Chapter 27
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Mercer
The next few nights of work were miserable.
I could hardly bring myself to look at Darby, much less hold a meaningful conversation.
And as desperately as I wanted to take him out somewhere or bring him home with me at the end of every shift, I couldn’t shake the fear that he would sense my imminent betrayal.
I didn’t want Darby to think the change in my behavior was about him, or worse, to feel some distance between us when we should have been closer than ever. So I kept up appearances as best I could.
I chatted, and smiled, and touched his hand in passing. For that, he rewarded me with the most stunning smiles, and I felt guiltier than ever.
It was almost enough to make me regret coming here in the first place.
What would have happened if I hadn’t spoken to him that day at the Basilica?
Just showed him the door and went on about my business?
I had reached the point of lamenting what might have been the best sex of my life because it had created a bond I couldn’t bear to see broken.
I was going to lose him.
It was practically a foregone conclusion.
I would hurt him, and I would lose him, and then he’d be wishing like I was that I’d stayed the hell out of his life.
But then there was Molly, someone else I was desperate to get close to, and Rachel had finally agreed to open the door. I didn’t dare warn her there might be a threat to our daughter’s well-being because that would only fuel her belief that I was an unfit father, and I would lose Molly too.
I couldn’t risk her. Not for myself or my happiness, not even for Darby. And that ached.
It ate at me for days until the deadline Antonella had set was uncomfortably near.
Darby was a planner; he wouldn’t appreciate me springing the idea of a company outing on him at the last minute. With the grand reopening only three days away, if I didn’t mention taking some time off now, it wouldn’t happen until after the big night, and that would be too late.
We had about an hour till open, and the club floor was alive with the usual pre-show chaos. Onstage, Zephyr hung upside down from his silks while Beck stood by, supervising or pretending to.
Across from them, Oz and Elliot were up to something that hovered between practice and play. Oz had Elliot hoisted overhead like a cheerleader while the smaller demon balanced in a handstand. Elliot’s limbs stretched in elegant lines, and his tail wound around one leg.
I was waiting for Darby. Searching, but not too hard, because I would have liked to delay this forever.
I had yet to spot him when the twins came tearing across the floor like a human tornado, narrowly missing every table and chair in their path.
Within moments, their scuffle turned into a tango—Colt leading and Callum laughing while being dragged along.
The tone around here, as Colette had said, was happy. The dolls were full of sunshine, and I was the storm cloud about to rain all over their parade.
Colt and Callum were too caught up in each other to notice me, and I must have stopped watching them too, because the next thing I knew, I was flat on the ground with both of them piled on top of me, a squirming heap of cowboy boots and leather.
Callum’s head swung close, the tips of his horns grazing past my face as he rolled off. Colt was already on his feet and reseating his Stetson before I found the sense to move.
They flanked me a moment later, each offering a hand up—mirror images wearing matching grins, though Callum’s was slightly more apologetic than Colt’s perpetual smirk.
I let them pull me up, making sure to get the foot of my prosthetic firmly planted so I didn’t lose my balance again.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Colt drawled. “Gettin’ warmed up before things get hot, if y’know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” I said, brushing dust off my shirt. “I got it.”
Callum watched me, considering, before his expression turned mischievous. “Are you lookin’ for Darby?”
“Actually,” I began. “I had a question for you two.”
Callum tipped his head, and Colt hiked a brow.
I hadn’t thought much about what I would suggest. A “day off” was too vague to be tantalizing and would likely lead to at least a few of the dolls wasting time lazing about the club. If I wanted them out of the building, I’d have to lure them away.
After a moment’s hesitation, I launched my pitch. “Do you guys like games?”
Colt’s expression flatlined. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Darby already sold us on the Clue thing. So far, it ain’t as much fun as he made it sound.”
“No, not like that.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I mean arcade games. Skee-Ball, Cruisin’ California, that sort of thing. It’s been a while since I’ve been to one, but they used to be fun.”
Arcades were all the rage when I was in high school—sticky floors and neon lights, everything smelling like sugar and grease.
The twins weren’t quite that young, though.
I’d guess them to be in their early twenties, closer to college than high school.
The guys I knew when I was that age had other ideas of fun.
“There’s a place down the Strip,” I added. “Has a nice bar.”
Colt snorted. “Why would we go somewhere we have to pay for booze? We get it free here.”
Beck and Zephyr strode past, arm in arm. Neither slowed as Beck called back, “No you don’t!”
Colt watched them go then muttered, “Shows what he knows.”
“Maybe.” I tried again. “It could be a team-building thing? So everyone can, you know… bond.”
Callum shot his brother a look of hopeful enthusiasm, and while I might have won him over, Colt narrowed his eyes.
“You think we don’t bond?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that,” I started, but Callum snatched his brother’s hat and slapped him on the shoulder with it.
“Lay off him, Colt. It does sound like fun.”
Colt recovered his Stetson and tugged it on before jerking a thumb toward his twin. “I helped him shave his balls last week. How’s that for bonded?”
The sharp click of high heels cut through the din, and my head turned on instinct. Darby was rounding the stage with a slow strut of an approach.
The man could do no wrong when it came to his wardrobe. Tonight, he’d donned a pair of white satin panties and a top made entirely of strands of pearls. They hung from a halter-style top and swayed across his chest as he sashayed over to us.
I had to clench my jaw to keep it from falling open and letting the drool leak out.
“Everybody knows you two are up each other’s asses,” Darby told Colt. “And you wouldn’t have to shave if you waxed like the rest of us.”
Darby came alongside me and slipped his arm around my waist. The sudden proximity had me sweating and aching anew, and I couldn’t resist placing my hand on the bare small of his back where my thumb brushed the base of his tail.
“Fuck that.” Colt shook his head. “Hot wax and ripping your hair out by the root? That’s the kinda Hell shit we don’t have to put up with anymore.”
Elliot and Oz descended from the stage just in time to overhear the cowboy’s complaint.
Elliot tugged a black hoodie over his head and then looked over, red eyes glinting. “They waxed you in Hell?” he asked. “Which ring was that, exactly?”
Darby’s laugh was bright enough to make even the club lights seem dull. “Beauty is pain, cowpoke,” he told Colt, whose chest swelled with a haughty breath.
“I don’t need beauty; I got grit,” Colt huffed. “Like the Marlboro man. Nothing says sexy like—”
“Lung cancer?” Darby supplied then peeled away from me to call toward where Oz and Elliot were loitering. “Speaking of… Elliot?”
The pole dancer had just finished flicking a lighter to the tip of the cigarette pinned between his lips. He drew down on it, filling his lungs then expelling smoke in a perfect series of rings.
“Take it out back,” he muttered while helping himself to another drag. “I know. I’m on my way.”
Elliot turned to go, but Darby called after him.
“Actually, wait. I got you something.”
He trotted toward them, and I lost myself for a moment in the movement of his hips and the pearls rolling across his flawless umber skin.
Squeezing in between Oz’s hulking form and Elliot’s shorter, leaner one, Darby fished into the tiny clutch bag he’d been carrying. A brief search yielded a little black box, which he handed over.
“What’s this?” Elliot asked while lifting the lid.
“A vape pen,” Darby replied. “Very trendy. Very cool. And it smells like cotton candy instead of death.” His smile was playful, but the gift was undeniably sincere.
Oz leaned in to peer at the box’s contents. He seemed to approve, but Elliot just frowned.
“Cotton candy?” he asked flatly.
“And Blue Razz and Sticky Bunz.” Darby indicated each flavor in the package, then propped his hands on his hips and preened. “It’s a sampler pack.”
The cigarette smoldered in the corner of Elliot’s mouth as his eyes darted between Darby and the vape.
“Or…” Darby pointed at the cigarette. “You can take that out back.”
Elliot’s lips twitched around the cigarette, then he sighed, snapped the box shut, and stuffed it into the pocket of his hoodie. Without another word, he turned and headed for the rear of the building.
Oz watched him go before offering Darby a shrug.
“You think he would’ve preferred Vanilla Cream Dream?” Darby asked him.
“Maybe.” Oz shrugged his broad shoulders again.
The two of them drifted back over to where Colt, Callum, and I stood, and Darby wasted no time reclaiming his spot at my side.
His body nestled against mine, drawing mildly interested glances from the other dancers, which intensified when Darby pushed up on his already high heels and tugged me down for a peck of a kiss.
The brush of his lips lit me up. My cheeks heated, and Darby smiled. When his thumb came up to wipe at my mouth, the gesture was so casual and affectionate that I was left speechless until he posed the next question.
“What were you boys talking about besides body waxing?”
This was the hard part. I’d hoped to pass this job off to the twins. Let it be their idea. Or Oz’s. Anyone’s but mine so when the blade of blame dropped, it would fall on someone else’s neck.
Darby wouldn’t stay mad at the other dolls.
He wouldn’t kick them out.
He wouldn’t break their hearts.
“Mercer thinks we should go to an arcade,” Callum offered cheerfully.
“To pay for booze and bond,” Colt added, less cheerfully.
“An arcade?” Darby glanced at me. “What for?”
“A day off.” I hated the way the words rolled off my tongue. “You deserve more than one.”
Darby mulled over the idea briefly before agreeing. “You’re right, I do. After the grand reopening.”
“Why not before?” I pushed, railing against my better judgment and his. “We should celebrate. You’ve been working hard.”
The others deferred to him as he pondered, and I gave the idea one last nudge.
“We could invite Mister Beckett and Colette too. Close the building for the afternoon and cut loose.”
At that, Darby’s pleasant look twisted into a smirk. “I think I’d like to see you cut loose, Mercy.”
My ears burned as he made a show of thinking it over. His lips pursed, and he looked between the twins, then at Oz, who tried and failed to hide a grin.
“Hmm. I could use an afternoon out. And if Mercy’s so eager for me to take one…” He leaned in, chest pressing into my side and tail snaking up my back. He searched my face for the reassurance I struggled to give.
My lopsided smile didn’t hold up to scrutiny, but Darby was on the spot now, and he wouldn’t disappoint the dolls.
“Fine,” he relented. “One day. Before the reopening.”
Oz and Callum cheered, and Colt gave a half-hearted whoop before joining in the chatter. Voices overlapped, and plans spilled out faster than I could process. What they’d wear, what they’d play, and who would beat whom.
After a few seconds, I grew deaf to it. My thoughts were too loud, crowding in on themselves and coupling with worry. It should have been a good thing. Something as innocent as they were.
But the unease wouldn’t relent.
I glanced around the club, scanning the fittings and furnishings and seeing Darby’s touch in every detail.
I could sense Antonella’s shadow looming, ready to foul this home the way they had mine.
Find the weak spots and exploit them. Mine had been a photo on the fridge.
Who knew what they would dig up given an uninterrupted afternoon in the Dollhouse?
The twins and Oz darted off with a fleeting comment about pitching the idea to upper management while I shifted in place, removed from the moment until the tip of Darby’s tail tickled the nape of my neck and stirred me to attention.
“Good idea, Mercy.” He stepped around in front of me, taking my hands in his before flashing a coy smile. “But I’ll warn you, taking this bunch out in public might be more than you bargained for.”
“I like them,” I blurted, not sure why I said it except that I needed him to know.
Darby seemed thrown for half a second before laughter softened his face. “Well good,” he said, still amused. “I just mean they’re excitable. May require some handholding, and I’ve only got two.” He wiggled his fingers in my grasp to prove it.
“You want my help?” Fresh pain speared through my heart.
“Do what you do best, honey.” His thumbs brushed over my knuckles as he spoke. “Keep an eye out and make sure everyone steers clear of trouble.”
“Yeah. Of course.” The words came out quiet, almost buried by the weight building in my chest. Pulling free of him, I cleared my throat and forced a steadier tone. “I’m gonna give the place one last check before we open. Wanna be sure everything’s ready.”
Darby didn’t argue, but I felt his gaze on me all the same. It followed as I walked off, swallowing nerves and nausea and trying to find the part of myself that had first learned to march. Steady, straight ahead, and sometimes directly into the line of fire.