I'm dancing for the memory. The way he'd looked at me with a mix of heat and tenderness when I'd slowly unbuttoned my sundress. The way he'd made me feel beautiful and exotic and terribly sexy even in white cotton panties and a plain, unlined bra.
Admit it, Kelsey, I order myself. You're here for the memory-for the man-as much as for the money.
And it's true. It really is.
And that's so not good.
Nia had said pretty much the same thing when she called me back and I started to chew her out for not telling me that W. Royce and Wyatt Segel are one in the same.
"The guy from the Santa Barbara country club? The one you were with that night when-"
"Yes. Who else? I can't believe you didn't tell me."
"Whoa, whoa! Hold on, girlfriend. I swear, I didn't know. Do you really think I'd blindside you like that?"
I frowned, because she was right; I didn't really believe that. Of everyone in my life other than Griffin, Nia is the person I trust the most.
We met when we shared a dorm my freshman year of college. She dropped out in the middle of our first semester when her modeling career took off, but it didn't matter. We'd already spent too many long nights sharing each other's secrets, and you just can't put the brakes on that kind of a friendship.
She's the only one who knows what really happened between me and Wyatt. I'd told her after I'd dodged her third attempt to set me up with a random guy from one of her classes.
"Wow," she'd said when I'd finished laying out the story. "No wonder you're such a neurotic mess."
No wonder, indeed. But at least she's always understood why I keep myself in check, not pushing the envelope. Not taking risks.
And, honestly, I like my life the way it is. It's uncomplicated and ordered, and I know what to expect.
Or, rather, I like the way it was. Back before I set my sights on earning fifteen grand. Before I walked into that studio, and Wyatt fell back into my life.
"I mean, come on, Kels," she continued during our call this evening. "Just because I think we need to shove your OCD into a box and slam it tight, doesn't mean I'm going to throw you to the wolves."
"I know. I'm sorry. It's just been a crazy, freaky day."
"I get that," she said. "But the real question is, did you get the job?"
"Undetermined," I'd told her, then explained about tonight.
"X-tasy? I know I've been saying that you need to let go, but are you sure about this?" I heard genuine concern in her voice. "I mean, think about it, Kels. What kind of door are you opening? And can you handle whatever's on the other side?"
I knew the answer then, and I know it now: I'm opening a door that should stay closed. But what choice do I have?
I need this job. I need to help my brother.
Besides, I'd kicked that door wide open the moment I agreed to go to the audition in Nia's place. I hadn't known it at the time. I hadn't planned it. But now that it's open, I can't go back.
All I can do is hope that he'll help me.
All I can do is try to protect my heart.
I exhale slowly, then shift my torso to stretch out my other side, trying to concentrate on my body instead of the mish-mash of thoughts in my head. I'm successful for about seven seconds, then Madonna's voice starts to fade out and the audience applauds and shouts a few catcalls. Moments later, the girl bounces back into the dressing area. I hadn't been watching, but from the way she's smiling, I'm guessing she did okay.
That's two so far I have to beat.
The girl who's performing immediately before me wrings her hands as she stands in front of the curtain, then turns and looks in my direction, her eyes wide with fear.
I smile sympathetically, but the truth is that I don't understand that kind of stage fright. The fear of making a mistake, sure. But being on stage is like being alive, but in a world that's perfect and beautiful, and where I'm always in control.
Her music starts, and she makes a little squeaking noise before bounding onto the stage when her name is called. As soon as she's through the curtain, I hurry over to the dressing area and sit at the sticky, stained dressing table I'd claimed. I know I have time. The staff already told us that after she dances, there will be a ten-minute break for the audience to order fresh food and drinks. Then I'll perform, followed by the rest of the girls.
I dig in my purse for my lip balm, and as I do, I see my phone light up with a call. It's on silent, and I consider letting it ring through to voicemail, but it's Griffin.
I press the button to connect, "Hey, make it fast. I'm in the middle of something."