CHAPTER 25
“This one is actually quite funny,” Eddie started cutting out the review from the newspaper.
Print newspaper was a failing industry, everyone more or less got their news online nowadays, methinks.
But newspapers were good for more than putting down to protect your floor when painting.
There was nothing quite like cutting out reviews from the papers and placing them in the official scrap book.
I’d been doing it since our start up.
Of course, prior to last year we only got a few lines in the local newspaper.
After The Ice Queen and Princess shows we had gotten major attention and mega-reviews.
I mentally blocked out any acknowledged assistance from outside forces i.
e.
anyone whose surname started with a ‘B’ and rhymed with ass-dley?
Jackass-adley, perhaps?
Whatever.
Sinners and Saints hadn’t had as warm a reception as that.
Lisa suddenly gasped in outrage then began methodically ripping the newspaper in her hands into neat strips.
“Bad?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“What? No, uh, no. I saw an article which was anti-feminist. Nothing to do with our show.” She kept ripping the paper in strips, her fingertips stained grimy grey-black, as were all of ours.
“Damned men.”
“Here, here,” Gerrard mocked while frowning at the section he was reading in his papers.
He looked over at me, smiled brightly, then waited until I’d partially turned my head away before tearing out the page and crumpling it into a wad.
Gerrard had no spy skills.
Couldn’t he see me watching out the corner of my eyes?
“F a cking hell ,” Liam growled, he elbowed Bri and she leaned over his shoulder to read where he was currently stabbing his index finger.
Bri glanced at me, a tight smile on her face.
“What?” I shrieked from my sitting position on the hotel bed.
I tried to peek at the papers.
“Is it bad? Did they slate us? You guys aren’t making this fun. Just tell me.”
Liam crumpled up the papers, but not before I caught glimpse of the headline.
Oh.
It had nothing to do with my dance company’s latest creation and everything to do with my divorce.
Yes.
I was freshly divorced, had been for seven days, eighteen hours, and however many minutes.
It had happened so fast I figured it bordered on the illegal side.
The decree absolute was issued a day after the decree nisi.
I knew there should have been a six weeks wait in-between, but I wanted everything finalized and frankly didn’t care how it happened.
The papers I eagerly signed, under Collins watchful eyes, without representation.
I just wanted it over.
Matt hadn’t shown up for my signing, he’d already signed his part and I had read somewhere he was currently still holidaying in Montenegro, or was it St Barts?
I didn’t care, we were divorced and I was glad for it.
Had Matt and his fancy legal representation used their high up connections and bent the rules to engineer a lightning speed divorce?
Most likely.
As long as it didn’t blow up in my face, I was fine with it.
Liam’s lips moved soundlessly, but anyone could catch the gist of his tirade.
It was expletive laden and supportive to me, his boss, yet it left me feeling hollow.
And humiliated.
So what if the whole world knew about my failed whirlwind romance with the increasingly handsome Matthew Bradley?
- Why was he looking so yummy all of a sudden?
I mean, he always looked good, but now he looked deity-like handsome.
The idiot.
Who cared there were some assholes out there already making embarrassing memes about me?
- The one Dante showed me last night did make me chuckle…
a bit.
Did it bother me some forums were have a virtual laugh-fest at the now public demise of my short marriage?
- Some of those posts were hurtful though.
The racist ones I simply ignored.
Was it fair I seemed to be bearing the brunt of the blame?
- That alleged ‘source’ stating I was wholly to blame didn’t fool me.
I was certain the article had been in a Walthamstow’s affiliate newspaper.
Nathan.
The rat was using his media connections to malign me!
Did it matter one ounce I was, in reality, financially worse off than before I’d married Matt?
- My corporate tax bill would be sky-high this year.
Capital gains and all that dross from owning my building.
I knew Matt’s, or whoever it was, underhand dealings would bite me in the butt and my accountant had yet to inform me on whether I could deduct any costs.
“I’ve got exactly two.” I said to no-one in particular.
“Two what?” Bri asked.
“Exactly two figs to give.” I finished with a self-righteous flick of hair.
“Figs?” Eddie asked.
“Don’t you mean fucks? You’ve got two fucks to give.” He looked over at Dante, who was on his laptop over by the desk at the window.
“That’s what she means, right?”
“She’s not cussing anymore.” Dante explained.
A nod and a wink from him cemented the healed tension between us of late.
We were in Birmingham for the week.
They had pushed my show back a week later and halved the agreed two weeks show.
I feared the reasoning behind their decision but had simply smiled and nodded when the news had been delivered.
For all intents and purposes, our performances at the Hippodrome were doing exceptionally well.
Maybe The Ice Queen and Princess was my only world class creation.
Crap.
That would suck big time.
Lisa roared with laughter, rolling into me on the bed.
“You? Not cursing? You’re having a right laugh.”
“She’s not.” Dante confirmed, and it wasn’t tongue-in-cheek.
“She gets a pass on ass though. It’s in the bible so, yeah.”
I had decided no swear words would leave my mouth.
It was the least I could offer up to God as penance for the mountain of lies I seemed to have found myself buried under.
And by mountain of lies, I didn’t mean loads of lies…
just a couple of big ones…
enormous really…
to people who shouldn’t be lied to…
“Clean tongue, clean mind, clean soul,” I shot back, silently mourning the blackness currently staining my own.
It was the thought that counted, right?
But back to the previous tension between Dante and myself.
He was livid, that was the word he used.
Livid over my behaviour that day the police raided my business premises.
Fuc-fudging Kincaid!
I would never forgive the snake.
Anyway, where was I?
Oh yeah.
Livid.
Dante had called me the lowest of the low for giving Collins the erroneous impression ‘we’ were expecting.
He demanded I set it right, and I had tried.
Honestly, I had tried to tell Matt that very night but he was too angry and I was too scared.
I always hated when he got angry with me, made me feel like a misbehaving kid.
Dante hadn’t cared though when I confessed my failed attempt to notify Matt of the results of our night spent together in September.
Dante believed I was deliberately, cruelly , cutting Matt out of something which he had every right to be a part of.
My best friend was unusually pro-Matt when it came to the contents of my womb, probably because of his own absent father.
He swore he would go straight to Matt and tell him himself, show him the ultrasound picture, drag me by my hair and reveal my growing stomach – I had smugly pointed out there was barely anything showing then, and he had worried his lip between his teeth.
Dante still believed I should be way bigger.
There was a bump, definitely a bump.
Thankfully it was winter and my large sweaters covered the growing evidence of my folly.
Back on point: I told Dante my ex-husband would probably think I was trying to trap him.
I wailed Matt would probably demand a paternity test immediately and once it was confirmed he was the father…
I told Dante the truth.
Matt would take them from me.
I had no doubt about that, not with the memory of Grumps’s threat echoing in my head.
They would take the babies.
My babies.
It was the stark realization of that very possible occurrence which changed my perception.
Instead of being the absolute worst thing to ever befall me…
yes, I had believed it was worse than losing my parents, and yes, that was messed up.
Instead of being bad, my unexpected pregnancy was suddenly very real and in need of protection from them.
The thought of my kids being raised in the same environment Matt had been raised…
a small shudder went through me.
Matt would take them from me out of spite.
He was vindictive like that.
Although my heart argued with my head, reminding me of the times he’d willingly done something which led to my benefit; I kept thinking of his treatment of me before our divorce.
He had thrown me away without blinking.
What if the babies looked black, not bi-racial?
Would he accept them?
I mean, he had wanted kids while I categorically hadn’t.
Would he and his family be ashamed of them?
Would they grow up feeling different ?
No.
I couldn’t let it happen and Matt was not a man to be crossed.
His pride would demand some form of painful retribution if he ever found out he’d been duped.
Once the lie had been set there was no going back.
Of course, I should have maybe tried harder to tell him, but all I could picture was him trotting out Dr Brown and that notebook of hers in the Family Courts.
Proving I was a crazy ass and unfit mother.
He had money, loads of money.
And contacts, the Bradley name carried a lot of weight.
If Matt knew, I would lose them.
I couldn’t lose anyone else.
Fuc-fudge it.
No -one was taking them from me.
It was inevitable that making such a decision would turn me into a grown-up.
I was a grown-up now because there were two little beings depending on me to get my crap together.
Dante had stopped pestering me to tell Matt once he saw the wild terror on my face.
Even though he felt I was over-reacting, he didn’t want to risk it either.
One could never be sure with the English, as inherently reserved as a people they were, they were ultimately a dangerous breed.
History proved they were not a country to mess with.
Barmy, Matt would definitely say barmy.
They were all barmy.
Despite my own English nationality, I was decidedly more of a watered down version.
A mishmash of colourful traits, heck, I was an adopted Yank and proud of it.
Oo-rah.
The other lie was to Aunt Cleo.
I had told her of my predicament Christmas morning.
I believed she would be full of goodwill to man, so full she wouldn’t reach through the phone and strangle me.
She rightly assumed Matt was the sperm donor and said as much, in very dangerous tones too.
But I denied it.
I lied because I knew my aunt.
She would hunt him down and make him face up to his responsibilities, by force if needed.
I lied.
It had rolled off my tongue like silk, the untrue admission of a father unknown.
A one night stand I had been careless with.
Aunt Cleo had surprised me, she had tutted in disapproval then sighed softly before assuring me it wasn’t the end of the world and I had the full support of my family.
Her parting words: ‘ The Lord works in mysterious ways’.
It was not mysterious and not His doing, just bad luck and a piss poor lack of due care and attention concerning contraception on my part.
It was embarrassing, getting knocked up like some stupid character in a stupid story who everyone rolled their eyes at, but it was a mistake I would have to live with.
I had lied to my now ex-husband and my family.
I was certainly going to hell for my deception but I would deal with that when it was time to pay the piper.
Everyone had to pay the piper eventually, I wasn’t going to stress about it now.
Right now my main worry was the less than favourable reviews Sinners and Saints had received, oh and the small issue of my costume no longer fitting.
Our loyal, and overworked, costume designer had made some alterations before my trip to Birmingham.
Yet I was starting to feel the pinch, literally feeling the pinch, around my waist.
Bianca hadn’t questioned why I needed my costume altered, all she advised was to watch what I ate.
Cheeky.
“Right,” Liam gathered up a bunch of newspapers in his arms and moved off the bed’s edge.
“I’m heading back to my room for some shut eye.”
“Stay away from Joanie.” Dante called in warning from where he sat.
“Piss off.” Liam grumbled, walking over to the bin and stuffing it full with the papers.
“She’s chasing me, not the other way around.”
Joanie, a delicate brunette with the most expressive eyes ever, was jonesing for Liam.
According to him, the temporary dancer had taken a shine to him and made it clear she was interested.
There had been a whisper amongst my dancers about an incident after the second night’s performance.
A ‘shagging in the emergency stairwell’ sort of incident.
“Stay away from Joanie, Liam.” I reiterated, much harsher than Dante.
The last thing I needed was one of my main dancers being hit with a sexual harassment case.
Or for a lovers’ tiff drama affecting their performances.
“Madi,” he whined.
“Why are you blaming me? She’s the instigator.”
Gerrard smirked, chuckling under his breath.
“You didn’t say no though.”
Eddie started laughing too, exchanging secret boys’ looks with Gerrard and Dante.
The smirk was telling.
They were all smirking.
Ugh.
Stupid men.
“Liam, I don’t care who started what.” I said firmly.
“You all know how I feel about casual workplace dalliances.”
“She’s a temp for crying out loud.” Liam groused.
“Who we use on a regular basis,” I retorted before giving him gimlet eyes.
“Stop sticking your thing in places it shouldn’t be stuck.”
Dante choked.
Eddie spluttered.
Gerrard’s mouth opened.
“That’s right,” Lisa agreed.
“You tell him, Madi.”
Bri, thinking my attention laid solely on Liam, sent Dante a quick glance.
He didn’t notice her and a bubble of dread popped in my stomach, spreading its noxious waves through me.
Mother…
what could be used as the perfect word substitute?
The urge to cuss passed and I chewed my bottom lip frantically.
She’d been weird around Dante for weeks.
My observation skills were much more improved.
At first I thought Dante had tried something with her, but I knew my best friend and after monitoring them closely, I began suspecting Bri was after some boss-meat.
Those fleeting, shy looks, the change in her smiles; I recognized her behaviour because I too had once been under Dante’s spell.
The signs were becoming clear.
Bri was crushing hard on Dante.
Why after all these years?
Oh no.
Something would need to be done.
Liam left, grumbling under his breath about the unfairness of it all.
Gerrard and Eddie left a few minutes later, certainly with the aim of riling Liam up and blatantly disregarding my edict to leave him alone.
I couldn’t be seen to condone workplace bullying, so I sent Dante after them to ensure they obeyed.
Lisa stretched her lithe body before yawning wide enough to swallow us all.
She bid Bri and I ‘bye’ and wandered out my room to find her own hotel bed.
And now we were two.
I glanced at Bri from lowered eyelashes, wondering the best way to broach her not-so-obvious crush on my best friend.
It would need to be delicately phrased, work dynamics needed to be considered.
I was her boss but I was also her friend, a good friend.
“Bri,” Easy now, I would gently probe her mind with a few well-worded questions.
“Bri, you’re acting weird with Dante. Why? You like him, don’t you? Don’t act like you don’t. I’m not dumb. You blush around him. You never did that before. You’re crushing on Dante.” Darn it.
So much for being subtle.
Bri avoided my searching gaze and began fidgeting.
“What? No. Stop arseing around, Madi. Dante’s not my type. I mean, he’s fit and all, don’t get me wrong,”
“But,” I pressed when she said nothing more, a dreamy glaze covered her eyes.
“Hmm,” she mumbled, distracted and definitely in a dreamy fog.
“But what?”
“No.” I said.
“I won’t allow it.”
Bri scrunched her face up at me.
How did some people manage to look pretty doing that?
I usually looked constipated whenever scrunching my face up.
“Allow what?” she asked, pulling me from my crazy musings and scrunched face envy.
Bri rolled her eyes then snorted in disgust.
“Give over. As if Dante – he doesn’t even think about me like that.”
I raised one eyebrow.
“Not that I care,” she continued.
“I’m not bothered. We’ve known each other since you opened the dance company. I’m not bothered if he doesn’t fancy me. I don’t fancy him. Why are we even talking about this? He’s my boss, not as much as you are, but you know what I’m getting at. We could never work. I don’t fancy him. Look, I’m going back to my room. This conversation is doing my head in.”
She jumped off the bed, features tight and movements jerky.
I remained seated, quietly upset over her flustered behaviour and full of sympathy.
It felt terrible when the object of your desires had no interest in you.
Yeah, as I said before, I knew exactly what Bri was going through.
“Ok, then.” I had no idea which part of our talk I was referring to, neither did she.
‘Ok then’ was the most appropriate response in my eyes.
Bri gave me a half-glower, half-smile, before hurrying out my room.
Right.
Another problem added to a plate already full of problems.
Someone had hexed me, this wasn’t karma messing with me anymore.
Someone, somewhere, had hexed me good.
It had to be a curse, maybe voodoo, maybe not; but a curse nonetheless.
For half an hour, I sat staring blankly at nothing in particular.
My hand laid resting with feather-lightness across my stomach.
It was the first proper attempt of me being somewhat friendly towards them.
Yes, I had decided their life was worth more than my sanity, my career.
And yes, I knew I would do anything to protect them from harm.
Plus I now ate militantly well, swallowed the daily prenatal tablets I felt guilted into buying.
I took care of myself and, by default, ended up ultimately taking care of them.
But there remained a hidden element of resentment deep inside me.
Petulant resentment at their presence, not the initial burst of disgust and hatred, but mean-spirited resentment.
Did they know?
Had they somehow sensed my emotions?
Would it hurt their development?
Had I already screwed them up?
They were stewing inside me, stewing in bitterness and regret and stress.
That could not be good for their growing brains.
Oh fuc-fudge.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I don’t hate you, either one of you. It’s complicated.” My fingers curled protectively over my stomach.
“I’ll be better. I promise to be better. From now on, I’ll try to focus on happy thoughts. I don’t hate you anymore. I think I can love you, I’m sure I will love you. I just need time. Your dad never gave me any time,” A tiny smile tilted the right side of my mouth.
“But you’re different from him. You’re both mine and we can make this work. I swear we can make this work somehow.” My smile widened.
“And you’ll have dual-nationality like me. How great is that?”
Wait.
They would be allowed American citizenship, right?
I may have been English by birth but I held an American passport also.
Crap.
Where was my cell?
I needed to Google this.
When Dante walked back into my hotel room a short while later, the grin had taken up permanent residence on my face.
“Why are you grinning like that?” he asked as his features tightened in uncertainty.
“Like what?”
“Like a crazy person,” he replied, slowly shaking his head and heading back towards the chair and desk by the window.
“A crazy crack addict, if I’m honest.”
“Ha ha,” I thought my grin was visibly pleasing.
“Real funny. Listen, we need to talk.” This time I would ease into the issue of Bri’s crush.
It would be done with verbal poise and- “Bri’s crushing on you.” Darn it.
I did it again!
“What?” Dante exclaimed, but he avoided my gaze.
“Um, I don’t-”
“Oh my God.” I slid off the bed.
“You knew. You know she’s crushing on you.”
“What? No,” he denied with haste as he logged back on the laptop.
“Are you hormonal? Pregnant ladies act crazy. Do you have pregnancy brain? That’s a thing, right? Hey, did you read the book I got you? It has all these interesting stuff on multiple births. I’m going to measure your waist again today. When is your next mid-wife appointment?”
Narrowing my eyes, I stalked towards his seated form.
“Don’t pull that crap with me, Dante Palmer. You knew she likes you. What are we going to do about it?”
Dante grimaced, the simple action signalled the end of his ‘na?vely unaware’ act.
“I was hoping I could keep ignoring it.”
“Aha.” My hand shot up into the air and Dante jerked at my shout.
“So you admit to knowing.”
Eyeing me from under unamused eyebrows, Dante shrugged.
“She’s been friendlier than usual these past few months. I don’t know, sweet cheeks. What can I do? She’s one of our principals and we can’t afford to lose her. She’s great on stage.”
I nodded in agreement.
Bri was one of our best principals.
“If I ignore it,” Dante shrugged again.
“Maybe it’ll go away.”
Patting my stomach I gave him a supportive smile.
“I thought that.”
Dante’s face softened as he glanced at my stomach, then he shook his head.
“That’s different. You can’t ignore babies growing inside you, no matter how hard you tried,” Here he scowled at me before his gaze returned to my tummy and a sweet smiled tugged the edges of his mouth up.
“I don’t know if I can keep it secret from the guys much longer. I’m crazy excited.”
“D,” I clutched my stomach, worried at the eagerness pouring off his face.
He looked like a kid in a candy store, over-excited and feral.
“I’m only about 20 weeks. I don’t want anyone else knowing yet. What if something goes wrong?”
His excitement disappeared in the blink of an eye, as if a magic wand had been waved.
“When’s your next appointment?” he asked, chewing on his lower lip.
“A few days after we return to London.” I advised.
“I’m due for a scan soon anyway.”
“You’re showing now though,” A frown graced his handsome face.
“Not much but it’s there. They’ll be alright and you’re from good stock. Aunt Cleo has got some child-bearing hips, very meaty.”
I blinked at him.
“Did you call my aunt meaty ?”
“Mhmm, in a good way, a healthy way,” he amended.
“A ‘bring healthy kids into the world’ way. Look at your cousins. They’re-”
“Meaty?” I cut him off dryly.
“Yes,” he grinned at me.
“A lean, meaty sort of way. You’ll be fine.”
“I guess,” Again I stroked my tummy and Dante beamed at me.
“They’ll be alright, sweet cheeks.” he reiterated firmly.
“I’ve started thinking about names.”
“Feck off.” I groused, ‘fudge’ wasn’t a strong enough substitution.
I spun on my heels and headed towards my bed.
Tiredness came at the oddest times of late.
“I’m your best friend,” Dante retorted.
“Shouldn’t I get a say? You know I’m not only going to be their uncle. I’d better be a god-parent too. Have you told Sol and Bret yet?”
“Not yet.” I murmured as I crawled under the sheets.
“But I will.”
“Are you going to tell them who the father is?” Dante asked.
I twisted around in order to look at him.
“No. I’ve already lied to Aunt Cleo, and you know if Sol finds out she’ll go mental and try to sue Matt or something. Probably try to kneecap him. She knows people. And Bret will definitely try to name and shame him to the press, or whoever will listen to him.”
Dante sighed out loud.
“A lie will only get bigger, sweet cheeks. Have you thought about contacting Matt again? I’m sure you’re over-reacting about this. He can’t-”
“D,” I interrupted him with a small shake of head.
“Don’t. It’s done. Wake me before you leave my room. Okay?”
Dante nodded before turning back to his laptop.
“Oh, Joanie and a few others were lurking around Liam’s and Eddie’s room when I left them.”
My eyes, which had just slipped closed, popped wide open.
I would never get to sleep now.
Feck.
Fudge…
argh, for fuck sakes.
A circular would need to be sent around, a strongly worded one at that.
Yeah, there was now no chance of me falling asleep with images of Joanie and Liam having a spectacular fall out on stage.
If luck was kind, any drama would be delayed until we finished performing at the Hippodrome.
Lady luck, please be kind.