Cheers from the crowd exploded. Their excitement surged through my blood, preparing me for the dance.
Brando whipped around, giving me a glare that would have wilted a sociopath.
“I have to,” I said in his ear. “Or we’ll never get out of here.”
Rocco continued to monitor the situation with eyes as hard as stone, not sure where to lunge if someone else pushed through. Every man we had stood guard. I could almost see their hackles raised at attention.
The crowd became leashed with anticipation, but not for long. Not unless I gave them something to chew on. An electric spark shot through the air, ready to catch on to something hotter to make an explosion. Somehow, I had become the queen of the night for these people, people who probably couldn’t afford tickets to the primetime freak show starring me.
Donato came back then. He motioned for us to come closer. We huddled like football players during an important time out.
“Scarlett goes up the line with her husband and brother. We will fringe the outline of the stage. After her dance, there is an exit route that will lead us out. The man on the stage gave me directions.”
He nodded at me. Showtime. He went to take my cloak, but I told him to wait.
I took a deep breath and then lifted my chin, going forward. The sea of people parted, and I walked a straight line, occasional murmurs and gasps meeting my ear.
Rocco waited at the edge of the stage, while Brando and I made our way to the DJ. I whispered to Brando which song to play, and he told the man. All part of the fantasy conjured up. I didn’t speak or touch anyone, except for Brando, and only at the end. He was my beast, after all. And looked exactly the part, at the moment.
I turned my back on the crowd, and when the music began, I dropped my cloak and began to dance. A man tried to get through Rocco and Brando, but the hard crunch of bone against bone stopped him.
The noise made me pause. Where had I heard that before? Seen that—shadows fighting shadows? It unsettled me to my core.
I pointed at three women who mimicked my movements, employees of the club by the looks of them, and had them join me on stage. After they had the routine down, I attempted to slip off to Brando. No go. Two male dancers, all oiled up, had somehow been allowed on the stage—perhaps in the confusion of allowing the three women to join me. They tried to make a sandwich out of me, but Brando took them both out before I could blink. In that moment, he raged, and the two greased-up dancers flew off the stage as though the tail of a dragon had flung them off. Blood stained his clothes, even his neck. I lifted my arm, wiping the droplets off with the material of the costume. I felt almost frantic to clean him up.
He scooped me off my feet and then paused when the middle of the crowd started to converge, pieces of black fluff floating in the air. My cloak. It had somehow fallen off the stage, and the crowd fought over it like a bunch of savages. Brando gave word to Rocco to haul ass. Not long after, we made it to a different entrance to the underground cavern where I’d been paid to perform.
Brando set me down on my feet, and I teetered before he righted me. I pulled away from him, resting my body against the cool stone, trying to breathe. Then laughter bubbled up, uncontrollable cackles—I had no idea why.
“Scarlett. Look at me, baby.” Brando moved my face back and forth, examining me. “Tito!”
Uncle Tito moved in front of me. “Have you had anything, niece?” He examined me in that subtle way of his.
“Of course not!” I laughed some more. “But that man back there blew smoke in my face.”
“Mmhm,” he said, making me feel like an unusual specimen with his small eyes enlarged by thick glasses. “She is okay! Contact high.”
“What is going on here?” Nemours said, slapping his way through the wall of men. “What have you done?” He came toward me.
I froze. My stomach contracted in memory of his fist. Brando stepped in front of me, the strongest wall of them all.
Uncle Tito put a hand to the rat’s chest, the nice man not seeming so kind anymore. “She had to dance to save all our skins!” he hissed. “You could not make a way for your star attraction!”
An argument broke out between Nemours, Uncle Tito, Donato, and Lothario’s mouthpiece. They were all trying to speak over the other. Three fired-up Italians against Nemours.Good luck with that one, rat.I almost giggled.
My attention shifted to the men making their way to the underground grotto where I’d be dancing. Their language sounded different, so foreign amongst other foreigners.
I understood their language, though. It was familiar to me. Russian.
Peeking around Brando’s body, I was able to see through an opening in our group. One of the men stopped for a moment and searched my face and body. He was tall, with a lithe body build. Blonde hair and dove gray eyes. His features were all sharp.
“You will remember me?” he said, his accent heavy. He grinned with only one side of his mouth.
When I didn’t answer, his buddy hit him, and he moved along with six other men in a tight cluster. I knew I’d see him again. Fairly soon.
You will remember me?
Yes, I do. The smell of winter. A little boy with the same grin, the two of us throwing snow at each other. I still had my mask on, but that wouldn’t stop a man like him from recognizing me. I had little to no doubt that he knew who I was, even when everyone outside of my tight circle didn’t. It was his business to know.
