I shake my head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I grab his shoulders, lead him to the staircase, and press the button again to close the secret door in the wall.
Harrison turns around to defy me again, but the walls close over his stunned face before he can get another word out.
I turn and move the chaise out of the door’s way, finally opening the door to reveal the identity of the female patron.
“Mrs. Roth.” I bow my head.
She drops her jaw. “Bianca! I thought you were the custodian.”
Right. I said I was Hilda. We don’t employ anyone named Hilda. We don’t even have custodial staff. The cards clean up the club after it closes every night. It was just the first name that came to mind.
I blink. “Yes. Well, I was…embarrassed. My own bathroom is out of order, and I’ve been experiencing some”—I lean in—“feminine troubles this evening. And things came in a bit stronger this month than usual.”
Mrs. Roth grimaces. “My God, Bianca. Be a little more discreet.”
“Apologies.” I cross my arms. “I didn’t want anyone else to come in, so I blocked the door. I didn’t think I’d be in here as long as I was. I’m so sorry for keeping you, ma’am.”
Mrs. Roth rolls her eyes and huffs past me into a stall. I breathe a sigh of relief. She didn’t choose the one that leads to the secret crawlspace.
I leave the bathroom and make a beeline toward my dressing room. When I get there, I finally allow the weight of my discovery to fall on me, if only for a moment. The tears starts flowing, and I scream into a lacey makeup towel while trying not to lose whatever is left in my stomach.
I allow myself three minutes.
That’s all the time I have.
When you’re an actress, you learn to leave your personal life at the door when you walk on the stage for a performance.
Even the discovery of the cooler of hearts, as horrific as it is, can be compartmentalized. It has to be. I have no choice.
I take a deep breath in. Another. A third.
Harrison is safe. Rouge didn’t find him in the club tonight.
If she had…
God, I can’t think about his heart sitting in that cooler.
He’s okay.
That’s what matters right now.
Everything else can wait.
I wipe my eyes, retouch my makeup where it’s been blurred by my tears.
I swallow down the feelings and exit my dressing room, head to the stage.
Showtime.
2
HARRISON
What the fuck was in that crawlspace?
Bianca wanted me out of here as quickly as possible.
I lean against the red door that leads to the women’s restroom. The stifled hustle and bustle of female patrons using the facilities buzzes through.
