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My smile gets a little more brittle as I think of my longest foster mom. Granny Jean is as Wiccan as Jade and as eccentric as Madame Pearl. Probably why I feel so comfortable around both. I stayed with her from when I was ten to eighteen, but she never adopted me. Said it wasn’t “the Goddess’ will” or whatever. She’s a cool old broad who lived in a Victorian house that always seemed a little haunted and had advice for everything. Including my moving from Texas to Louisiana to chase a jazz career.

“Don’t do it,” she bluntly said, standing on her dilapidated wrap-around porch, a basket of fresh herbs in her hands and long gray hair blowing in the hot wind. “This won’t end well for you.”

“As long as the beginning’s good,” I snarked back, carrying my duffel down the garden path toward the bus stop without looking back. I regret not looking back. Especially now, with Granny Jean so far away and things ending so badly. I’ve wanted to call a few times, but I felt like I wouldn’t be able to stand her “I told you so.”

Not wanting to think about it, I change the subject. “Anyway, I also have the weekend off. Bruno told me to ‘fix my problem’ before coming back to work.”

My best friend scoffs, rolling her dark eyes. “Stupid bastard. How are you supposed to do that? And what does he think you’ve been trying to do? That you like to move frequently and leave all your stuff in the dead of night because it's good for your health? Asshole.”

I sigh, that hopeless feeling welling in me again. “I know. I don’t know what else to do. I moved across the city, but he found me faster this time. He’s probably tracking me through the club, but I can’t just get a new job. Where else is there a permanent in-house jazz singer position that pays enough to live?”

“Yeah,” she agrees glumly. “You are pretty screwed.”

I laugh again, a short, pained sound. “Yeah, thanks. Bruno said to ‘just fix it.’ I think he even was hinting at killing Colton at one point.”

Jade goes still, her expression thoughtful. The laugh falls off my lips as alarm courses through me. “I’m not actually going to kill him, Jade. That’s crazy.”

“No, of course not,” my friend says thoughtfully, “but that reminds me of something . . .”

Some distant chatter closing in makes Jade cut off whatever she was going to say. A couple of dancers round the corner, probably heading towards wardrobe, and Jade whispers, “Look, not here, okay? We’ll talk after the show. I’ll drive you home.”

“No, Jade, you can’t,” I protest. “You’ll get your tires slashed again.” I suppress a shudder, thinking of all the things Colton has done to drive off my friends. It hasn’t worked on Jade, though. Yet.

Still, the spunky dancer just grins fiercely. “Let him. My mechanic is cute. I like the excuse to visit.”

∆∆∆

THE REST OF THE show goes like clockwork. I go out to sing my midnight set, this time doing much better than last. Without the worry of whether I was going to be fired, I get into my regular groove, my voice coming out like hot butter on warm bread. A few of my regulars stayed for the second show and they gave me roaring applause, making me laugh at their antics. I raise both my hands up in a wave and blow them a kiss, which makes them go even crazier. Silly, sweet retirees with nothing better to do than flatter my ego every night. I love them. I’ll miss them the most when I finally do get fired.

The crushed velvet curtain falls, and once again I do the switch with Mercury, sidling off the stage while she gets into position, a handstand on a gold hoop that’ll be lifted into the air. God, I love her act, but I’m exhausted, and Jade will be waiting to take me home as the dancers are done for the night. I get to my dressing table and shimmy out of my costume and back into my t-shirt and running shorts.

I pass Judy back my costume, who takes it with a muttered thanks. In the back hallway, I walk toward the parking lot doors and nearly knock into Jasmine, the same one Jade said was planning on taking my set.

“‘Night, Andi,” she says, all Southern sweetness before stepping around me. She was born and raised around here. I’ve never really thought about it, but she probably hates that an outsider pulled the coveted Nightingale slot with only one audition, and now she has to play understudy.

I give her a tight, no-teeth smile. “‘Night, Jas.” Though the knowledge hurts, it’s good to know that she’s not really my friend. I won’t be doing her any more favors, like free voice coaching, in the future. Being a foster kid, you learn it’s better to see the snakes in the grass earlier rather than later.

Jade is standing by the big metal double doors that lead to the parking lot, wearing her typical after-show outfit of yoga clothes. Tonight’s outfit is a pretty yellow that complements her rich sepia skin tone and picks up the gold notes of her faux-blonde curls. As usual, she’s flirting with one of the bouncers, Henri. He looks like an MMA fighter, complete with facial tattoos and huge muscles, but he’s always been a teddy bear to us girls. Helps that he’s as gay as they come, so he never hits on us. Doesn’t stop Jade from trying. She calls it “practice,” though I know she’s just joking around, and that’s their relationship.

After I greet Jade, she turns away from Henri and gives me a wide smile. “About time. I was about to send the hounds to look for you.”

“The hounds?” I ask wryly. I love that Jade can still make me smile.

“Well, I couldn’t send the cops. Fat lot of good that’d do me.”

My smile becomes a little strained at the reminder of how useless the authorities have been with my troubles. But I know Jade means nothing by it, so I keep my smile pasted on.

“Let me escort you ladies to your car,” Henri says, pushing open the one unlocked door. I realize Jade must have asked Henri to be here in case Colton was waiting in the parking lot. I hate that I need an escort, but I’m not in any position to refuse, so I just give the bouncer a brief nod of thanks and follow him to Jade’s beater.

The parking lot is quiet and well-lit, the shapes of the performer’s cars looking orange under the light from the lamps. Jade flirts some more at Henri, who takes it with aplomb, laughing at Jade's antics, but his posture stays at the ready. He’s expecting trouble, and I don’t blame him. It wouldn’t be the first time that Colton has confronted me here, unafraid of the cameras pointing at him. Why would he be? He’s friends with every politician in town and most of the cops. Nothing I throw at him ever sticks.

My thoughts are dark as we finally get to Jade’s car. The words “bitch” and “cunt” are keyed into the passenger side of the vehicle, and I know matching words are on the driver’s side; a present from Colton after Jade drove me home one time. She says that those words from an asshole are badges of honor, so she hasn’t even tried to buff them out. I slide into my seat and buckle. I expect Henri to leave, but he surprises me by opening the back door and checking the back seat. My blood runs cold. I didn’t even think that Colton could have been waiting there. But Henri just closes the door again, satisfied that it’s empty, and waits until Jade gets in and locks the door.

“You have a good rest of the night, ladies,” he says, before heading back to the theater.

Jade turns over the engine, which fights her a little bit before finally starting. When the engine is rumbling, she pulls it into reverse and peels out of the parking lot, faster than I think is necessary, but she’s the one driving.

When we’re on the road, I finally ask, “Ok, what is it you wanted to talk about?”