Page 92 of Dance of Madness

I snort. “This’ll be good. Who’d you fuck?”

“Étienne’s girlfriend.”

Brooklyn makes a face, but Val quickly holds up a finger.

“Forcontext, before Miss Judgement over here climbs down my fucking throat, I wasinvitedto do so. They wanted to spice shit up and bring in another dude…” He shrugs. “My reputation?—”

“Precedes itself, by about a mile,” I interject.

Val bows dramatically. “Precisely,” he grins.

“So…?” Brooklyn prods. “If you were invited to join them, how’d you fuck it up with our illustrious guest artist?”

Étienne normally dances with the Paris Opera Ballet. But he's guesting here for two months.

“First of all,” Val grunts, raising a middle finger. “Fuck you very much.”

“Just tell us what happened,” I sigh, rolling my eyes.

“Fine,” Val mutters. “Étienne’s straight, so it was just meant to be about her. But…” He arches his brows as he pulls on his top. “Apparently Simone doesn’t moan like that withhim…”

Brooklyn grins. “Oh,shit.”

“Dude, tell me about it,” Val sighs. “Plus, I mean, size-wise, it was real awkward when I took off my?—”

“Ah-dat-dat-dat-dat,” Brooklyn cuts in, shaking her head and a finger as she pulls her leotard up. “Nope. TM-fucking-I, my dude.”

“So this is why you’re not welcome for the time being in the men's room,” I sigh.

Val nods. “Exactly. He fucked around and found out his girlfriend actuallycomeswith another dude. Not my problem, though.”

“No, just ours,” I smile sweetly at him as we all finish up and head for the door.

Brooklyn holds me back for a second.

“Hey,” she says quietly after Val is out of earshot. “Look, what you saw…”

My face twists. “James?” I ask quietly.

She gives me a pleading look. “It’sdone,okay? For real, it’s not a thing anymore. I swear, I’m okay.” Her brow quirks up. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

I make a face. “Pass.”

“Fuck that. What happened?”

Oh, I got chased by a maniac through a haunted mansion, got the shit railed out of me, and came literally more times than I can count. No big deal.

The instant I think that, other thoughts and emotions filter into me.

The emptiness. The confusion aboutwhyI feel empty.

“Nothing.”

She groans, rolling her eyes. “Well, itlookslike you got fucked by a biker gang.”

I snort. “Nah, only half of one.”

She grins. “Asshole.”

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