Heartstopper(21)

I blink, clearing my mind. I'm about to tell him that what happened in  the elevator and later when we got down and dirty was a fluke, that it  can't happen again. Suddenly, he grins, holding up a hand. "Wait, I can  see what's in your eyes, and I'll let you tell me, but first . . . I  have a proposition for you."

"What?" I ask, hoping and also not hoping it's for me to get on my knees under his desk. Because I just might do it if he asks.

"Nathan's been going gaga all weekend, and I have too. We want to put  you as a drawing act. One night on the weekends. You said you love to  sing. The pay would be good. Not better than here, but it's only one  night a week."

I stand in shock. I hadn't expected something like this. Sexual? Sure. But to sing . . . "Oh, my God."

"The people loved you. Nathan and I were shocked by how many people  requested for you to come back. Seriously, you should see the club's  Facebook page. There's over three hundred likes to someone requesting  that you sing some more. They want you."

His eyes gleam, seeming to say, And I want you too.

I breathe, still stunned. The tune of the song I've begun writing for  him hums in my head. Staring at his face, I realize I can't say no to  him. I'm weak in the knees. But I also don't know if I should say yes.

"Well?" he says, taking his seat behind his desk and giving me that same smile. "I know you want this."

I stand there, leaning against his office door, uncertain. The fact is,  music to me is like an addiction. It was so hard to walk away from it  last time. I spent weeks unable to sleep on Fridays and Saturdays  because those were my performance nights. I still wake up sometimes with  a little voice inside me wondering where the stage is, where the crowds  are.

If I do this, I don't want that to happen again. Jake doesn't know what  he's asking for. I'll have to train again. Vocal exercises, getting my  body back in shape to maintain the high energy performances that I have  to do . . . wardrobe, practicing lyrics, all of it. How's it going to  affect my work?

I tried the club scene before, and it went nowhere but having one club  love me. This can't be much different. Sure, I'm excited right at this  moment, and yeah, Club Jasmine loved me Friday night, but once people  got used to me, it would die down. I'd be right back to being a local  act and that's it.

Still, maybe it's enough. The idea of singing, of being on stage . . .  even if it's not my name selling out big shows, it feeds a piece of my  heart. When I sing, I put my soul out there, vulnerable and excited to  see if the audience will respond with cheers. And I can see Jake  genuinely wants me to do it. Damn me, there's a part of me that wants to  please him, too. Finally, I take a deep breath and look into his  expectant eyes.

"I'll think about it."





Chapter 15





Jake





I hate the smell of cigar smoke. Sure, it's got the whole alpha male  mystique attached to it, but damn if most cigars don't smell like  burning dirty undershirts.

Tell that to Nathan, though. "We're looking at recouping our investment  and turning a working profit within six months," Nathan says over a haze  of his cigar smoke. Thank God we're up here where nobody except  security is allowed and the air conditioners can deal with his  disgusting habit.         

     



 

"Show me the money," I say, sitting back and rubbing my hands in relief  that this is going well. I was half-expecting for us to fall flat on our  faces. I knew the market. So many clubs fail. But everything is turning  out better than I dreamed.

"We're killing it, Jake!" Nathan says, grinning while sipping on some  champagne, "And with karaoke night being a success, I think we should  adopt it regularly. By the way, did your girl say yes about doing  weekends?"

My girl. The thought is strange, but I like the sound of it. After I  tasted her, after I filled her up and carried her to bed, I know that  Nathan's right. Even now, I can't stop thinking about her.

"She said she would think about it." I don't point out that she isn't my girl. She will be soon enough.

"Think about it?" Nathan asks, surprised. "Didn't you say she was crazy about singing? What gives?"

I think back to what she told me and what I saw in her room. "She has  some hang-ups. She's been burned before. But I think she'll come  through."

Nathan shakes his head and puffs some more cigar smoke toward the  ceiling. "Shit, I hope so. Those people were in fucking love with her!  She rocked that stage like nobody's business. Shit, Beyoncé who? Selena  what? Fuck that skank bitch Miley Cyrus. I'm telling you, man, Roxy  should be a household name! One name too. She's gonna be so big if you  say Roxy, the whole fuckin' world knows who we're talkin' about."

I sit back, sipping my own champagne and chuckling to myself. It's funny  how Nathan went from calling her a sleazy broad to this. But I don't  blame him. Part of that is Nathan. He's always been one to do a lot of  shit talking until he really likes you. Most of it is Roxy, though. Her  taking this gig will end up doing big things for her. I can just feel  it.

I chuckle. "Brother, I totally agree. She is pretty amazing, isn't she?"

Andre's voice crackles over the small walkie Nathan carries. "Hey, I think that creepy dude is back at his shit."

My heart jumps in my chest as we both leap to our feet, Nathan just a  fraction of an inch faster in snatching the radio up. "Where?" Nathan  almost yells.

Andre's voice crackles back. "At the bar. Near the bathrooms. He's wearing a fucking purple blazer. Can't miss him."

We both take off, Nathan running ahead of me, pumping his shorter legs  as fast as they will allow. I'm behind him simply because I don't want  to send him tumbling down the stairs. It's early still, and the club  isn't quite packed since it's just a Thursday night. We reach the foot  of the stairs and I reach out, grabbing Nathan's shoulder. "Wait!"

"What?" he asks, turning. "Let's go bust this motherfucker!"

"No doubt," I reply, "but we need to make sure we don't freak everyone out. Go chill, okay?"

Nathan takes a big breath but nods. "Fine, I'm chill. Now where is he so I can go unchill?"

We look, and I see him first at the bar, that loud blazer making him  stand out. He's pressuring some girl who's saying no in heavily-accented  English.

The game is up, though, when the girl's eyes flicker over to Nathan and  me in desperation and the guy turns. Seeing us, he takes off. Nathan  flies through the crowd while I cut at an angle. He's so busy looking  behind him for Nathan that I barely have to do anything to grab his arm  and spin him around, locking him in an armlock with my other hand  grabbing the back of his horrendous jacket. "Shouldn't have come back," I  say in a threatening tone.

"Let me go, man!" the guy whines, squirming in my grasp. "I didn't do nothing!"

"You're full of shit, you . . ." Nathan yells before he lowers his  voice, getting up close to the guy as I start pulling him toward the  door. "You're fucking scum of the earth," Nathan rasps.

Nathan leads the way to the side door as we drag the guy outside. I see  John, one of the security guys, covering our back, which I'm glad for.  The former Delta Force operative can make sure we don't take things too  far.

"Is this your thing, going around and drugging women in clubs?" Nathan demands as I hold onto the guy. "How many?"

The guy sputters, trying to play it innocent. "I didn't drug nobody. I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying, asshole," I rasp in his ear, jerking him around. "I drank  one of your little spiked beers. So Nathan, what do we do to him?"         

     



 

"You already know my answer. I say eye for a fuckin' eye," Nathan  growls, cracking his knuckles. "He wants to drug and fuck women? I say  we make him a bitch."

Nathan's threat makes the man struggle wildly, and he jerks his head  back, catching me on the lip. I feel my lip split, and I grunt in pain  as I pull my head back, loosening my grip just enough that the guy  breaks free.

He takes off, trying to make a run for it, but Nathan's quick for his  size and tackles him around the knees, taking him down to the ground.  Before Nathan can move, though, the guy kicks Nathan in the shoulder and  tries to get up before my flying bodyweight drives him onto his back on  the concrete.

I pop him once in the face, his head rocking back and hitting the  concrete. I rear back again, but Nathan grabs me, pulling me off.

"He's done, man!" he says. "His head went down pretty hard. You keep going and you'll be talking with the cops."

He's right. Adrenaline just kind of took over. "John, call the cops," I say.

"Just a second," Nathan says, turning and punting the guy as hard as he  can in the ass. He howls in pain, and I gotta believe that a size eight  pointy wing tip up your ass has to hurt. "Get this fucking piece of shit  outta here!"