Hold You Against Me (Stripped 4)

“I can’t see you anymore.” Can’t continue a cycle that isn’t healthy for either of us. And most of all, I can’t pretend I’m not in love with a dead man anymore. “I’m sorry.”

His expression flickers with hurt, with anger. “You’re pissed. I get it.”

“I’m not angry.” My voice comes out mournful enough that I know he believes me. “I’m done.”

He sucks in a breath. “Don’t do this to me, Clara. I need you.”

It’s one of the few times he’s used my real name, and it transports me back to that first meeting at the coffee cart, his uncertainty, his charm. The need clenching his fists in my hair the first time we kissed. There’s some part of

him that does want me, need me. But nothing can really happen between us. It’s not only about his asshole friends or his tendency to drink. It’s about me being hung up on another man.

“Shane…what happened after I left? Who was the guy who stopped you?”

A scowl darkens his face. “I never saw the bastard clearly. By the time that fucking bouncer came around, he was gone.”

Something trembles inside me—uncertainty? Hope? God, I’m so messed up. A shadowy image flashes through my mind, a familiar face. I’ve sketched it so many times. “They didn’t catch his face…like on a security camera or something?”

He snorts. “Security camera? It was fucking nighttime. Besides, no one was looking at tapes. The bouncer told me to get lost. Said I wasn’t welcome at that club anymore, that he’d blacklist me from the entire Party Row.”

I can’t help but wonder how much of his sudden desire to stop partying comes from that. “Shane,” I say as gently and as firmly as I can. “I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

His expression hardens, and I see the sharp edges of the man who hurt me last night. Cold eyes rake over my cami and loose pants, my toes peeking out the bottom in my flip-flops. “I can’t believe I waited for you. Rick was right about you. You’re just a frigid bitch after all.”

The sun flicks through leaves, blinding me for seconds at a time. I watch Shane cross the plush green university lawn.

I know I did the right thing in breaking up. Shane’s parting words proved that, if nothing else. But it still lends a somber air to the afternoon. Tonight is my big break, but I can’t shake the feeling of danger. Of dread. I had the same feeling the day my sister and I had to run. The same day Giovanni died.

Chapter Six

“Without further delay, please let me present to you all an incredible artist and lovely young woman.”

Candy hands me the microphone with an encouraging smile.

I climb the small steps to the temporary stage, my heart thumping inside my chest. A hundred of Tanglewood’s wealthiest people fill the courtyard, swathed in linen and silk and jewels. Some of these same people frequented the Grand when it was a strip club, anonymous and furtive. Now they’re here with a mixture of pride and disdain—and the same prurient curiosity as before.

My hand shakes as I hold the microphone tight. A sharp, high-pitched sound arcs over the crowd before falling silent. I hold curved metal close to my mouth and speak.

“Thank you for having me tonight.” My voice comes out shaky, so I take a deep breath. This is important. Not just for my career, but for my sister. For my friends.

Candy overcame the odds to be standing here tonight, looking glamorous and confident. No one would know she once shivered in a dirty white shift under the control of a cult leader. She’s the one who turned this place into a burlesque show.

I grip the microphone tighter. “It’s an honor to be here tonight, sharing my work with you. But this night isn’t about me. And it’s not really about all of you either.”

There are a few soft gasps in the audience.

“This is about the women onstage, the ones who dance under those bright lights, night after night. Their costumes are beautiful, their makeup flawless.” My voice grows stronger as I look at my sister, tears shining in her dark eyes, Kip’s arms around her. “Their dancing is powerful and elegant, but that’s not why we’re here either.”

I look at Lola, who overcame so much just to grow up. Things most people take for granted. A home, parents. Enough food to eat. She started stripping at the Grand to support the only foster parent who ever cared about her.

“We’re here to celebrate the women inside, beneath skin and muscle, bone-deep. The resilience of the human spirit. We’re here because we want to bask in their strength, if only for a few hours. As if even the sight of them raised up will lift us too.”

My voice cracks on the last word, and I can’t shake the dread from earlier, the danger. Can’t shake the feeling that this is goodbye. I nod to the men dressed in suits on either side of the fountain. They reach for the black silk covering the angel and pull it away.

The crowd audibly sucks in a breath at the sight of the angel, standing proudly in the center of the fountain—her wings stretched as if to take flight, her eyes with all the dark knowledge of this earth and all the painful hope for more.

I step down, my insides still quivering from being onstage, and the crowd sweeps me up. It’s gorgeous, transcendent. Who was your model? Do you take commissions? What’s your availability?

Honor manages to squeeze in beside me and encircles me in a hug. “You were wonderful up there,” she whispers.