He pauses, sliding the backs of his fingers across my cheek and nodding slightly.
She’s out of the show, but Gavin has other ways of making money off our bodies. A breath hiccups in my throat, and the pain moves from my heart to my stomach as I imagine the things she might have to do. I imagine men hurting her, pushing her on the floor like Vanessa.
Roland pulls me into a hug, and my fingers clutch his sleeve as tears heat my eyes. “I’ll help her if I can,” he whispers.
But I know there’s nothing he can do. If she chooses to stay here, she’ll be a sex worker. She’ll be pulled into Gavin’s ring of darkness until she’s convinced it’s all she’s worth doing. It’s the same lie that keeps them all here. It’s a lie I refuse to believe about myself. I have talent. I have options, and I’m giving him one last chance to keep his promise.
“Go to bed,” Roland says, releasing me. “You’ll feel better in the morning. We’ll start our new project.”
Nodding, I go inside and slide the lock on my door. I always lock it against those men. We’re not humans to them. We’re a means to an end, and they’re dangerous, unpredictable. They don’t always wait for permission.
The lamp is still on, and Molly’s copper curls are spread over the pillow. With a sigh, I gaze down at her sleeping face, so placid. So trusting.
At thirteen, she’s way more interested in boys than I ever was. I have to double down on finding a backup plan, a new job that will get us out of here. Just in case anything goes wrong. Just in case Gavin tries to go back on his word.
Shoving off my jeans, I climb into the bed beside my little friend. “Because he’ll never pass up the chance to make more money,” I say to myself.
I turn off the light, and Molly snuggles closer to me like she’s done since that first night when I found her dirty and starving. I’m no better, a lonely orphan who managed to sing my way to a spot in the show, but I have no family, no one to love.
“Who won’t?” Her voice is sleepy.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “You’re still awake?”
“A little,” she whispers. “Tell me who.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I’ve never wanted her to know about what happens here. I don’t want her to be afraid—not as long as I’ve got us covered.
She’s quiet and just when I think she’s asleep, she says, “Then tell me how I came here.”
“You want to hear that old story again?”
“Yes.” She burrows closer into my side, and I stare into the darkness trying to remember how it goes.
It’s a silly made-up story I used to distract her when she’d wake up crying in the night those first days after I rescued her. Even though the minor details change every time I tell it, she doesn’t seem to care.
“Let’s see,” I begin. “Oh, yes, your mother was a gorgeous dancer. And when she met your dad, she couldn’t help but love him.” I smooth a curl. “He played beautiful music on the guitar, and she danced for him.”
“But he couldn’t marry her,” Molly says. “Because he had no money, and she was a rich man’s fiancée.”
“So he went away to find his fortune, but before he could return, your mother married the rich man. Still, he came back, and she went to him. Then nine months later—”
“Tell me about our future,” she interrupts. “I like that story better.”
My eyes are heavy, but I take a deep breath and shift gears. This story is not pretend; it’s a promise I’ve made to both of us. “One day we’ll leave this place. I’ll find a better job, something legit. Maybe Freddie will help me.”
“Will he take us to Paris?”
“He might.” I kiss the top of her head. “And if he does, we’ll fly right out of New Orleans and never look back. We’ll live on the Avenue Montaigne.”
“The richest street in Paris!” she adds. “And we’ll ride in a limo, and you’ll have diamonds and a little dog.”
I squeeze her closer as my throat grows tight. “And we’ll never think about being here. Ever again.” I trace my fingers along her upper arm until I feel her relax. “Now go to sleep.”
3
“Every moment of light and dark is a miracle.” -Walt Whitman
Mark
Darby is shouting as Terrence and I enter the theater.
Even though we worked solid from the time I got here, yesterday ended before we could test the new machinery for last night’s show.
“Priority one is getting that pulley system operating and the safety backups tested today,” he yells. “Don’t let me catch you fucking around or flirting with the dancers. Gavin wants it ready to go tonight.”
One glance tells me only half the crew is back to work. “What happened to all the men?”
“Eh, it’s pretty common.” Terrence taps a fresh cigarette out of his pack. “They get a few bucks, spend them on screwing some pretty girls, and they’re gone.”
That makes me frown. “How does anything get done around here?”
He only shrugs. “Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. They don’t pay enough for loyalty in this business. And Darby’s an asshole.”
I look over at the stocky man shouting at a truck driver. My lips tighten. Terrence has a point.
“Why did you come back?” I glance at my new friend.
“I need the money, and I don’t like sitting around. You?”
“Same.” It’s a good enough reason, and I’m not about to say the grueling labor keeps my mind off the shitstorm my life has become. That it quiets the nagging voices wanting revenge for my uncle’s death. I feel pretty confident Terrence wouldn’t be impressed.
I definitely don’t say a part of me hopes to see a certain dancer again. The last thing I have time for is a girl, no matter what my dick says.
“You need the money?” Terrence chuckles. “How old are you, boy?”
His tone irritates me. “Twenty-one.”
“Youth is wasted on the young. If I was twenty-one, I wouldn’t be here either—unless I was waking up in one of those back rooms.”
Lowering his chin, he gives me a pointed look before going to join the other men. I stand by the coffee and day-old beignets, bruised fruit, and water. I grab a bagel just as the dancers start filtering in.
I don’t want to look for Lara, but I can’t help it. She pirouetted through the few dreams I had last night with her silky dark hair and crystal blue eyes. I woke up with a hard-on, the image of her lean body, gorgeous and lined, slim hips rocking rhythmically on my cock taunting me to come. Both hands on my face, I scrubbed that vision away. I know from last night’s show, she doesn’t strip. I wonder why…
Loud clapping breaks through my thoughts. A dark-haired guy about my age strides across the stage shouting, “Eat fast, ladies. We need to get moving.”