Elle
“Well?” I ask Hale, who’s staring at the twenty-seven grand banded into multiple stacks in his lap with bloodshot eyes.
He’s looking from the rolls to his phone and then to me on a circuit. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head because money’s more important to him than loyalty right now. It’s right in front of him, and Gant…well, he’s a text message away, and yet, it’s obvious Hale hasn’t got a reply. And I’m betting that he’ll be desperate enough to choose me over Gant. For now.
I’d repeatedly overheard Hale refusing to ask his mother for a loan. When I applied to be a bartender, Stassi and I caught the tail end of him venting about it to his only employee, Rie Rie. Then again, when we arrived, and he was finishing up a heated conversation with who Rie mouthed was ‘his mother’ far too loudly.
Then there’s the rest of the horsemen who have no faith in his shitty club that’s meant to open in a matter of days. But I do. Well, I have the faith of a mustard seed.
I shift on the mustard, moth-eaten couch now and remind myself not to rub the tiredness from my eyes, lest I get pink-eye on top of everything else. Despite being bedridden for the past four days, I’m tired. Restless. Because while I have a plan, I don’t have a backup. And I can’t truly rest until I secure the next step.
Hale has to accept my offer because twenty-seven grand could be gone in a year on rent alone, but as an investment with Beaulieu’s brand-new king? It could mean the difference between several months of budgeted comfort or an empty bank account now that’ll grow fatter each month with the amount of money Beaulieu’s king could rake in…that we could rake in. And that’s what everything comes down to: money . I can’t beat anything or anyone in this world without it.
Not homelessness. Not my medical care. Not Gant.
In Hale’s case, it's not his social circle he’s fighting tooth and nail to break out of.
He picks up a wad of cash and rolls it between his fingers contemplatively.
“I know that money is nothing to you usually,” I say, not under any delusions that it’ll solve all his problems.
He probably wiped his ass with more each month, well, before his pride got in the way.
“But it’s a lot to you.” He arches a brow. “Where did you get it?”
But we both already know. He may not know the specifics, but he knows Gant’s involved in some capacity. But Stassi doesn’t.
I really was an uncultured swine before Rin showed me her scheming ways because I’d never pegged Stassi Beaumont as one of thee Beaumonts. As in Beaumont Diamonds. I’d hoped she’d have good connections, but the discovery of her family’s three-level empire downtown far exceeded my expectations.
To Gant, the gorgeous marques ring was probably nothing, just a replica of the props department’s fake ring. To me, though, it was perfect. The perfect size, cut and sparkle.
My finger itches from a phantom touch of Gant sliding the ring onto it. Everything had felt so surreal at that moment, and I should’ve understood right then and there that it was just a fantasy.
I tear my eyes away from the rolled notes I’d got in exchange for my dream ring. I’d never seen that amount of cash in person before, much less held it for the twenty minutes that it took to get to Libellule. And as fast as a blink, it was out of my palms.
But it’s the best investment I could make. Not a ring that could only sit pretty.
An investment on Gant’s dime, my inner voice taunts. You’ll always be tied to him. Even when you collect that three hundred grand for outing the driver, it’ll still be just another financial connection to the Auclairs.
But then I’d be able to cut the ties afterward, for good. I’d been so against using Gant’s money before and now it’s a stepping stone to get the fuck away from him, and Jaime and this town with all its bad memories.
“Does it matter? You need investors, no matter how small.” I glance around the dank room. “It doesn’t seem like anyone else has come through, and your grand opening is in nine days, right?”
Hale can get investors. It’s his pride that won’t let him look outside his horsemen. Including his horseman’s sister, who’s sitting right beside him. Stassi.
Hale’s baby blues shift to the peeling wallpaper near my head.
“No one else has come through,” I confirm, based on his expression alone. “But I’m right here, and I’m ready to turn this place into what you’ve been dreaming of.”
Hale says nothing. His eyes are like hollow tunnels stretching so far into the recesses of his mind that I know he’s not really present.
“I really want to have my birthday party here,” Stassi says softly, and his eyelashes flutter as his gaze cuts to her because suddenly, he’s listening. Intently .
I look at their joined knees, touching toes, and constant physical connection because Hale always ensures it. Even if it’s just his arm around her chair, his fingers playing with the ends of her long blonde hair that only her stylist is allowed to touch.
“You know my family’s rule. I can only go if Zedd does. And Zedd won’t agree to have our eighteenth birthday here if it still looks like this.”
Hale’s shoulders deflate.
He and Zedd were supposedly besties, but I felt the strain between them the few times Gant managed to force me onto his lap and amongst his friends. The biggest stress point between them is who Hale is obsessed with. Who Hale would do anything for, besides take her money.
Diamonds aside, it's why I ensured Stassi came with me. She’s his weakness and my voice of reason.
“Besides,” Stassi says, her amber eyes wide and molten as she peers up at him. “You said you’d grant me three birthday wishes. Whatever I want, you’ll give it to me, right?”
Hale doesn’t hesitate as a raspy whisper leaves his lips. “ Right. ”
Three wishes? Of anything Stassi wants? My mind can’t begin to comprehend what’s on her list.
“Well, having my party here is the first one, and time’s running out, Haley.”
Hale swallows in beat to the nickname rolling off of her tongue. “Gant will kill me, Stas.”
“Won’t he kill you either way when you miss your grand opening for Stassi and Zedd’s birthday bash?” I ask. “You said he helped you buy this place. I’m sure he wants a return on his investment too, even if he’s unwilling to give you more money.”
“She has a point,” Stassi says, squeezing his knee, and his eyes fly to the contact.
“Gant will find out.”
“So let him find out after he’s already made back half of his money in one night. You know the crowd Zedd and I can pull in. I’ll promote it all over my profiles with some edits.”
Stassi’s ballroom dancing clips in her skimpy, shimmery outfits are Bradley for Boys’ favourite pastime. And apparently mine, because she’s always jiggling beautifully across my main feeds.
But Stassi’s promise to deliver a crowd isn’t as intriguing as she thinks. Darkness blooms in Hale’s baby blues, turning them nearly navy. Something tells me he doesn’t give a fuck about a crowd if Stassi’s the main attraction.
“Let help you too,” Stassi goes on obliviously. “You already promised her a spot as a bartender.”
Hale peels his eyes away from her for his own sanity and refocuses on me. “When she could walk. I don’t think dissolving our agreement is unreasonable, considering.” He looks pointedly at my wheelchair beside the couch. “Are you returning to Beaulieu after the break?”
That question haunted me every waking hour. How would I keep the fake scholarship I didn’t deserve if I couldn’t dance? Would Beaulieu give me the four weeks the doctor suggested before I was allowed en pointe again?
What would happen once I went en pointe again?
Gant potentially ruined my dance career, but I would ruin it myself if I didn’t return.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask, pushing my shoulders back. “I’m not afraid of Gant like you. Of course I’m going. Come what may.”
Hale sucks his teeth, but our showdown is cut short by tinkling glass behind the bar. Rie Rie, who’s been around since the old club’s inception in the sixties, is attempting to mix some drinks.
Stassi jumps to her feet with a grimace. “I’ll help her while you hash out the details. Last time, she offered me a shot of dish soap.”
“No drinks for Stassi, Rie,” Hale bellows after reluctantly releasing her. He’d been swirling the ring on her middle finger as she clung to his knee. “It’s nine days until her birthday.”
“Hale—”
“My club, my rules, angel. No drinking. Not yet.”
“Not here if you don’t take ’s offer. It’d be nice to have my first taste, here, with you.”
It takes Stassi’s ass disappearing behind the bar for Hale to spare me a second glance.
“You know,” I say, leaning forward and lowering my voice. “I want the same things you do.”
He chuckles, a slow, rich laugh that tells me how far apart he thinks our wants are. “How would you know what I want?”
“You want to improve your social circles because it means getting closer to Stassi. Not physically closer, but socially, acceptably closer.”
He freezes, his stubbly jaw ticking.
“You want an improved, elevated reputation. I want that too. I’m sick of being the poor bitch reliant on Gant Auclair’s deranged version of generosity. I can’t rely on my mother, who only disappoints me, and depending on minimum wage won’t get me a comfortable life. So, we both want better circumstances, and I want it the same way you do, by standing on my own two feet.”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” he asks, tossing back the last of his drink and eyeing my bandaged feet.
“My mum won ten grand with a scratcher,” I blurt. “She lost it within a month. You probably floss your teeth with more than twenty-seven grand under normal circumstances, but this may be the most money I ever touch in one day, and I don’t want to waste it like she did. I can be comfortable years from now if you let me invest with you.”
“What?” Hale cocks his head. “You think a small stake now could set you up financially later to improve your social standing? Do you think it’ll help you with the Auclairs if you aren’t just little miss no one?”
I nearly choke on my saliva. “Fuck Gant, his circles and his family’s acceptance. I don’t care about where I’m standing. That’s you. I just care that I’m standing strong. On my own.”
Hale cracks an ice cube between his teeth and crunches on it.
“Make me a partner. I’m worthy because I’m here. Where are your horsemen that you’re fighting to stay loyal to? Because I don’t see Gant anywhere.”
He picks up another roll of cash. “Where did you get this money?”
“I robbed a bank,” I deadpan.
“I did that once,” Rie Rie says, her signature six-inch pleather thigh-highs gouging into the hardwood. She’s carrying a tray with two drinks that thankfully look clean, thanks to Stassi’s help. “But there was no money, just rows and rows of cans. So many cans you could feed an entire army.”
“Was it a food bank, Rie?” Hale asks, accepting his drink with scepticism.
“I don’t know,” she says, looking contemplative through her Coke-bottle glasses. “I never got a can opened in time before the coppers came.”
As she clomps off and Hale sighs into his glass, I say, “Who have you got besides Rie Rie?”
He presses the power button on his phone, and his face is bathed in a soft blue glow that vanishes a second later because no one’s messaged him back. “You, apparently,” he says begrudgingly, and my hope swells. “We start first thing tomorrow.
“Great,” I say, trying to keep my tone measured and not desperate as overwhelming relief courses through my veins. “Is there a spare bedroom, or will Rie Rie mind me bunking with her?”
It’s Hale’s turn to choke. “Who said you could stay here?”
My expression falters. “It’d make the most sense. We only have nine days. We’ll be working into the early hours just to catch up.”
“Is that the only reason? Or is it that you have nowhere else to go? Why not by Stassi?”
“Maybe the same reason why you won’t accept her money. Pride. I need to prove something to myself. If I’m here, it’s for the club’s benefit. I’m not just mooching. That’s what I’ll be doing to Stassi, and I think you can understand the desperate desire of not wanting to be a mooch.”
Hale shakes his head slowly.“Gant will kill me.”
“He’s already tried to kill me, and I’m still here.”
Hale looks… remorseful …
“It’s just ten days before we return to Beaulieu. I can keep a secret for ten days, can’t you? You’ve been keeping one for as long as you’ve known Stas.”
Hale grabs my untouched drink on the tray, his eyes trained on Stassi, who’s pulling down the glasses Rie’s just replaced.
“Ten days only,” he says finally. “But I’m not hiding you. When Gant finds you, he keeps you.”