My eyes move to the man beside him, who is standing so staunchly I reckon a bullet wouldn’t chip him. I wonder if he's intending to appear intimidating or if he's just antisocial. I glance back at Jimmy. "Thank you."
Jimmy releases my hands and croons, "I love the ballet. Did you know it originated in my country? Not France. It was Sicily. The romance. The passion. The drama. Ballet is my soul, Cassidy."
"Well..." I chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to say to a stranger who talks with such sensibility. "Well, mine too."
He laughs loudly. "Yes. I could see that when you were onstage. I had to come here and thank you." His eyes haven't left mine. "You need to dance at one of my events."
"Yeah, for sure," I find myself saying. Dancing in front of people comes as naturally to me as breathing, so why wouldn't I just say yes? And given he's incredibly famous and somewhat of a philanthropist, he's probably just referring to a charity event or a play he's sponsoring...
Well, that and he's Jimmy Storm, so it's not as if I even have a choice.
But maybe I do? Maybe I should have said, ‘Maybe’?
Stop maybeing!
"For sure," he nods, repeating my words. "I will see you soon then, Cassidy Slater."
"Okay," I say with a half giggle that sounds nervous even though I'm not.
I'm not.
He turns and walks out, tailed by the other man. As soon as the door clicks shut, I swivel to face Toni. "What. The. Actual. Frick? Did that just happen?" I say, my mouth nearly as wide as Toni's eyes.
"Oh my, you're in trouble," he says, his lips now a mischievous curve.
"Who would have thought that Jimmy Storm likes ballet?" I rub my cheeks in disbelief. "Hey, why am I in trouble? Don't say that."
He looks at me, animated as usual. "A private viewing for Mr. Storm."
"Stop it. He never said he wanted a private viewing. Jebus, Toni!"
"Jesus, darlin’. It was subliminal."
"You're subliminal." I chuckle as I turn to the mirror to finish removing my makeup.
Toni sighs with disappointment. "I'd like tobe subliminal in a sexy boy by now, but we're still here. Here, instead of being at your party."
I turn my nose up. "I don't get it."
He stares down at his phone, which is always pinging away with gossip. "That's because you are an asexual pigeon."
"I'm not an asexual pigeon," I sulk, giving my face a final wipe before dabbing moisturiser below my eyes.
"Yeah, you are." He lowers his phone, and I already know he's about to start a monologue. "You're scared and way too picky. You know, you could have anyone you want... Nearly anyone—not me. I mean, I'd give you a pity hump, but I'd be thinking about Mark Wahlberg. But no, you, my girl, have big girl-boners all the time, but you tuck them in your leotard and get back to acting like an asexual pigeon. You are too afraid that a slice of cock will derail your ambitions." Toni coos like a pigeon.
I scowl at him half-heartedly and feel the need to say something dirty. "Well, I think the guy I like has a whole cake, not a slice."
Toni cracks up laughing. "Look, let's go get feral, and I think you should just, like, purr all over someone's face tonight."
"I'm not going to lose my virginity on my eighteenth birthday. It's too cliché."
Looking straight at my reflection, dead serious, he raises a sharply tweezed eyebrow. "Look, darlin’. Firstly, purring on his face isn’t going to take away your V-card. I know most guys are dickheads, but it doesn’t work like that."
I giggle, pulling the bobby pins from my hair and letting it cascade over my shoulders.
"And secondly." He suddenly frowns at me. "Are you leaving your hair like that?"
"What's wrong with it?"
