. It’s all most of us have ever known.”
“Well, if you ask me, that’s a shitty way to live. I don’t know how anyone could do that long term. I could barely handle it for what? Half an hour, maybe? I had to physically bite my tongue as Charles paraded me around like a goddamn trophy. Every time he touched me for whatever reason, even though it was only my shoulder or arm, I was fighting the urge to recoil or cuss him out. I couldn’t stop wondering about my mom. If she ever had to work a crowd like that and how she handled it. Or if she ever looked at me growing up and was reminded of him somehow.”
“I highly doubt anything about you reminded your mom of him .”
“Yeah, but you don’t know that for sure ,” Jazz challenges. “He’s half the reason I exist, and considering what you suspect about how I came into this world, how could she never look at me and be reminded of that time in her life?”
She has a point, but I’m not about to let her think she shares any traits with that man. I’ve known Charles Callahan my entire life, and he and Jazz couldn’t be more opposite.
“Well, I made it out of there without throwing any punches, so I think we should consider the evening a win. I’ve no doubt my dad would’ve somehow used a distraction like that to his advantage, which was the main thing holding me back.”
“The fact that I didn’t throw any punches in Peyton’s direction after all the snide comments she made makes this evening a win.”
I laugh. “But it would’ve been fun seeing the look on Peyton’s face if you did.”
Jazz’s full lips curve. “Yes. Yes, it would have.” After a moment of silence, her smile morphs into a frown. “There is an end in sight, isn’t there? We won’t always be chasing monsters, right?”
I grab her hand over the console and press my lips to her knuckles. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Chapter 4
JAZZ
“What about this one?” Ainsley holds a red lacy bra in front of her. “It’s hot, right?”
“It is,” I agree, thumbing the price tag. “But are you really going to spend four hundred dollars on a bra?”
She holds the lace to her chest, looking at herself in the gilded mirror. “Why wouldn’t I?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Because you could probably get almost the exact same thing at Victoria’s Secret for ten percent of that?”
Or Walmart for about three percent of the cost, but I leave that thought to myself.
Her delicate chestnut brows furrow. “But... this is La Perla . Handcrafted Italian lingerie. And it’s a Black Friday deal, so it’s really only like three-hundred and twenty.”
I love Ainsley to death, but she really has lived a sheltered life when it comes to things like money. I legit almost turned around and walked out the door as soon as I saw the first price tag in this store. I mean, we’re in Beverly Hills—on Rodeo, no less—so I knew stuff would be well out of my pay grade, but I had no idea the designer markup was this ridiculous. It makes me a little sick knowing my own dresser is filled with equally expensive lingerie, no doubt, thanks to Madeline. That scrap of lace in Ainsley’s hands could be almost a month’s worth of groceries for some families.
“Never mind.” I shake my head. “It’s pretty. You should get it.”
“I don’t want pretty. I’m looking more for I-want-to-rip-that-off-with-my-teeth sexy. This is part of Reed’s Christmas present, after all.”
“That it is.” I wag my eyebrows. “Grab some matching panties with cutouts in the back, and you’re golden.”
“Jazz!”
My lips kick up in the corner. “What? You’re the one who decided to give the gift of anal for Christmas.”
My voice was quiet enough that no one else could’ve possibly heard us, but Ainsley’s cheeks turn crimson anyway. God, she makes it so easy to give her a hard time about Reed’s inner freak.
“That reminds me... I need to buy some things online when I get home.”
“Like what? Lube?”
A snooty blonde picks that moment to walk by and scoffs in disgust, making me laugh.
Ainsley covers her face with her hands. “Oh, my God.”
“C’mon, Ains. You know I’m just giving you shit.” I pull her hands away. “See what I did there?”
She shakes her head with a smirk. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But you love me anyway.”
“I do, Jazz. I really, really do.”
“Likewise, babe.” I give her a soft smile. “Hey, what do you know about this party next weekend?”
When Kingston told me about this holiday party, my first instinct was, hell no , but when he mentioned Ainsley would be there, I had to consider it.
She picks up a yellow balconette bra and holds the satin garment out before deciding against it. “Not much. Just that some guy my dad works with on occasion is throwing it. But apparently, he’s connected to some other guy at the Los Angeles School of Performing Arts. There might even be a few instructors in attendance. I thought it would be good to make that connection, and my dad agrees, which is why he invited me to come along.”
“So, you’re going to the party with your dad?”
“No. Reed’s coming with me, but my dad will be there.”
“I thought you were dead-set on Juilliard?”
“I was.” Ainsley grabs a few pairs of panties. I have to remind myself not to mentally add up how much money she’s spending.
“But?”
“But... I don’t know if I want to move across the country anymore.”
“Because of Reed?” I guess.
She sighs. “I don’t want to be the girl that skips out on her top choice for a boy, but it’s not just Reed that I’d miss. It’s my brother, Bent, you . You all plan on staying in Southern Cali, and I don’t want to be that far away from you. I know we could visit, but it’s not the same. Besides, it’s not like the LASPA is a crap school. They have one of the highest post-graduation placement rates in the country. They’re constantly funneling graduates into the Los Angeles Ballet.”
“Why are you at Windsor anyway?” I quirk my head to the side, surprised I haven’t thought of this before. “You’ve known you wanted to dance professionally since you were little. It’s not like there aren’t several performing arts high schools in the area.”
“I actually got into one of the best, but my dad guilted me into attending his alma mater. ‘Davenports graduate from Windsor, and you are a Davenport, Ainsley.’” Her voice drops a few octaves on the last sentence. “That’s why I take so many classes. They even offered me a teaching job after winter break, which would look great on paper, so I think I’m gonna do it. I don’t think many people realize how many hours dancers need to practice each week to go pro.”
“So, you can’t hone your skills during the day—even though that was an option—and you have to maintain a full academic course load? Then, not only keep up with homework but attend dance classes for hours after school, leaving very little time to just be a normal teenager.” I shake my head. “What a selfish ass.”
“I’m used to it.” She shrugs. “He’s been that way for as long as I can remember. That’s why I’m always trying to do stuff on the weekends. I want to have a normal teenage experience, like boyfriends, and parties, and hanging out with my friends. As much as possible anyway.”
“You really think you’ll stay in LA?”
“I guess it depends on where I’m accepted.”
“Well, I’m not going to complain if you do because I can’t leave Belle.” I point a stern finger at her. “But only if you stay for the right reasons, not for a boy.”
Ainsley smiles. “Reed actually offered to go wherever I go. He’s been applying to schools in New York just in case.”