Page 8 of Vampire Soldier

Perry scoffs. “You mean the retired ballet teacher who made it clear she doesn’t approve of burlesque? Or the contemporary dancer who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else? Blake Taylor is the one. You know it. I know it. Everyone in that room knows it.”

I glare at him, my golden eyes flashing behind my contacts. “I have my reasons.”

“Bullshit,” Perry snaps. “You hired me to help make this the best restaurant and theater in the state. I’m telling you, that woman is the key to our success. She’s even better than Courtney. If you don’t interview her, I’m walking out. I can’t help you ruin this place.”

I growl, the sound low and threatening. “Careful.”

He stands his ground, his expression softening to one of pleading. “Just talk to her. Ask your questions. If you don’t like her answers, fine. But give her a chance.”

I hate that he’s right. Blake is our best shot at launching this place successfully after Courtney quit. With a sigh, I relent and wave at the door. “Fine. Send her in.”

Perry grins, clearly relieved, and hurries out of my office. I pour another whiskey, bracing myself for the storm that’s about to walk through my door.

The storm named Blake Taylor.

ChapterFour

BLAKE

I’m so screwed. Of all people, it’s him walking away from me now after coldly dismissing me. Completely opposite of the heat I experienced with him days before. I barely hear what Perry is saying, nodding along and numbly walking to the bar as instructed.

I set the borrowed burlesque fans on the pristine bar, a detached part of my mind noting how Tonya would approve of the cleanliness.

“What can I get you?” the woman behind the bar asks, her hazel eyes kind. “Water? Something harder? I’m Carla, by the way.” She sticks her hand out over the bar for me to shake.

“No, thanks though.” I shake her hand and try to smile, but I’m not sure I’m successful. “I’m Blake. Not that it matters since I’m clearly not getting the job.”

Carla scoffs as she crosses her arms. “Boss man would be an idiot to hire someone else over you. Seriously, I don’t know why they didn’t go with you instead of Courtney in the first place.”

“What happened with that, anyway?” It probably isn’t considered professional to ask, but I admit I’m nosy. “If you can talk about it, that is,” I add quickly.

“What didn’t happen?” She sounds so annoyed I actually laugh. It makes her crack a smile before she continues, bracing herself on her forearms as she leans on the bar. “So, Courtney was a good choreographer and manager. Professionally? Solid. But she apparently thought it was a good idea to start flirting with, then sleeping with one of the dancers’ boyfriends. Her and the dancer got into a damn cat fight on stage. Perry had to get between them to keep them from drawing blood. Courtney quit on the spot because Mal wasn’t completely on her side. The other dancer was fired too, of course, but at least she walked out with some dignity.”

My brows shoot upwards before I shake my head. “That’s insane. I can’t imagine what made her think it was a good idea to start something with a dancer’s boyfriend.”

Carla straightens and lifts her hands up flat in a shrug. “Who knows. It was an insane day, to say the least.”

My morning had been crazy, but nothing like that. It started with Charlie oversleeping and running late for the school bus.

Then, mid hair wash in my shower, the hot water sputtered like there was air in the pipes, then turned freezing cold. I rinsed the shampoo from my hair and bailed out of the tub, already dreading having to deal with my landlord. It seems the universe was conspiring against me getting to this side of town on time for my interview.

By the time I made it to the building, almost ten minutes late, I’d cursed old people for being so slow getting on or off the bus, idiot drivers for making more traffic than necessary, and even whomever created the program for the traffic lights as it seemed the bus hit every. single. one. Thinking about it, it makes total sense for Malachi ending up as the owner making the final decisions. It’s par for the course for the day I’ve had. Of course the universe couldn’t give me a break.

After having been rejected before I even got an interview for the stage producer of this new restaurant and burlesque theater, I hadn’t ever expected to hear from Perry at all. But when he called me two days ago and asked if I was still interested in the position, I didn’t even care that I needed to learn an entire routine in less than 48 hours. I love dancing and I’m damn good at it. And my boss, Tonya, and the rest of the girls at the club were supportive and helped me practice while Charlie was at school.

I don’t even know why I’m waiting. The moment I realized who was in the audience, I knew there was no way I was getting the position. All renewed hope just disappeared. All the world’s a stage, and the curtains dropped to cut me off from it. Again.

I consider taking Carla up on a house drink. I’ll have one, let myself be disappointed for a minute or two, and then get up and walk out the door. I have a good job. I’m not worried about missing rent or bills. Sure, life is tight and I can’t splurge on Charlie as much as she deserves, but we’re good. Not getting the stage producer job sucks, but it’s not the end of the world.

“Ms. Taylor!”

Great. I paste a smile on before turning towards him.

“Mr. Quinn. I know you asked me to stick around, but I don’t think this will be the right position for me. I thank you for your time, and again, I apologize for being late earlier. Please give?—“

He gets to the bottom of the stairs, his expression more encouraging than the frown he’d greeted me with earlier. He holds up a palm, asking me to stay.

“Mr. Casadecappa has re-evaluated and has invited you to his office to conduct the final questions of the interview,” he says in a rush, like he expects me to turn and run at any moment. Which, to be fair, I’m really tempted to. “Unless you truly want to leave?”

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