Chapter Thirty-Two
Eve sat in her car at the very edge of the parking lot outside the Gilded Garden, observing the utter chaos from a distance.
A line of people waited to get inside and more were on the way, headlights appearing every other minute at the entrance to
the lot. Some patrons were being interviewed by women in sleek pantsuits holding microphones, their cameramen close behind.
She cracked the driver’s-side window, catching the faint twang of a stand-up bass coming from inside the club. Presumably,
the All-Nighters were warming up, preparing for their big fundraiser performance, but the clientele in line were such a mixture
of ages, Eve deduced a lot of them were here to catch a glimpse of Bad Madden’s kissing partner.
They were going to catch a whole lot more than a glimpse.
Exhaling through her nose, Eve sank farther into the seat and watched the lights flicker on the Gilded Garden sign, trying with all her might to breathe through the emptiness.
After a tearful goodbye, the kids were gone.
Just like that. On the road to North Carolina.
She’d softened the blow of their abrupt parting by explaining they needed to go on an adventure and report all the cool details to her in a weekly phone call.
Thankfully, their excitement over seeing their mom cushioned the sudden separation for them, but Eve herself was adrift.
The fact that they could disappear from her everyday life with so much speed proved they’d never really been hers to begin with, right?
Just when it had started to feel like they were. Hers.
Her phone buzzed in her lap, but she didn’t bother looking at the screen, her gaze still fastened on the flickering sign.
Madden would be calling again. He had to stop eventually, though. A few hours ago, she might have been inclined to answer
and talk through the reasons they needed to go their separate ways, but her grief over watching the kids vanish at the end
of the driveway had left her lethargic.
Well, if she was going to give the performance of a lifetime, she needed to buck up. The public wanted her flesh and her soul
and all her secrets? She’d hand them over in a way she chose. In a way she controlled. And her performance in front of all these lookie-loos would be the nail in the coffin on her relationship with
Madden. Let the customers take their pictures, let the cameras roll. Post her all over the internet. Drive home the fact that
she was bad for him. She was bad for everyone.
That she’d briefly thought otherwise during their night in Manhattan was laughable now. Look at the circus they’d attracted.
If she remained married to Madden, the attention would only lead to more stories about her. Madden, a good man, would become
the butt of a joke by association and Eve couldn’t bear it. This marriage needed to be over.
It ended tonight.
Eve yanked down the visor and flipped open the mirror, checking the balance of her cat eyes, running a pinkie finger beneath the red curve of her bottom lip.
Her distant gaze alarmed her enough to give her pause, but ultimately, she slipped on her black stilettos and climbed out of the car, inhaling the spring breeze that blew her loose hair back, that same wind ruffling the silver fringe of her skirt.
Last, she checked the laces of her black corset top . . . and started to strut.
Bedlam didn’t break out until Eve was nearly at the pathway leading to the front entrance, then every head seemed to turn
simultaneously, cameras pointing in her direction. Three reporters bounded over and shoved their microphones in her face,
asking the questions she’d anticipated.
Will Madden Donahue be in attendance tonight?
What is your exact relationship to the catcher?
Is it true he disapproves of the club?
Why take your clothes off when you’re married to a Yankee?
Eve continued to walk, staring straight ahead and not answering a single one of their questions, some part of her knowing
they just wanted words to twist. A sound bite. She wouldn’t reward them for dragging her and Madden into the public eye, though.
At least not like this. She’d give them the payoff of her own choosing onstage.
It wasn’t until one of the reporters asked an unexpected question that her step faltered, the oxygen turning icy in her lungs.
“Is it true you donated a kidney to Madden Donahue?”
Was it all in her head the way everything went silent? The woman who’d asked the question had done it quietly, but it caused
the other two reporters to whip their heads around, their surprise obvious. Eve’s heart kicked into a gallop, then a sprint,
her mouth going as dry as cotton. How . . . how did they know that? How could anyone know that?
As of now, it appeared to be a mere suspicion, but how long would that last?
A camera flash to Eve’s right broke her out of her stupor and she propelled herself into motion once again, speed walking blindly past the line and bouncer, into the packed club, taking in everything at once with the eye of an owner.
Thank god she’d called in extra bar staff and waitresses. They had the crowd handled. Some patrons were seated, but the audience
was standing room only, and she even recognized some faces from town. From the past. Good. Might as well burn her reputation
all the way down. She didn’t have to worry about fallout on the kids anymore, did she?
Ignoring all the sudden attention on her, Eve traded a thumbs-up with Veda, who was onstage doing a sound check. Eve wove
through the tables as quickly as possible, releasing a sigh of relief when the dark backstage area enveloped her. Even that
stale hint of ancient musk was welcome. She sat down in one of the tufted performers’ chairs and stared at her reflection
in the mirror, the reporter’s question replaying itself in her head.
Is it true you donated a kidney to Madden Donahue?
That was it. Her final layer of what she could control was gone. Torn away.
How soon until he found out? How was he going to react?
Desperate for something to do with her hands, Eve pulled open one of the vanity drawers and located a pair of long black silk
gloves, drawing them on jerkily.
“Eve?”
She turned her head to find Elton was backstage now, approaching her cautiously.
“Hey, Elton. I didn’t know you were coming.” Her laugh was a touch hysterical. “You’re about to get to know me a whole lot
better.”
“Yeah,” he said, scratching his chin. “You’re really performing, are you?”
“Yup.”
“Look, I’m not the right person to have this talk with you, but my sister is in Boston and you’re not answering her calls.
Madden is in traffic ready to commit heinous acts of violence to get here. Veda is . . .” He gestured to the curtain. “Out
there. So, it’s just me and I’m playing big brother, whether you like it or not.”
Eve leaned toward the mirror to spread around her glittering eye shadow, which had started to gather in the crease of her
eyelid. “Fire away, Elt.”
He shifted in his boots. “It has been a wild forty-eight hours. A lot of changes for you. A lot of lies being told about you
and Mad—and that’s not fair, Eve. But I’m worried all this upheaval is making you perform tonight for the wrong reasons, you
know? You want to do burlesque in front of all these people because you enjoy it? Fine. Madden will be pissed off, but he’ll
get over it. Now, if you’re performing because everything is blowing up in your face and you want to add some kerosene, that’s
a different story.”
Being called out so accurately burned. “I’ve been a pariah since you’ve known me.”
“My family has never seen you that way,” Elton said. “In fact, a lot of families in this town see you for the amazing person
you are. It’s just the law of the land that assholes are always the loudest.”
“I know. I know that.” Eve took a breath. “You might not understand this, but the only way to salvage my pride is to lean
into that image now. I have to own it and show them I don’t give a fuck what they think.”
“You don’t have to do anything. In fact, do nothing. Let the dust settle.”
“It’s never going to settle for me.”
Elton opened his mouth to respond, but the All-Nighters chose that moment to start playing, the sound of deep, plucky bass
filtering in through the heavy velvet curtain. Out of necessity, Elton came closer, presumably to continue their conversation.
But when Veda started to sing, he stopped in his tracks, looking like he’d been struck by a bullet between the eyes. “Is that . . .
that’s Veda.”
Studying his face, Eve nodded. “She’s really good, right?”
Elton took a few steps and turned to lean back heavily against the wall, his chin dropping down toward his chest. “No. She’s
amazing.” He raked a hand through his hair, letting it fall to his side, listening to her croon the chorus, start to finish.
“I said something stupid and she overheard it. Now she won’t even look at me. I didn’t realize how much I need her to look
at me until she stopped doing it.”
“Aren’t you taking her sister out tonight?”
“She’s here,” he said, sounding numb. “She’s at the bar.”
“Jesus, Elton.” Eve shook her head. “You’re the one who needs some advice.”
“Hit me.”
Eve never got the chance, because the All-Nighters finished their first song with a blistering high note from Veda. And before
they could launch any further into the set list, Veda stumbled through the opening in the curtain, Situation Smith hot on
her heels.
“What’s wrong?” Veda asked him.
“What’s wrong?” Smith advanced rather menacingly into Veda’s space, poking her hard in the chest with his index finger. “You’re showing
off on purpose.” A shove of Veda’s shoulder. “You’re so fucking selfish—”
Eve was already on her feet, readying to knock the kid’s head right off its block, but there wasn’t a chance for her to intervene.
In the blink of an eye, Elton’s hand manacled Smith’s throat, ripping him completely out of Veda’s orbit.
With a sound Eve had never heard come from a human being before, Elton lifted the guy clean off the ground and body-slammed him to the floor, getting right in his face.
“Believe me, I was looking for any excuse to beat the shit out of you. Any excuse except you putting your fucking hands on her,” Elton said through his teeth. “And you looked so comfortable doing
it, I’m not even going to let you off with a warning. You don’t deserve one.” A right cross caught the musician in the nose,
the crunch of cartilage leaving no room for speculation—that nose was broken. His agonized wail was further proof. “Touch
her again and I’ll break every bone in your fucking body.”
For once, Veda appeared to have nothing to say, standing stock-still and regarding the scene before her with an expression
of confused shock. Eve moved to stand behind her friend, wrapping an arm around her shoulders from behind. “Oops,” Eve murmured.
“Looks like you have to finish the set on your own.”
Eve’s remark didn’t get the desired laugh, but at least she’d tried.
Elton stood slowly, shaking out his fist. “Are you okay?” he asked Veda, voice gravelly, his gaze so packed full of yearning,
Eve felt compelled to look away to give them some privacy.
“As okay as I can be, I guess,” said Veda quietly. “For a living, breathing headache.”
Wincing, Elton came forward. “I didn’t mean that, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart when you picked my sister.” She huffed a humorless laugh. “Everyone always does.”
“I didn’t pick her, babe,” Smith protested from his bleeding sprawl on the floor.
“Shut the fuck up, Smith,” everyone shouted at the exact same time.
Smith rolled over onto his side and curled up in the fetal position.
“You set me up with your sister,” Elton said, throwing up his hands. “What was that? Some kind of test?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I was hoping you’d be different.” Veda looked down at her hand, as if surprised to find herself still
holding the wireless microphone. “I’m going to pick myself from now on. Because if I don’t pick myself, no one will.”
“Veda . . .” Elton rasped.
But she was already gone, stomping back onstage with a countdown for the band and belting the opening lyric, which just happened
to be “That man’s no good.”
Elton remained rooted to the ground for a beat, his head tipped forward, then he moved without warning toward the back exit,
kicking it open and disappearing into the night. Deeming the sobbing man on the ground harmless, Eve sat down and waited for
her turn to take the stage.