“My favorite part was when you punched that asshat, Terrell Beck, in the face.” Another woman joins in the conversation.
Auntie scrunches her face and groans. “Terrell Beck,” she spits.
I snort in response. “I almost felt bad for punching him and then kneeing him in the balls until I realized who he was.”
Raucous laughter fills the room.
“Thank you for that!” Sixes says from the doorway. “Been wanting to do that for a long time.” She closes the door behind her.
“You and a bunch of other women, I’m sure,” Auntie adds.
I remember Sixes telling me what he did to her. Are there more women?
“I’ll pay someone, anyone, to keep that bit in the show. He deserves it, that piece of shit!” one of the women exclaims as she slams a drawer shut.
I glance around the room, surprised at the animosity written all over their faces. “Wait a minute.” I grab Auntie’s hand, stopping her from adding more makeup to my face. Sixes stands there, spine straight, eyes reflecting anger and hurt. “It wasn’t just you?” I ask, scanning the room, slowly this time. The women avert their eyes, silent, unwilling to answer. Are they ashamed? Sixes steps closer to the center of the room.
“I know what this will sound like, coming from someone whose brother is a notorious lover boy, but Charlie never played games or toyed with someone’s emotions. Everyone knew, with him, it was only a one-night stand or a relationship that never lasted past a week. While some hoped they could be the one, Charlie was always honest about his feelings, and he never pursued anyone. But for Terrell Beck, it was always a game. He uses women just to collect a notch under his belt,” Sixes announces.
One of the women puts away brushes and hair styling tools. By her face alone, I could tell she was a victim of Terrell Beck, too.
“Well, then what are we going to do about it?” I ask everyone. They all freeze and slowly turn their heads in my direction. “Will we let him get away with it or give him a taste of his own medicine?” I fix my gaze on Sixes. “I say we expose him for all the shit he did.”
Auntie whoops, and cheers break out around the room.
Sixes types on her phone. “I’m recruiting some of the guards to find some dirt on Terrell Beck. I’ll bet my right boob that he has a hidden motive for being here, and we’re going to use that to our advantage.”
“After we get the information we need to hang his ass by the balls, reach out to Christian. He’ll know how to set it all up without alerting the producers. I want you all involved, too, and anyone else he hurt.” I spin my chair around to face the team and hold eye contact with every single one of them. “I think it’s time that the player meets his match.” I waggle my brows. Sixes's grin widens.
Dressed, makeup and hair refreshed, I move to the next set for more introductions. Movement down the corridor catches my eye. Carmen talks to Christian and Shadow.
In my mind, I replay what Shadow told me last night.Tyler. You called me that once. I watch the three of them interact, stifling a scoff. Shadow looks ready to strangle Carmen. Christian elbows Shadow playfully.
My entire body responds when a deep, genuine laugh spills from Shadow’s lips.
I remember that laugh. I loved the way his face used to light up, the crinkles forming around his eyes. The robotic, plastic behavior melted away. Some part of me felt pride that I may have contributed to that, until it was gone because of what I did.
Chapter 41
Eyes Like Obsidian
JESSICA
Seven Years Ago
Ilose my foothold of the forty-foot climbing wall in the middle of the outdoor obstacle course. I scramble to find purchase with my foot and reach with my other hand for a climbing hold above, but a sharp shooting pain stabs at my ribs. I miss. My foot slips, and I start to fall. I use my magic to try to soften my fall, but it’s too late. I slam to the ground, hitting my back and head.
Clutching my side, I groan in pain. What is wrong with me? Rubbing the center of my chest, I feel my magic there, but why isn’t it working? Lately, it’s been so inconsistent. I don’t know how to correct it. Anders’s instructions don’t seem to matter.
A slight move increases the pain in my side. My entire body feels like it was run over by a semi-truck carrying a load of cement. I turn my head to see two large feet in my line of vision.
“Just shoot me. Put me out of my misery,” I mumble.
Ean crouches. “What the hell is your problem?”
My problem is that I suck. I have been in the recruit program for three months. Three stinking months, and instead of improving, I keep dropping down the scoring board. I was among the top three when I started. Now, I’m lucky if I can stay above fifteenth place.
I train like everyone else, and at night, I train more. I also study for my college courses, and my job demands I produce songs. Maybe Anders is right. He says I need to focus on one thing and get some sleep.
