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My butt slammed down into the hard-plastic chair and I let out a deep breath. Tonight, had wrecked me. My fingers trembled as I leaned forward to untie my pointe shoe. Never in my life had I been so angry while out on stage doing what I loved.
With fingers that seemed to not want to cooperate I managed to get one pink ribbon unthreaded before the sounds of heavy footfalls filled the air. I kept my focus down. If I could just do what I had to do, I’d get out of here and I would be able to forget all about it until I had to repeat it all again Tuesday night.
“What the hell is your problem tonight?” Marco called through the cavernous back room. There was no such thing as a separate dressing room in this place. The owner might own one of the biggest casinos in Park City but the conditions for his dancers in the hole in the wall he ran weren’t that great.
I moved my focus to my other foot, trying my hardest not to flex the muscles in my foot, knowing that cramp would creep in all too easily tonight.
“I’m talking to you, Groves.” Of course, he was. He wasn’t going to call Peter out for his struggles tonight. If he paid attention, he would see just how glassy his eyes were and see just how high he was. He didn’t pay attention to how much the man’s arms trembled when he tried to lift me. Never in my whole career had I almost been dropped seven times in one show. But somehow it was my problem, it was always my fault.
“Don’t ignore me, bitch, you will live to regret it.” I sat back in my chair focusing on the short round bastard as he came to a stop a few feet away. I regretted every single second I spent in this place, every single moment my eyes had to land on him and every single dollar I made this chump all because I had to. Every single second that this job kept me away from my sleeping prince.
Four long years I had danced four nights a week at the theater, doing whatever he told me to do. For four long years I had been under his thumb and it didn’t seem like I would be getting out any time soon.
His forehead wrinkled some more and a sheen of sweat started to bead on his shiny bald head. The man was a walking heart attack, but he had money and connections. I had to provide for Sam which meant I needed this job.
“I was trying to stay upright, Peter nearly dropped...”
“Shut your trap.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he cut me off. A short fat sausage finger pointing in my direction. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to chop that fucker off and shove it up his nose.
“If the high rollers didn’t like the look of you on stage, your ass would be homeless, or you’d be a prostitute.” I sucked in a breath. Homelessness was something I had experienced and that was why we ended up here. Just over five years ago I fled Georgia with the bitter taste of rejection in my mouth after my heart was shattered.
A heavy weight pressed down on my breast bone every single time I pictured the rolling hills, the orchards, the boy who shattered me. Life had to be better this way. I was what I was. Nobody expected any different. Nobody looked at me and saw nothing but trailer trash. But I was stuck, there was no way out from under Marco DeVito.
I pressed my lips together trying my hardest not to tell the man where I really wanted him to go. One day I would find a way out of here, I just had to make a plan first. I needed to save money. Money Marco didn’t pay. I lived rent-free in an apartment with three other dancers. We were all different levels of destitute but never ever spoke of just how shitty our freaking lives were.
I found joy in my dancing even if it was for him. And Sam, he kept me going through my darkest days and nights.
“I suggest you get changed into something sexy. You have a man who wants a private dance.” His dark eyes narrowed in on me, but the words were out before I was able to stop them.
“I’m not a stripper.” Never ever had been, and I was not about to sink that low. I had morals, and I had vowed to never do anything that Sam would become ashamed off as he grew older. Sure, Marco DeVito would eventually cause him shame, but I wasn’t planning on sticking around for that to be the case. Sam deserved more, and I hoped I could provide it, soon.
“Four grand cash in your hand.” The smug smile that graced his lips told me he knew he had me right where he wanted me.
“Two up front.” The guy was a sleaze, and I didn’t trust him.
“You can’t negotiate with me. I’ll pay you when I want to fucking pay you.”
“I’ll dance when I want to fucking dance.” I folded my arms over my chest, knowing I was pushing my luck. But four grand. That would almost get me out of here. I had run the sums a few times, and I came up with an amount that would get me far away from Park City and let me live for a few months before I would be desperate, just in case work was hard to come by. After all, I would be leaving without a good word from my former boss.
“One grand,” he ground out, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a huge wad of cash. He counted off a grand and then shoved the rest in his pocket. “If you make him happy the rest is yours.”
“That wasn’t the deal.” I swallowed harshly as heat flooded my face.
“Do as you’re told, and it’s yours. Be in the conference room in ten.” He spun on his heel and left me sitting there. Rage swirled deep in my belly. Bitterness filled my mouth as I ground my teeth together.
I could do this, I needed to get this money. I had to.
On shaky knees I stood and walked over to the costume rack and begun flicking through all the items. I wanted something that I would be able to move comfortably in but also something that made my legs look really long. If I had one thing going for me it was my legs, I could use them to my advantage.
I just hoped the guy kept his hands to himself. While getting changed I tried my hardest to ignore the burn in my eyes and tightness in my throat. I ignored the way my hand shook as I turned the handle to the conference room. But I was definitely unprepared for the way my heart would crash to the floor when I walked through that door.
IF IT WASN’T FOR THE way my heart was pounding, I would have assumed my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was just no way it was her. It couldn’t be her.
But it was.
Her long slender legs as she rose up on her toes. The way her body moved effortlessly. Her white blond hair pulled back tight, and her blue eyes shone with something I was familiar with seeing. Unease, distaste and a little fear.
My Tiny Dancer.
She danced like she had been doing it her whole life. I remembered watching her as a kid, we would sneak into the ballet classes so she could watch. Her parents would have never been able to afford for her to dance. In fact, they probably didn’t even know that she had such a talent.
A shudder rolled down my spine when I thought of the way she grew up. I hoped that I had made it better, but I also knew that somehow, I had made it worse. I had given her something to lose. And they used me against her.
It had been about five years since I had set my eyes on her beauty. Five years since I had seen her smile and let her fresh lilac scent sooth away all my worries.
For five years I had looked for her. Waited for her to come back knowing she wouldn’t, not after the way they treated her. For five years I spent a mountain of money hiring private investigators to find her. She seemed to just vanish.
Until I got a phone call last week from a guy who was the best in his field.
“I found her, Garret.”
I sighed in relief, but it filled me with mixed feelings. He sent through a photo and my heart shattered a little more.
“She seems ok, healthy, unharmed. But she’s mixed up with Marco DeVito. If you haven’t heard of him, I suggest you do a search. And there’s something else.”
That was when my stomach sank.
“Garret, she has a kid. A boy about four-ish is my guess.”
Sydney had a child. My child. I knew it with all my heart that he was mine. Sydney had left with my baby. I didn’t really know what to think of that. On one hand, I was furious that she would deny me that time with my kid. That he would grow up not knowing who his father was, or that I loved him. On the other hand, I completely understood. Sydney was protecting herself, she had the most precious thing in the world to lose now and she wasn’t going to be taking any chances. I had to get to Park City, and I had to get my Sydney back. She would come with me, she had to.
While Park City was full of glitz and glamor, there was a very seedy side and Sydney sat smack bang in the middle of that shit. But she danced like she was the most elegant and regal ballet dancer in the world. She demanded your eyes on her as she glided through her routine. Her grace captivated people as she transitioned from one move to the next with ease, never fumbling. She was brilliant and deserved to be someplace other than here.
As kids Sydney’s only dream was to dance. Her home situation meant it wasn’t probable that she would get far, but she had determination. Then my family ruined her, and she left. Vanished overnight like footprints in the sand. No matter how hard I looked there was just no evidence that she even existed.
With a shake of my head to push my thoughts away I strode toward what Marco called the conference room, but I somehow doubted that was what went on in there. I hoped I didn’t find a stripping Sydney, because if that was the case, I’d have to track down every bastard who had ever laid eyes on her. I balled my hands into fists and tried my hardest to focus on something other than Sydney.
Like the musty stale smell of the venue, the dim shitty lights and an abundance of dark creepy corners. Yeah, Sydney had to leave this place.
I found the room and pushed through the door. Rage began to build inside. My stomach sank as my muscles pulled tight, making my breath come harder as it worked its way up my body.
To the left of the door stood a small stage with downlights, a sofa front and center to watch. In the middle of the room on a small elevated platform was a stripper pole with two half-circle sofas spaced around it. I didn’t look any further.
I moved in and tried my hardest to not glare at that fucking pole, there was no way. No fucking way.
My fingers roamed over the hard vinyl of the sofa before I turned to face the door and prop my ass on the back of it. I had no idea what she was going to do when she saw me, and I doubted she would be rushing into my arms anytime soon.
So far, my plan consisted of not leaving Park City without Sydney and I would be doing everything in my power to make that happen.