Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
CONNOR
By the time I finish my drink in the lobby of the Limelight Theatre, the place is bustling. Things look good for a successful opening night for Zoe’s show. I’m glad. She and Rachel worked hard on it.
When I enter the theater and move down the aisle toward the front row, Laurelyn’s the first one I see. Her sexy blue-green dress hugs her body in a way that tells me Trick probably picked it out. She’s five months pregnant and wears it well. Anvil’s head appears above the rest when he joins them.
As I approach, Miller’s with me, looking more like Secret Service than C Crue.
He’s wearing a Men in Black suit and talking into a com to other guys we’ve got in town as security.
I’ve put Miller through the paces in the past week by taking part in New York night life and the BDSM dungeon scene.
Back in the day, Trick was a better wingman.
He was also a purveyor of all things wild.
Still, I like the way Miller carries himself, especially on the road.
He’s focused, stays silent except when a situation calls for conversation, and never reacts with surprise, no matter where I go on a night out.
When I reach the front row, I note that Trick’s holding Laurelyn’s hand and telling her some story that has her smiling. His words come back to me. I like to be popular with my wife. I don’t want his life, but I can’t deny that, at the moment, it seems to suit him.
I thought he’d be bored in a month with early nights and the company of a strait-laced and pregnant former Catholic school girl. Boredom, if it’s coming, hasn’t hit him yet.
Anvil nods a greeting at me as I approach.
“No baby tonight?” I ask when I shake Anvil’s hand.
“Not allowed. Too young.” He glances up at the stage, his frown deepening.
“Rachel’s nerves holding up?”
Anvil nods again. “She’s ready.”
I glance around. The theater holds about a thousand people, and the seats are filling fast. My gaze shifts to the stage, and I wonder how Zoe’s doing.
She’s young, but she’s already a veteran performer.
She was in the chorus of an off-Broadway production when she was eighteen, and since then, she’s headlined shows both in college and on the stage at the Langston Theater in Coynston.
That first show she and Rachel wrote was a big hit, drawing most of the town and outsiders too.
Tonight will be the first time I’ve seen Z since she left me. The way I’ve been hitting New York clubs lately is no accident. I’d hoped to run into her without specifically arranging for that to happen.
‘Vil’s phone buzzes, and he takes it out.
Someone’s sent a video of the baby. He plays it with the sound muted.
Irina just seems to be waving and throwing toys across the floor.
The corners of Vil’s mouth quirk into a smile for about ten seconds before his face returns to its resting state. He pockets his phone.
“Who’s with her?”
“A bodyguard and Trick’s sister.”
“The younger one?”
“Baby G,” Anvil says with a shrug of his brows.
So Trick’s let ‘Vil in on the nickname. ‘Vil had already heard the details of the standoff, but since Trick’s sister hadn’t fired the weapon that day, ‘Vil wouldn’t have known about her proficiency until Trick let him in on it. Guess the married guys are talking outside work these days.
“Good babysitter,” ‘Vil adds. “Irina likes her.”
“Keeping it in the C Crue family,” I say with a smile.
I glance around at the throngs of people and then spot Rachel emerge from an area that leads backstage.
Dressed in a long black lace dress and high heels, she hurries over to greet us.
She hugs Trick and Laurelyn who she encounters first. Then she gets to Anvil and me and gives me a hug as well.
My gaze slides Anvil’s way. Apparently he’s relaxed his possessiveness tonight because he doesn’t take a step toward us or pull her his way.
“Sold out on opening night,” I say. “Congratulations.”
Rachel beams up at me. “That’s thanks in part to C Crue money that paid for extra PR. Thank you, C.”
I nod. It wasn’t C Crue money. It was mine. I’d arranged to fund the hiring of an expensive PR company before Zoe left, but I paid the bill after. She sent me a handwritten thank you card, which was nice. It would’ve been nicer if she’d been grateful in person.
Trick was surprised when I said I was coming tonight.
The rest of the crue came in today on a private flight from Boston, but I was already in town.
I’m guessing that in my place, Trick would’ve blown off the show.
When he and Laurelyn broke up years ago, he avoided seeing her or even mentioning her name.
That’s a smart play when the loss is raw and fresh.
Tough to resist the dark urges. There were nights when I came close to having Zoe brought to me.
But it’s been a few weeks now. I won’t lose control.
Rachel moves closer to Anvil as she looks around the theater. She holds out her small hands toward him, and his giant mitts swallow them up.
“I have to go warm up,” she whispers. “I wanted to see you first.”
He kisses one of her hands, then lets go. “I won’t say good luck, because you don’t need it.”
“You’re not supposed to say good luck anyway. You’re supposed to say break a leg.”
“Hmm.”
She smiles. “Not going to say that?”
“No.”
That makes Rachel chuckle and seems to relax her.
“Have you seen any of the rehearsals?” I ask Anvil.
“No, but I’ve heard the music.”
‘Vil and I have each experienced a piece of what’s to come.
I watched Zoe practice as she created the show’s choreography.
I’m curious about how it’ll look with all the other performers on stage.
The other performers… I frown. As much as I love watching Z dance, that’s not my only reason for being here tonight.
I’ve got it in my head that by now she’s fucking some other guy, and I want to know if that’s changed things between us.
I glance at Anvil. He’s been zero use to me in the information department where Zoe’s concerned.
He either doesn’t know what she’s doing, or he doesn’t care to pass it on.
Before Trick got married, he’d have been all over this thing.
I wouldn’t have needed to ask a question. Now his own life is keeping him busy.
“The director invited me to the after party,” I say.
That’s one advantage of bankrolling a specialized public relations firm.
It makes me a patron of the production and confers VIP status.
The director and the production’s money manager invited me to rehearsals and a couple other functions.
Not interested. I want an invitation directly from Zoe.
I’m making an exception tonight because a party’s a different animal.
Z won’t be working. She’ll be celebrating, and we’re good at doing that together.
Heads turn toward me.
Rachel’s brows draw together. “The party will be mostly cast, C.”
“Hmm.” I say. I study her face, which tells me she’s concerned.
That means the odds are good that Zoe’s with a guy in the show.
Anyone but the director’s safe. The director seems all right, but if he invited me to a party to see my ex who he’s fucking, that’s a dick move and I won’t let it slide.
Anyone else though, gets a pass. Unless he’s a dick.
I almost smirk at myself. I’m looking for an excuse.
No violence, I remind myself. That would be counterproductive.
“Okay, I really need to go,” Rachel tells Anvil.
He leans down and gives her a kiss. She squeezes his arm and then turns and hurries away.
About five minutes later, we hear the musicians warming up.
“The orchestra in Boston wants her to audition to play with them,” Anvil says.
“Wow. They’re so prestigious,” Laurelyn says. “Is she thinking of doing it?”
“No. One job is enough.”
“Still that’s exciting. She must be incredibly flattered.”
Anvil’s expression is flat. “It surprised her.” A beat passes. “It shouldn’t.”
Laurelyn smiles. “She’s incredibly talented. I wonder if Irina will play too.”
“Maybe. We got her a keyboard. One for babies. Mostly she bangs her fists on it.”
“Less musical prodigy. More The Who cover band vibe?” Trick jokes.
“What?” Anvil asks.
“The Who. British rock band. Used to destroy their instruments.”
“Destroy their instruments? Idiots,” Anvil says.
A bell chime signals it’s time to take our seats.
Usually at dinners and out as a group, we alternate by gender, but tonight instead of having Laurelyn to my right, Trick’s got that seat. Miller’s behind me, watching for threats. ‘Vil’s on the aisle, always alert to security issues.
I glance over at Trick’s profile. “What’s up?”
“Not a thing,” he says. “So an after party? I’ll come, too.”
My eyes roll. “You sure? That’s past your bedtime, right?”
Trick flashes a smile, untroubled. “Yeah, these days it is. If I get home at three am, I’m not waking up my pregnant wife who has to work in the morning. She needs her rest. So if I want to enjoy what’s in my bed, I need to be there before she falls asleep.”
“Sensible, which is not known as your defining characteristic.”
He shrugs. “Turning over a new leaf.”
“Apparently.”
There have been nights when Trick’s met me out for drinks, but by ten thirty he hits the road.
The asshole’s also got strict rules he made up for himself.
No dungeons, no strip clubs, no time alone with women other than his wife.
When I pressed him about it, he claims Laurelyn doesn’t know about these rules yet, but they’re in place as a precaution against her ever speculating.
He figures there are only a few things that could wreck his marriage and cheating on his part is one of them, so he guards against things she might question.
It amuses ‘Vil that Trick now has rules. I’m not amused.
The two people I consider the most fun to be around when a party’s on are Trick and Zoe.
Having lost access to both means nightlife is not the same these days.
I’ve looked around for distractions, but when I’m with other woman or even playing with one in a dungeon, I’m never satisfied.
The curtain goes up, and my muscles contract with anticipation. I’ve been waiting for this all week.
The music’s eerie, but compelling. Then Zoe appears onstage in a semi-sheer burnt orange lace dress.
I can see the lines of the body I know so well, the curve of her beautiful ass, her gorgeous tits.
Fuck. My thumb and forefinger rub together, remembering the texture of her nipple between them.
My tongue remembers the taste of her skin, too.
For a while, I could still smell her chestnut-scented body wash on my sheets, but that’s been washed away.
She twirls across the stage and leaps into the air to a burst of music. The way she moves is incredible, like she’s got springs in her legs. I’m not the only one who thinks so. The audience’s applause speaks for them, too.
The show’s called Infernal. It’s a modern take on Dante’s Inferno, and it’s reportedly a black comedy. Not sure what old Dante would think about that, but pretty soon it’s apparent what the audience thinks. Excitement crackles in the air, and people are here for it.
The music is a fusion of Latin and Hip Hop, with occasional screams of a violin driving the action to a fever pitch. It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard. At the end of the first act, the audience is on its feet. This is something new, and new for New York is always good.
I don’t clap as long as everyone else because by the mid-point I’m pretty sure I know which dancer Zoe’s fucking, and it’s taking all my will to not walk backstage to kill him during the intermission.