The noise of heels clicking up the hall tells me he’s gone.
I only see red.
Stepping out of the dark dressing room, Lara stands in her doorway looking directly at me. She’s wearing that robe, and her expression is unapologetic.
It takes less than ten steps for me to be directly in front of her. “When did he start kissing you?”
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head as if trying to remember. It makes me even more furious. “A few days ago? I thought you knew—”
“I didn’t,” I snap. “I don’t want him kissing you.”
“I’m sorry,” she snaps back, and my stomach clenches painfully. “You don’t get to make orders like that.”
My jaw tightens, and I turn to walk away. Then I turn back. “What we had… it meant something to me. It means something.”
Her eyes move away from mine. “It meant something to me… But my situation has changed. I can’t see you anymore.”
Three steps and I’m with her again. “What changed?” My hands grip her arms, and I pull her closer. I put my lips in her hair and kiss her temple.
“Stop,” she whimpers, but her hands tighten on my arms, holding me. “I can’t—”
Releasing her at once, I step back. “That hasn’t changed.”
Her voice trembles, and tears glisten in her eyes. She fights them. “Where were you last night? Tonight?”
“Gavin sent me away. I had to drive to Atlanta.”
“I needed you…” A lone tear falls, but she shoves it away fast, clearing her throat. “I realized I had to take matters into my own hands.”
As much as I want to comfort her, I can’t. I’m hurt and betrayed. Turning away, I face the wall, but my bleeding insides force me to ask. “Didn’t any of it matter to you? That night, the things we said?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and when she does, her voice has changed. It’s formal, stoic. “What we had is a beautiful memory, but I have to think of Molly and me. Our safety.”
My voice rises. “I said I’d take care of you. I just need time.”
“How much time?” she shouts back. “You’ve been saying that for weeks, but still you can barely support yourself!”
A sick misery fills the air around us. She’s blinking fast, and we’re both breathing hard.
“So you prostitute yourself to a man you don’t love?”
“Bastard,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “You have no idea what I’m up against.”
My anger won’t let me take it back. I’m furious and hurting, and I only want her in my arms. “I know more than you think.”
“Then you know I have no choice. I have to do whatever it takes to get us out of this place.”
We only glare at each other a few seconds longer. Hurt radiates from both of us, but I turn away. I stalk up the hall, pushing through the door before we say another word we can’t take back.
The metal door slams against the cinder-block wall as I blast through it. I’m still wearing my clothes from yesterday. Light-blue dress shirt and slacks, but the blazer is slung over a chair. I dig in the pocket for Gavin’s keys, ready to give them back and head to the jazz club near Marigny for a car bomb. Or three.
“Hey, Fitz.” Eddie, one of the old crew members who never left, stops me. “I get it now.”
“What?” I growl.
“Why you kept that job up high.”
He nods toward the rafters, and my eyes follow. “What are you talking about?”
“Larissa!” He slaps my shoulder. “Those tits are gorgeous from the stage, but fuck me, up close… I almost—”
Pain flashes through my fist as it slams into his stupid face. I’ve got him by the throat against the wall, and I’m pounding him with all the fury blazing in my chest.
“Fitz!” His hands are up and he tries to defend himself, but I don’t stop.
Another voice shouts louder. “Fitz, stop!”
Two sets of arms grab me from both sides, dragging me off the man. Eddie drops to one knee clutching the blood gushing from his broken nose, his split lips. My hand is throbbing and starting to swell.
“What the fuck!” he shouts, looking up at me.
“Stay the fuck away from Lara!” I shout, and Darby pushes me across the empty backstage area.
“Walk it off!” he yells.
One of the other hands helps him push me to the back door. “Go home and get some rest. Don’t come back until you’ve got it together.”
Digging in my pocket, I find Gavin’s keys and toss them into Darby’s hand. “Give those to Gavin.”
Adrenaline surges through my veins, and I can’t stop shaking. I’m headed away from Bourbon Street, the bar, my bed, and walking fast toward the river. The alley is wet, and streetlights create rainbows in the gasoline-laced puddles. I splash through them until the alley opens, and I’m facing Jackson Square.
The cathedral looms before me, and it’s the same as always, tall, dark, and foreboding. The doors are closed and locked tight. No sanctuary. Crossing the flagstone courtyard, I know I need to ice my hand. The broken bones throb, but the pain is nothing compared to the pain in my chest.
My stomach cramps when I think of what I said to Lara, what she said to me. The image of Freddie kissing her is like a hot iron to my already bleeding heart, and I want to fight more. I want to beat something until I stop feeling this way.
Until I don’t care anymore.
Pulling up short, I realize I’m at the jewelry store. I’m standing in front of the plate-glass window, and that display is glittering in the lights. The shiny pen she said belonged to her mother. My hand goes to the glass, followed closely by my forehead.
Standing in the dark, looking at what she had to sacrifice, my fury melts into sadness. Why would I expect her to hold onto me when she’s already lost so much?
Eddie’s crack about her body clenches my teeth. He was with her there, alone in the darkness. I remember fighting off Vanessa in the darkness, and my rage fans to life again, only this time it’s directed at that fucking crewmember I should have finished.
Did he touch her? Did he try to take advantage?
Of course, she’s kissing a fucking rich guy. I promised I’d be there and I wasn’t. I promised I’d keep her safe, and I didn’t. Stepping back, I scan the door looking for the store hours. I see my reflection in the glass, and I see bloodstains on my shirt.
Looks like I have some shopping to do.
Lara
Fighting the pain twisting my chest, I meet Freddie for lunch again the next day. It’s as polite as always, another small café the travel magazines hail as one of the best in the city. We dine, he talks of his business interests, I try to care.
After we’re done, he mentions needing to stop by a men’s store, and I shrug, not having a reason to say no. It’s a lovely fall day. The sky is blue with puffy white clouds drifting by. It seems impossible the weather could be so joyful when my heart is a desolate wasteland.
Freddie holds my hand, and we approach the flagstone courtyard of Jackson Square. The artists are lined up in rows as always, but I resist looking for Mark among them.