“Now.” His tone tells me it isn’t a request.
I nod and follow him through the side door into a narrow hallway I’ve never seen before. He walks fast, leading me on a steady slope down. We take a sharp curve, and we’re still traveling lower, going underground, beneath the stage to where the trap doors lead. Yellow lights in cages are scattered at distant intervals, casting long shadows through the dusty basement. Still, he doesn’t stop.
We arrive at another door at the opposite side of the theater from where we entered.
Gavin pauses, and looks at me over his shoulder. “In this job, you don’t talk about what you see.” It’s a command, given with icy finality.
He waits, and I realize he’s waiting for me to acknowledge I understand.
“Yes, sir.” My voice seems small in the vast area.
My skin crawls as we pass through the door. It’s clearly a secret area, recently renovated with fresh carpet and new wallpaper. My gaze travels up to the ceiling, and I see tiny black domes for surveillance cameras.
I think of what I know about secrets and places hidden underground. Usually when things are secret, what happens in them is illegal. Terrence’s warning flickers in my mind, and my muscles tense, bracing for what’s to come.
We’re in another hallway lined with doors, but it’s quiet. I’m pretty sure we’re alone. Gavin stops at the first door, pushing it open and reaching inside to flick a switch. It doesn’t flood with light. It warms with the illumination of yellow bulbs.
“In here.” He stands back as if waiting for me to enter ahead of him. I hesitate and meet his eyes before entering the room.
Immediately, I recoil. My voice escapes on a hiss. “What the fuck?”
A bed is against the back corner, and it’s torn apart. Sheets are pulled away and part of the bare mattress is exposed. The smell of sweat and something deeper, musty, hangs in the air, and dark stains are on the sheets, a swipe on the wall, a handprint. On the carpet is a large, black oval. Is it blood? Is this a crime scene?
“Clean it up.” He starts to leave, but I go after him, down the short hallway.
“What happened here?”
He doesn’t stop, and I reach out to grab his arm.
It’s a mistake.
He turns on me faster than I can see, slamming my back to the wall, his forearm at my neck. This guy’s as tall as me and twice my weight.
Blue eyes bore into mine, and bourbon stings my nose. “You work for me now,” he growls. “You don’t ask questions. You don’t think. You do as you’re told.” Tightening his fist on my neck, he pushes me toward the room. “Clean it up. Burn the rest.”
“Take it easy, Gavin.” The scuff of shoes precedes another man joining us. He’s short and beefy, and when he turns, light reflects off a badge. My stomach roils when I realize he’s a cop, and he’s staring at me, memorizing my face. “Mark Fitzhugh, right?”
I won’t confirm or deny.
I don’t have to.
“Reese Landry, meet the new guy.”
“Kinda young, isn’t he?”
“He’s young, but he’s got guts. He’ll do what it takes to stay here.”
In that moment, I realize Gavin has my number.
Landry walks closer, taking one glance into the room before smiling at me. “Welcome to our world, Mark Fitzhugh. Enjoy your stay.”
Nausea is in my throat, and I watch the two men leave. I’m alone in this strange hidden place facing this dark task.
Two steps, and I consider running. It’s not too late to catch up with Terrence and leave in the morning on a fishing boat headed for a tropical paradise. Or simply hop a train and ride it all the way to Chicago. He won’t come after me. Why should he? I don’t know anything—what happened here or why.
Fuck Landry, the crooked cop. Fuck both of them and their surveillance cameras.
One thing stops me. It’s the thing Gavin knew before I did. I won’t leave Lara behind in this place. She’s the reason I told Terrence no. She’s the reason I told Gavin yes…
She’s never given me a reason to stay. It’s only the barest hope, a few stolen kisses and a dream of something more. We both want more than this life, but now I’m being pulled deeper into it. Welcome to our world.
Reaching for the doorjamb, I squeeze the wood in my fist as my stomach churns. I won’t leave her here, which means I’m going to do this job. I look side to side in the hallway. He said to clean this up, burn the sheets…
I walk further down the passage, deeper into the belly of this beast, until I come to a narrow door with a brass plate on the outside. No inscription, but I push it open and find what I’m looking for inside. A mop, a bucket, shelves of supplies. Clorox and lighter fluid. It’s the start of my work here, cleaning up the mess, burning the evidence, covering their tracks.
I don’t know who lost this fight.
I only know I won’t be seeing Lara tonight.
9
“Limits, like fear, are an illusion.”
Lara
The bones of the feathered corset cut into my bruised torso as Rosa pulls the laces tighter. The pain almost makes me cry out, but I fight it. Gavin said I’m going on tonight, and that means no more hiding. I don’t know if Freddie will be in the audience watching as I make my debut in diamonds. If he is, I don’t know how that will change things.
Next comes the glittering top. It’s a network of chains, which she attaches with costume glue to the skin under my breasts and up the center of my chest. The collar is snug around my neck, and when I stand straight, it raises my small breasts so they point straight ahead.
“Be still,” she says, standing in front of me and taking out the brush and paint.
I stare at the corner where the wall meets the ceiling behind her as she touches me lightly with the brush. Painting my areolas with pink glittered body paint. The strokes of the brush are gentle, and my nipples harden.
“Good,” she mutters. “The paint is cooling. It will keep them tight and pointy. Men love that.”
My stomach tightens at the thought of Mark seeing me this way, wondering if he loves it. When we kissed, I told him I only wanted him to see me this way. It’s still true, but it’s a stupid dream. Everyone will see me tonight. My only comfort is in how different I look—almost like my transformed body has become my costume.
“They look bigger… How?” I study my new-and-improved bosom in the mirror. Gavin has often complained about my small breasts, my boyish figure. He’ll approve of this development.
“The corset pushes you up,” she says. “And perhaps you’ve grown a bit.”
“Not this much.” The new corset is blood-red velvet with lines of black sequins running up the bodice. A train of black feathers flows from each of my hips, leaving my ass exposed in only a thong, and the front is the smallest heart-shaped scrap of fabric.