10. Aus
AUS
I’ve been purposefully averting my gaze from East for the last several minutes, ignoring the relentless prickling at the back of my neck. Whatever is happening in that section of my club is something I don’t want to see.
If I were looking, I’d be staring at Thea and Wick. Burning holes into both of them. And while I couldn’t give less of a shit what Wick thinks of me, I don’t want Thea to think I’m obsessed, that she thinks I’m entitled to her.
I’m not entitled. I’m interested.
Very interested.
I’ve taken a lot of deep breaths and thought it through. If they flirt a little, it’s not a huge deal. Wick has to go back to the West eventually. We need Leo on the floor, so it’s not like—
Wait. Fuck.
I approved a half-shift for Wick a few weeks ago. He requested it via email and I allowed it without even thinking. The less time I have to spend in his presence, the better.
But why would he request half the evening off? Social plans? A family obligation? He’s supposed to be back here tomorrow evening, so it’s not like he’s going on vacation or anything.
But if he has a prior obligation, why the hell would he be sticking around Jade? Wouldn’t he take off quickly, give himself plenty of time to get ready for an evening out?
I shift my gaze back toward West. Leo is still manning the bar.
The gaggle of sorority sisters that were fawning over Wick are gone.
Probably because Leo is terrified of women.
He’s a great-looking guy, with a mane of long dirty-blond hair, but he’s always had a difficult time communicating with the opposite sex. Not sure why.
If Leo is on the bar the rest of the night, though, that means Scarlet and Jackie are going to have to cover the rest of the floor by themselves.
Two waitresses alone manning Jade is not nearly enough, but I could only afford to keep three waitstaff on—along with the four bartenders—and stay afloat.
I guess the reason he requested the night off is none of my business. I’m the sap who gave him the go-ahead.
Fuck. Me.
But that means the second Leo took over for him, Wick was off the clock. Why the hell would he choose to stay here?
My heart sinks. There’s one reason single men come to this bar, and it’s not the drinks or the dancing.
It’s the women.
Jade’s a great place to pick them up. We’re not membership based like Aces Underground. Anyone who can afford the cover is welcome within our walls. And that includes a lot of eligible local females.
Eligible local females like Thea Storm.
God damn it!
Wick picks up women at Jade all the time. Normally it’s one of those college-aged girls who ogles him while he preps her Wick-sy Sour. They hang around the bar until closing time and then leave on his arm.
This is different though. Wick got the latter half of the evening off, so it doesn’t make any sense why he’s hanging around.
Maybe Thea Storm is just that damned gorgeous.
She certainly caught my attention.
I’ve never been interested in the vapid Kappa-Beta-Whatevers who Wick normally takes home. This is the first time he’s gone for someone I had my eye on.
Granted, I haven’t had my eye on many women over the last few years. Sure, I’ve hooked up here and there to fill my tank, but Thea is the first woman who’s legitimately piqued my interest since…
Since…
Oh God.
Since Rouge Montrose.
“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“Rouge Montrose. Of the Chicago Montroses?”
I swallow. “I’m not familiar.”
She places a hand against her breast in mock offense. “Goodness. You have much to learn then.” Rouge—that’s seriously her name—crosses her arms. “Do you have a moment to speak?”
“Um… I suppose I do.”
I was going to go home and heat up one of my self-loathing microwave dinners, but I can put that off for a half hour.
I don’t know who this woman is, and I frankly don’t care.
She’s gorgeous, and I’m already getting aroused just looking at her.
There’s an unmistakable allure about her as well, like the fragrance of a Venus fly trap as it seduces an insect into his clutches.
She’s also sticking her tits out, so there’s that.
I’ve always been a boob guy.
She closes the distance between us. “Somewhere private, perhaps?”
Fuck. Is she propositioning me right here and now? I’m usually the one pursuing women, not the other way around.
“My dressing room?” I gesture offstage.
“How about my hotel room?” She slips a key card into my hand. “I’m staying in the Grand Suite at the Bellagio. Are you familiar?”
Am I familiar with the Bellagio? What a question. Of course I am. It’s one of the nicest hotels on the Strip. Spectacular interiors, a huge casino floor with every game you could possibly imagine, and of course the enormous fountain.
“Yes. Yes, I’m familiar.”
“Excellent. I’ll have some bubbly sent up. Shall we go right now?” She runs her long fingernails over my forearm. “My driver is outside.”
She has a driver?
Who is this woman?
And what is she doing at my C-minus magic show?
We get into Rouge’s limo and make the drive to the Bellagio. It isn’t far—the Strip is only a few miles wide total—and she escorts me through the ornate lobby to the elevators up to her luxury suite.
And “luxury” doesn’t do it justice.
It’s like I entered a sprawling estate. I have to look out the window to see the fountain to make sure I didn’t step into a different dimension.
A mosaic floor gleams under a glass chandelier.
A cream-colored sectional sofa sits at the center of the first room, flanked by two oversized club chairs in a deep sapphire.
At the center stands a marble coffee table adorned with a heavy crystal bowl filled with fresh orchids. A limestone fireplace is already lit.
A bucket of ice with a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne sits on the coffee table. Rouge picks it up, rips off the gold foil with her teeth, pops the cork, and pours it into two flutes.
She hands me one. The flute has a design engraved into it. The cardinal directions—East, West, South, North. Interesting. I figured it would be inscribed with the Bellagio’s insignia.
“Are these flutes yours?”
“Oh, yes.” She purses her lips. “I always bring my own glassware with me when I travel. You never know where they’ve been otherwise.”
Okay. That’s weird. But she’s clearly wealthy, if her attire and this suite are any indication. Rich people are often eccentric simply because they can afford to be.
“Do you have the cardinal directions on your glass?” I ask.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Why would I have those?”
“It’s what’s engraved on mine.”
She swishes the champagne in her glass. “Mine features the four card suits. Spades, Diamonds, Clubs, Hearts. I have two other flutes inscribed with other symbols.”
“What are those?”
She furrows her brow. “Do you really want to discuss glassware when we could be discussing your career?”
My career? What the fuck?
Oh, shit. Is she going to offer to finance a big show for me?
Is it going to be a tit-for-tat situation? Like, am I going to have to sleep with her to get it? Sleeping with this woman would hardly be a chore. I’d do it for free. But if I can get a better show out of it while also getting my rocks off…
That’d be a fucking coup.
She gestures to the couch. “Please, sit.”
I take a seat on the couch, and Rouge sits right next to me. She raises her glass. “To possibilities, Mr. Waverly.”
I clink my glass to hers. “To possibilities.”
We both take a sip. It’s a Brut, just the way I like it.
This might be the first time I’m drinking actual champagne. The rest of the time it’s been the cheap shit I get from Vons.
Rouge sets her flute down on the coffee table and turns to face me. “So tell me, Mr. Waverly. What’s your five-year plan?’
“My five-year plan?” I swallow. “To tell you the truth, Ms. Montrose, I’m just trying to get through every week.”
She frowns. “That won’t do. And please, call me Rouge.”
“Okay. You can call me Aus.”
She lifts her eyebrows at that. “An unusual nickname. Most men named Austin don’t go by that.”
“I’m not most men.”
“That much is clear.” She eyes my jaw. “It seems to me, Aus, that you’re foundering. Which is a shame to see in a man of your talents.”
I narrow my eyes. Did she just give me a backhanded compliment?
Again, rich people are often blunt. They don’t need social niceties. People will flock to them for their money alone.
I shrug. “It’s a tough business. Extremely difficult to break into.”
“Magic?” she asks.
I nod. “I’d love to get my show to the next level. I’ve got a good set of tricks.”
“Indeed you do. The house act was simply thrilling.”
“Thank you. I’m proud of that one.”
She leans in. “May I ask how it’s done?”
I smirk. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”
“We’ll see about that.” She smiles, runs her fingers over my thigh. “So tell me. How much of a profit do you make on your shows? Your audiences are rather scant.”
I breathe in. “Yeah, it’s been hard to get people in the theater. Tonight was particularly bad. I normally have at least a dozen people in the crowd. I don’t think I even had ten tonight.”
“Shame. The tourists missed a lovely show.”
“That they did.”
“And if you found yourself with a sudden influx of cash, what would you do?”
I lean back on the couch, doing my best to ignore the death grip Rouge has on my thigh. “I’d move to a bigger theater. One on the Strip. I’d hire more stagehands to make the show go smoother. I’d put more money into advertising as well.”
“All excellent ideas.”
“They are.” I hang my head. “Unfortunately I can’t afford to do any of that. I put as much money as I can into my show. If I invested anything more, I’d have to start skipping meals.”
“Have you considered loans?”
“Yeah. But I have shit credit. I made some ill-advised investments early in my career and lost a lot of money. I had to pay the minimum amount on my credit card bills for a few years. The banks didn’t love that.”
“But you’ve turned your act around?”
“I’ve tried to. I still have quite a bit of debt, but I’m managing it.”
“All while trying to get this show off the ground.” She taps at her chin. “Valiant of you.”
“Either valiant or insane.”
She grins. “Who’s to say those aren’t one and the same?” She removes her hand from my thigh, picks her champagne flute back up, and takes another sip. “I found your show very impressive, Aus. A little unpolished but impressive nonetheless. I’d like to act as an angel investor for you.”
My heart skips a beat. This could change the course of my entire career, my entire life. “Would you really?”
“Indeed.” Another sip of champagne.
“I can’t thank you enough, Rouge. My own parents didn’t even believe in me.”
She pouts her lips. “Your parents?”
I chuckle. “They wanted me to go into law. They were both lawyers. Set up rival firms after their divorce.”
“I’m sorry to hear your parents separated.”
“I barely remember it. I was only four. I had a baby sister who was stillborn. The tragedy exposed a huge riff between the two of them.”
She blinks several times. “Heavens. My condolences.”
“It was years ago. Like I said, I barely remember.”
“That’s a relief.” She places her champagne flute down and returns her hand to my thigh, squeezing gently. “I do have some…notes.”
“Notes?”
“Ways you can improve your performance.”
“I’m all ears.” I lean in, deepen my voice. “I want to do whatever I need to make this partnership between the two of us work.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Music to my ears.” She tightens her grip on my thigh. “My biggest suggestion is for the house act.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “The house act? But that’s my best trick.”
“It is. But even the best things can be improved.” She sears her gaze into mine. “I don’t like the reveal at the end. That the volunteer survives. I think you should make them disappear.”
“How do I reveal that?”
“Lift the house. Look inside the tent. No one is there. No crushed person. They’ve simply vanished.”
“But I already have disappearing acts in my—”
She places a finger against my lips. “I’m speaking. And yes, you have disappearing acts. But the person or object you made disappear always…reappears.” She frowns. “The stakes are too low. Theater is about illusion. You want to shock, to amaze, to inspire awe.”
“But how would I go about—”
“You’ll figure it out. I can help you. I imagine the secret in your house act lies somewhere in the turntable you use, doesn’t it?”
I cock my head. “Like I said, a magician never—”
“Please spare me the platitude.” Her face darkens. “You only use the turntable in one act. You don’t use it, for example, when you saw the lady in half, even though seeing that trick from all angles would also be thrilling. I enjoyed the trick, but the secret was easy to see.”
Damn. She saw right through me. And it took me years to hone that trick.
She tilts my chin up. “I’m not saying it’s a bad trick. Quite the contrary. I’m just an extremely perceptive woman.”
“I see.”
“But if the secret does lie in the turntable, it’s an easy fix. Simply devise a route for the disappeared person to exit the theater. They can reunite with their family after the show.”
“But then why would it matter if—”
“For the theater, Aus!” she shouts as she jumps up from the couch.
“For the drama! The spectacle!” She blinks a few times, dusts off her gown.
“My apologies for the outburst.” She sits back down, crosses her legs.
“I have a friend coming into town in a few weeks. Just in time for your next show, if I understand your schedule.”
“Would you like me to arrange for her to have a ticket?”
“I’ll make the arrangements.” Rouge grabs my hand, rubs her fingers into my palm. “But when it comes time to do your house act, I want you to pick her out of the audience.”
“What’s her name?”
“Don’t worry about the name. I’ll give you a physical description. She may not volunteer when the time comes to do your act, but you must choose her anyway.”
A chill runs down my spine. “Okay…”
“You’ll bring her onto the stage, get her into the tent.” She grabs my wrist. “You’ll drop the house on her, and then…”
“Then what?”
She grips my wrist with so much strength that her nails dig into my skin. “And then, Austin Waverly, she must disappear.”