Harper
“Ithink this dress will always be my favorite,” coos Sadie from behind me, tightening the last bit of red silk strands that thread through the strapless corset, weaving together to sit in a long bow at the center of my back.
It’s also my favorite ensemble to wear at Cirque, the only piece of clothing I had made to emulate one of the stage performances.
The frame of the dress is a corseted body suit, red silk sheets of fabric flaring out from the front and back of my waist to flow towards the ground, leaving a gap up to the hip at each side.
Without knocking, the door to my office opens and Colton strides in, clad in the typical Cirque attire, black slacks and white pressed shirt with gold clasped suspenders, his coat discarded earlier in the night.
He only makes it one step into the office before he halts, eyes starting at my stilettoed feet and trailing up, following the slit in the dress from the hint of thigh up to the form fitted bust.
He finally makes his way up to my eyes and his jaw tenses, arms loosely hanging at his sides, but hands flexing and relaxing on repeat.
“I’ll be right back,” he calls, pivoting and bolting out the door. I laugh and Sadie gives me a puzzled look.
“Well, that was fucking rude, he could have at least told you how hot you look,” she scoffs, walking around to my side and looking after the door. “Which you do by the way, look stunning I mean,” she beams at me.
I really didn’t want to like Stella, but I have to admit that having her as a close friend and confidant has certainly helped Sadie see light through this dark cloud.
Her face has gained back its glow, and her presence radiates warmth again.
The admiration stops there as she upends a box of multicolored candy hearts into her palm, reading the little scribbles of love before she’s shoveling the whole handful into her mouth.
I supposed even Stella can’t get her to consume candy at a normal, human rate.
Preferring to eat her gummy clusters and candy hearts like a feral trash panda.
She unceremoniously shakes the box before peering inside, counting how many she has left before she needs to restock.
“Trust me, he liked the outfit,” I say, feeling the smile stretch across my face. “I bet you ten boxes of candy hearts that he comes back in here with cotton candy,” I wager to my sister, eyebrow notched.
“Ten boxes? Of the real ones, not the knock-off brand you got last time,” she scolds me, remembering the last batch I ordered that weren’t very conversational.
I think one of them just said “No”. Personally, I liked it, but apparently it was a subpar candy selection.
Sue me, it’s hard to find candy hearts in the middle of summer.
With a dramatic eye roll, “Yes, the real ones. Be mine forever and all that other crap.”
Sadie and I make our way out the door to the floor for my usual perusal of guests, chatting and mingling like tonight is any other regular night. Colton meets us right as the office door is closing, arms carrying his tablet and phone, but no cotton candy in sight.
“Ha! No cotton candy, I want the dirty set this time ‘sis,” She strolls by, leaning up to clap Colton on the shoulder, calling him an idiot but thanking him for playing as she makes her way behind the bar area to her intel cave.
“You owe me ten boxes of candy hearts!” I practically shout at him, looking down at my outfit, oddly self-conscious of my pick as I shift nervously. I was sure this outfit was worth him indulging in his little distraction tactic.
He wasn’t exactly sneaky with the cotton candy.
His hands would fidget or his jaw would clench and then he would disappear for a few minutes, returning with a pink or blue fluff, shoving it into his mouth.
Did I start playing into it? Nooooo. That would be mean.
Did I keep track in my head of how many times he had to visit the bar? Yes of course. I’m no Saint.
He looks me up and down and then to where Sadie disappeared before swiveling his attention back to me and my objectively stunning outfit. Proof men are all idiots.
“You made a bet on my reaction?” he asks, voice low as he steps closer.
I nod once.
He takes another step.
“You wanted to know what I think of this?” He takes another step closer, towering over me, a finger reaching out to brush against the fabric that grazes my thigh.
My breath turns shallow, whether from the corset or the way Colton leans down to whisper in my ear I can’t say for certain. But I was breathing just fine a minute ago.
“Sunshine,” he says, the nickname coming out slightly pained before he pulls his hand away and takes a step back. Then another.
He looks over his shoulder, directly at the camera pointed in our direction from the bar before turning back to face me, grinning and smug.
“What’s so funny?” I ask him, confused how I feel self-conscious and he’s happy.
Then the little shit sticks his tongue out at me, a bright blue streak running down the middle confirming my victory. The victory he’s purposefully making sure Sadie can’t see as he faces me instead of the camera.
I can feel the growl before its audible, thrumming through my body as I take measured steps towards him. Only for him to step back with each of mine.
“You little—”
“Tsk tsk, Sunshine. You have guests who need your attention.” I look around and realize he’s walked us right into the line of sight of the audience, knowing I won’t act on anything with this many scrutinizing eyes watching.
I run my hands over the layered bodice, calming my breath as Colton circles to stand at my back, safe for now. He leans down to my ear, as if he’s trying to be heard over the music.
“Don’t worry, Sunshine, I‘ll make sure my tongue is ready for you later.”
It’s going to be a long night.
It’s like any other night.
The performances on stage go off exactly as planned, no hitch in sight. Patrons are steadily led from their tables into private rooms, only to be returned sated and blissed out. The drinks flow and the music pulses.
It’s like any other night.
Large plastic sheeting was just rolled out onto the floor of my office, brought in surreptitiously and tacked down. The staff doesn’t even blink an eye.
A normal night.
Wade came to find me about ten minutes ago, letting me know the package was on the way, two of his men on transport duty.
Altogether the plan was simple, which is what made it both terrible and effective.
Unfortunately, Ben did not make it to work today.
Wade and I were waiting outside his building to help him pack up for a little trip.
The rehab facility I chose for Ben was far enough away that he wouldn’t be feeling the backlash from the events of tonight, and it will all be dealt with before he’s back in town. Hopefully.
I had sat quietly with Ben while he filtered through different emotions at record speed. First was denial that he hadn’t done anything wrong, then anger that he didn’t have a problem, finally landing on panic that I was either there to kill him or have him arrested.
He accepted my help in the end, though he remained skeptical it wasn’t a trap the entire time I explained where he was going. I don’t think he will really accept any of this until he is far away from here, and me.
I told him that whenever he was ready to come back the job would be waiting for him, and his treatment was taken care of for however long he needed to be there.
He didn’t ask about his current apartment or bills, but I wasn’t going to bring it up if he didn’t. Those bills would be covered as well, a home for him to return to if he wanted it. If he wanted to start over somewhere new, he would be given whatever he needed to do that too.
I had meant what I said, Ben wasn’t my problem, and I wasn’t interested in playing judge and jury. What he decided to do with his life after this was his choice, I just gave him the opportunity to make that choice with a clear head, and a professional staff for support.
I only asked for one thing in return, his phone.
He handed it over quickly, almost frantic to be rid of it. The moment it was dropped into my palm, he seemed to take his first real breath. Like the first step to cut this disease out of his life was to cut out the connection to the ones who thrived on it.
While Ben was safely tucked away, the more difficult part of my night began.
It’s not like I could suddenly close Cirque for the night without alerting everyone that something was going on.
The last thing this plan needed was a big neon sign that said, “Look at us. Something fucked up is happening!” So here I am, saying hello to a congressional candidate and his team as my eyes sweep the floor for any sign of my special guest.
He’s droning on about his political agenda and the struggles of a campaign when my eyes drag over Colton at the back of the bar, where Wade greets him before they both turn to look at the closed door of my office.
Colton and Wade part—Wade heading to my office as Colton weaves through the group to meet me at the table.
“Your special guest has arrived, Ms. Mathers. He is waiting in your office. Sadie and Wade are already inside, waiting for you.”
The candidate looks insulted for the briefest moment, but the promise of a hefty donation eases the sting of being abandoned in favor of a special guest. Trust me, bud, you don’t want to be on this VIP list.
I open the door to my office. Wade and Sadie are inside with my new best friend sitting in a chair in the dead center of the room, zip ties anchoring each ankle and wrist to the armchair.
I stop over the threshold, Colton bumping into my back and then cursing under his breath as I back into him a step and close the door again, turning to face him.
“Colton, that will be all for tonight. Thank you.”
His body snaps back as if he’s had the wind knocked out of him. The shock is fleeting though, as he steps forward into my space, not a care for who can see us as I take a quick peek around at any lingering eyes.
“Like hell it is, Harper. I’m not leaving you to do this alone,” he seethes.
“I’m not alone. Sadie and Wade are in there. I don’t need you for this.”
He makes a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, derision in his words. “I don’t think you need me for anything, Harper. Doesn’t make me want to be there for you any less.”
I don’t reply, hand still twisted behind my back, grip tight on the door handle.
“You said you trusted me. Why tell me the plan—why let me decide if I wanted to be involved if you were going to stop me here?”
Because this is different. This isn’t about his opinion of Cirque. This is about his opinion of me. If I let him into that room, there is no going back. Hearing about what I’ve done and seeing it firsthand are not the same.
“Telling you the plan is one thing. Having you be a part of it was never what I intended. Going into that room will drag you into this mess with no way out. You will be in this, and there is no coming back from that.” I whisper-shout at him.
He leans around me to put his hand over mine on the handle. “You keep saying that I can’t feel this way about you because I don’t understand. Then show me, Harper. I already love the good and the bad, so show me the wicked. Drag me down.”