Chapter 25
“How I hate to leave you alone, Jess!”
—Gertrude Chandler Warner, The Boxcar Children
Red and blue smoke filled the front of the auditorium. People jumped from their chairs, screaming and scrambling for the exits.
“Easy, everyone!” Erin shouted, only to have her words disappear in a coughing fit.
Clint appeared from nowhere and grabbed Dancy. She yelled toward Leo and Mia. “Get out!”
The four of them rushed behind the backdrop and out the stage door, racing into the alley, their eyes watering. Before she
could make sense of anything, Clint took off, running down the alley.
Leo and Mia bent over, coughing and swearing.
Dancy’s brain began to clear. The red and blue smoke .
. . she recognized it. It had come from smoke grenades, the kind photographers she’d worked with used for special effects.
Smoke grenades were harmless when they were handled properly, but too many of them had just gone off in the theater, and they hadn’t been handled properly. This was deliberate sabotage.
In the dim alley light, she saw that Clint had caught whoever he’d been chasing and was dragging him back toward the theater.
The man stumbled, but Clint had too tight a grip on him to allow him to fall.
The sound of sirens filled the air. Clint pulled the man into the glare of the stage door floodlight. “Do you know this asshole?
He was running away down the alley.”
It took only a moment to recognize him. “It’s Shane. Erin’s scum of an ex-boyfriend.”
Shane had lost his beanie. His hair was wild, and his black T-shirt had a jagged rip at the shoulder. “I didn’t do anything!”
he exclaimed, on the brink of tears.
The sirens came closer. Clint grabbed his hands and pulled them into the light. “Then explain this.”
Red and blue powder stains covered his fingers. “It was only a couple of smoke bombs,” Shane cried. “I didn’t hurt anybody!”
Technically true, but he’d sabotaged her show.
Erin came racing around the corner. As she spotted them, an array of emotions played across her face. Relief as she saw Dancy
and the teenagers, confusion when she spotted Shane, and then distress. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Shane, what have you
done?”
“I’m trying to protect you! You shouldn’t be hanging around her. Being part of her strip show!”
“You’re crazy!” Erin turned away from him to regard Dancy with dismay. “I had no idea he’d do anything like this. I can’t
believe it.”
“She kept coming between us!” he wailed. “I was protecting you!”
“You’re sick, Shane,” Erin said coldly. “You need help.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I need you.” Straining against Clint’s grip, he rounded on Dancy. “You turned her
against me! You ruined everything!”
“That’s enough!” Twisting Shane’s arms behind him, Clint perp-walked him around the side of the building toward the approaching
sirens.
Leo and Mia were watching the whole thing with their mouths open. “The show is over,” Dancy said wearily. “I’ll pay you tomorrow.”
The emergency vehicles had arrived, and the teens took off, anxious to watch the action in front of the theater.
“I’m so sorry.” Erin looked as if she’d lost her best friend. “I honestly never imagined he’d do anything like this.”
Dancy hugged her. “Don’t apologize or I’ll cry. It’s over, and no one was hurt.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“You already have. In a hundred ways.” She gave Erin a reassuring squeeze. “Go on. You need to talk to the police.”
With a teary nod, Erin followed the others to the front of the theater. As she disappeared, Dancy filled her lungs with fresh
air and slipped back inside to grab her keys and her phone before the fire department closed everything off. She would get
the rest of her things tomorrow.
The smoke had already begun to clear, but it was too late for her show. It was a sign. Some things weren’t meant to be.
Dancy called Erin as soon as she woke up.
“Shane will be getting a psych evaluation,” Erin told her.
“And they’ve denied bail. Hardly necessary since there’s no one around feeling charitable enough to bail him out.
” Her voice grew unsteady. “I should have realized he was dangerous. I never imagined he’d turn his resentment on you. ”
“We’re both too old to take responsibility for the actions of other people,” Dancy said. “And if you don’t stop apologizing,
I’ll forbid Clint from making any more donations to your school.”
“All those books for my classrooms. I couldn’t believe it.”
“So you told me. But what about the middle school library? The high school library? Cheap bastard.”
Erin laughed, her tension dissolving.
Half an hour later, the fire marshal called to tell Dancy he was closing the theater to conduct a thorough safety investigation.
He refused to commit to a reopening date, noting only that he was short-staffed, and these things took time.
Dancy had no reason to stay. She’d retrieve her costumes, pack her car, and leave. But before she took off, she needed to
see Clint. No more running away without saying goodbye.
The prospect of another long drive across the country made her resentful of Watch, but it wasn’t his fault that the two of
them weren’t flying home in Roth’s private jet. She gave him a doggy treat as an apology and checked her phone.
Roth hadn’t released the video yet, but she suspected he would, even though she hadn’t done the show. He wasn’t used to anyone
defying him, she’d stolen his motorcycles, and he’d want revenge. After last night, she should probably regret not giving
in to his blackmail, but she’d book commercials for adult incontinence diapers before she took anything from him.
She’d finished dressing when there was an impatient knock on the door. She opened it and was shocked to see Bisa standing on the other side. Dancy glowered at her. “It’s too early in the morning for drama, and I’m too tired.”
“You think you’re tired. Try carrying this around!” Bisa barged in. “We should be home by now, but I told him we needed to
stay!” She slumped on the couch. To Dancy’s shock, Watch jumped up and curled next to her. Bisa scratched his head and narrowed
her eyes at Dancy. “I’m doing you a favor, so stop looking at me like I smell bad.”
“You smell fine. It’s your basic character I object to.”
Bisa’s lips curled in a smug smile. “Says the woman who was married to Roth Hardy for years and never figured out how to handle
him.”
Dancy planted a hand on her hip. “Meaning what?”
Bisa’s belly rippled through the thin fabric of her emerald-green jumpsuit. “We both know how egotistical he is, but unlike
you, I figured out how to deal with him.”
The gloves were off. “That’s not exactly a testament to your integrity,” Dancy shot back.
“I care more about results than integrity.” Bisa clasped her belly and grunted.
“You’d better not be in labor!” Dancy cried.
“They’re called Braxton–Hicks,” Bisa said condescendingly. “False labor.”
Dancy knew what Braxton–Hicks meant, and she gritted her teeth. “Tell me what you want and go away.”
Bisa cupped her hands under her abdomen. “I know all about that trashy video. I would never have let him do that to me.”
“Contrary to what he might have told you, I didn’t let him do it to me.”
Bisa dismissed that with a wave. “You should have known he’d try something. His image means everything, and he doesn’t like
the way you keep screwing with it.”
“For a woman who’s supposed to be in love, you don’t seem to have a high opinion of your soulmate’s morality.”
She shrugged and played with Watch’s ear. “Just because he can be a shit doesn’t mean I have to be one, too. I have boundaries.”
“Located where?”
“Wherever I need them! Now that he’s going to be a father, there are some things he shouldn’t do. Besides, you’re my friend,
and I believe in looking after friends.”
Dancy was speechless. “Your friend? Since when?”
“Since I figured out you were in love with Clint Garrett and weren’t trying to get Roth back. Also, the hot tub thing. You
were right.” She caressed Watch’s other ear. “You’ll be happy to know I made sure every copy of that trashy little video was
destroyed.”
“How did you do that?”
“Roth isn’t the only one who can make videos, and I happen to have a few I made of him that he definitely doesn’t want the
general public to see.” She slipped her fists behind her to knead the small of her back. “I mean, who wants to watch a superstar
getting a high colonic enema? Videos like that.”
Dancy regarded her with alarm and fascination. “Who are you?”
“A woman who knows what she wants.” Bisa pulled herself up by the arm of the couch and groaned. “Shit.”
“Are you okay?”
“Does it look like I’m okay?”
“It looks like you might be in labor.”
“Why do you have to be so negative?” Bisa cried.
“Where’s Roth?”
“Sulking in the jet.”
Moisture began dripping down Bisa’s leg. Dancy took her arm and steered her toward the bathroom. “Get in there. I don’t want
your amniotic fluid all over the rug.”
“Fucking insensitive.” Bisa cupped her crotch and waddled inside.
Dancy gazed at Watch. “I can’t believe this, either.”
Dancy fetched Bisa’s phone from the couch. She opened the bathroom door to see her sitting under the “Do Not Flush Toilet
When Train Is in the Station” sign. She looked small, young, and pitiful. “I am not having this baby here!” Bisa wailed. “I
have a reservation at Cedars–Sinai! A two-bedroom suite!”
It was barely eight o’clock, and already Dancy’s day had gone to hell. Although, if Bisa could be believed, the threat of
video exposure was gone. Dancy had to give her grudging respect for that. Some perverse part of her was beginning to like
this awful child.
Dancy passed over her phone. “You need to call him.”
Bisa insisted on leaving the bathroom door open while she attempted to reach her husband. By the time she finally got through
to him, her contractions were coming closer together. She thrust the phone at Dancy. “You talk to him.”