I walk to the door feeling like I’ve been released from a set of shackles, and my shoulders actually feel lighter. I might have done it. Given Gunn what he wanted, secured Ruby and Ben’s future by doing what I needed to do—
“Joan, there’s one more thing. You were asking about Alex Danfrey.” I turn back to Gunn, who’s still focused on his notebook. “Don’t get mixed up with him, you understand?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.” He pauses. “Besides,” a smug little smile teases his features, “you need to keep that stalwart heart.”
And just like that, I feel caged again, but by a whole different set of chains.
Gunn’s got no right. He might control everything else, but he’s got no right to control my heart.
“Go on, Joan,” Gunn says when I don’t move, can’t bring myself to answer. “That’ll be all.”
*
I’m a ball of nerves that my solution might fail, so I try my best to focus on other things: on throwing myself into my performance, on our show, on my crowd-pleasing trick with Alex. Alex and I just keep improving it. On Wednesday, Alex gets the idea to change my replica’s scenery, and sends my image on a swim through a lake. The next night I win over the crowd by having his replica trek through a snowstorm. Thankfully, between our heady, nightly performances and the long but delicious days of practicing side by side, the week manages to pass in its own magic flurry—and by the end of it, I’ve somehow shelved my worries about Gunn.
But Friday morning he comes knocking on my bedroom door. “Mr. Gunn.”
Gunn’s eyes are electric, his hands practically shaking. He shuts the door behind him, burrows through the satchel that’s thrown across his body, and pulls out my blood-caged shine. My glass bottle from Monday night is still capped, with a bloodstained glass topper wedged into the mouth. And the shine is still a brilliant, glistening, full-bodied red.
He twists off the top easily, and then places it back on again.
“It worked,” I breathe out.
Gunn turns the bottle over carefully to its side. “Oh, it worked all right. I already tested a drop of the product this morning, too. Joan, it’s flawless.” We did it. I did it. “Some of the higher-ups are already on board. It’s real, this is happening. With their support, I’m meeting a distributor tonight, so I’ll need you to make another bottle,” he rushes, “see if we can’t get him committed to a partnership.”
I exhale loudly, the words, “ten percent,” flashing like a stoplight in my mind.
Gunn tucks the bottle of shine back into his satchel. “Might be a long night of breaking bread, ironing out details. So you need to manage the troupe tonight—pick the finale, run the floor. It’s New Year’s Eve, should be a festive crowd.”
I swallow. “Excuse me, sir? You mean your meeting isn’t here?”
He shakes his head. “It’s at Colletto’s shining room, out near Union Station—too risky to do it here.”
Wait, Colletto—as in the D Street boss, Colletto? I might not know all of the Shaws’ inner workings, but I know that a meeting between Gunn and Colletto is far more than risky, the gangs are sworn enemies—
“The troupe will be fine, you’ll be fine,” Gunn interrupts my thoughts, mistaking the worry that I’m sure is all over my face as concern over running the Den tonight. “Just don’t burn the house down, all right?”
“Sir—” I leap forward to get more details, but Gunn’s already closed my door.
I run my fingers through my hair, pace back to my bed, flop down onto it. I’m managing the troupe tonight. The show is my show. An eternal shine might be possible, shippable. D Street, the Shaws’ enemy, is somehow involved.
Then a thought strums and rings out over all the others, a thought that refuses to be quieted: Ten percent. Ben and Ruby will be taken care of for the rest of their lives.
You run until you win, or until you fall, Gunn had said of me, all those mornings ago, in this very room. At the time, the words felt almost like a shaming, especially coming from a man like him. But I’m committed to seeing the other side of them. I’ve given everything I have, things I didn’t want to give, things that weren’t mine in the first place—but I’ve done what I came here to do. I’m taking care of Ben and Ruby, changing their lives for the better, in a way me and my family never could have dreamed of before. And for once, I give myself permission to feel pride over that—not regret, or shame or fear.
I let myself relish the victory.
*
The day only gets better. I go down to practice expecting a heap of hell from some of the troupe for playing boss, but when I announce that Gunn’s on the road and they’re going to need to deal with me, I barely get a grumble, not even from Tommy or Rose. Our practice even reminds me a little of our days back in the clearing, when our only real worry was figuring out how to make our magic all it could be. No blood, no back-office deals, no secrets.