Page 47 of Burned By Sin
That’s before two muscled male assistants appear, just as sparkly and scarcely dressed, each one holding a flaming ring. Every female in the bleachers suddenly sits upright, myself included. I hear Rhys’ grumbling response but I smack his thigh, engrossed as Katrina curves into a C-shape and holds still while the men carefully pass the fire around her body. Gasps ripple through the crowd, equally as entranced. It’s like that game where you can’t touch the wire or get buzzed, only this time, if she slips, she’ll getburned.
Flipping into a handstand, her legs split open in a perfect line. The assistants hold out metal rods, and she grips them with her toes before they balance the lit rings onto the bars. The crowd leaps to their feet,cheers echoing through the gym as the music crescendos and her act ends in a blaze of applause.
“Wow,” I breathe, grinning at Clay as I settle back into my seat. “That was awesome!” The corner of his mouth twitches in a reluctant smile, not seeming half as impressed as the rest of us. I lace my fingers through his and arch a brow. “What? You think you could do better?”
“She was never in any real danger. It’s all part of the theatrics,” Clay rolls his eyes.
“Ahh, so you’re a cynic. That tracks,” I give him a sly smile. “Maybe you can try fire play with me sometime.” A vendor carrying a tray passes with refreshments as the acts change over, and I reach for a plastic cup of soda. Rhys slaps my hand away and takes a bottle of water instead, planting it in my grasp while Clay mumbles directly into his mic for my hearing only.
“If that’s a kink of yours, I’m game.”
I fumble with the water, spilling it onto my knees. Whilst Rhys huffs and pats me down with some tissues, clearly jealous of not receiving any attention, I throw my head back and laugh. I enjoy seeing the playful side to Clayton far more than any act that will grace the stage. Resting back in my seat, I settle in for the next act with Rhys’ hand settling on my thigh.
I wish I could say the talent show just got better and better, but unfortunately, I think Katrina set the bar too high. There are more than a few pitchy singers, a couple of dancers who can’t seem to find the beat, and one poor magician whose dove escaped right out of his jacket pocket. When Rhys offers me a swig from the hip flask he smuggled in, I take it without hesitation. The whiskey burns down my throat, but it’s a welcome distraction from the ass-numbing plastic seat beneath me.
“Next up is Sheila Newton, ready to impress you with some stand-up comedy.” Addy’s eyes dart around nervously, her laughter fake and high-pitched before she hops off the stage. Oh god, she’s panicking. I take my cue to be the support my best friend, preparing to stand.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to the guys, but both of them clamp their hands on my thighs to keep me rooted in place. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, understanding they’re protective but also that we’re in the most public of places. I’ve refused to live in fear up to now, so this would be a terrible time to start. “Stop it both of you. Addy needs a friend, and I need to pee. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
I aim my plea at Rhys since he’s the one most likely to argue. When I flutter my lashes and pout, he finally sighs.
“Ten minutes,” he grits through his teeth, eyes sharpened like daggers. “Then I’m coming to find you.” I grin, needing to take care of the background noise first. There’s nothing worse than peeing while listening to private conversations, especially when they’re threatening to kill one another in my honor. Switching off Rhys’ mic and kissing his cheek, I slip out of my seat. Bending to turn off Clay’s too, I attempt to give him a chaste kiss also, but Rhys’s hand lands on my ass with a sharp sting. I glare at him as he mouths, “Get moving. I’m counting.”
These men will be the death of me, of that there’s no doubt. I’m not even mad about it. There are far worse ways to go. Snorting to myself, I shuffle along the row and edge around the side of the court. There’s a black tent concealing the locker room entrance, and I slip inside, thankful for the momentary escape from the crowded sports arena.
Addy’s easy to spot. She’s pacing in small circles, wringing her fingers together as commotion swirls around her. Students drag props, others shout instructions, a dog is barking for their owner’s attention, and Addy is oblivious to it all. When she sees me, she barrels into my arms so hard I stumble back a step. Her breath fans across my neck, but I can’t make out her words, so I step back and sign that my receivers are at home.
‘It’s terrible. The acts weren’t this bad in practice. What am I going to do?’she signs in a panic. I still her fretting fingers and force her to mimic a deep breath with me.
‘No, it’snot terrible. Just… not great,’I sign back with a wince. ‘Why don’t you get up there and dance? You’re an incredible dancer.’
Addy’s shoulders sag, her smile barely flickering before the dog in its ruffled collar bounds between us, dragging its owner behind a tangle of leashes.
‘I can’t compete. I’m the organizer,’she signs once the chaos has passed. Her bottom lip wobbles, and tears shine in her eyes. Addy doesn’t do “less than perfect.” To her, anything short of excellence is failure.
‘Okay, breathe’,I sign, resting a hand on her arm. ‘Everyone’s having fun, and no one’s going to hold you responsible for a few off-key performances. Just save your best act for last, so everyone goes home smiling, okay?’
Addy exhales shakily, then leans in to hug me, her arms looping around my neck. I rub her back until she steadies.
‘You’re right,’she signs finally, a real smile breaking through. ‘I do have a huge surprise planned for after the show. I can’t wait for you to see it!’I raise a curious brow, but I don’t ask for more information. I’m just glad to see her spark returning.
‘Sounds good,’ I sign with a wink. “Now I have to hit the bathroom before Rhys comes hunting for me.”
Heading deeper into the locker room, my gaze catches on Clay’s locker. It’s spotless now, but I can still see what it used to look like burned into my memory. I still can’t believe Rhys’ hacker hasn’t been able to dig up anything. Still, with each day that passes, I think Rhys was right to not go to the police. I don’t want to run the risk of having our business splashed on the front covers of every paper. So much for laying low and staying visible.
I know there’s a small private bathroom past the showers, so I continue on in that direction. The door’s closed, and when I test it, it feels locked. I lean against the wall, giving it a minute. I know Rhys. If I take too long, he’ll probably insist onsupervising.He hasn’t crossed that line yet, but the man’s getting close.
I smile, remembering our afternoon together. Making progress with the king of self-destruction is like scaling a mountain barefoot. It takes patience and blood, but standing at the top with him, finally getting through to him, that’s a high no substance could ever match.
The door opens suddenly, and I find myself staring into a pair of cold blue eyes. Klara. Her over-foundationed face twists in disgust, her fake lashes fluttering like they might fly off. She blocks the doorway, refusing to move. We’ve already danced this dance before. I know she hits like a toddler and hates losing. So she sticks to glaring, her stare sharp enough to cut glass.
“He was mine first, you know,”she mouths. I roll my eyes. Not this again. Her gaze drifts down me and back up with that ‘what do you have that I don’t?’look, and I can’t help but pity her.
“Green’s not a good color on you,” I say flatly, attempting to step around her, but she mirrors me like a bratty twin. Her perfectly manicured brows pinch together.
“I’m not wearing green,” she replies, utterly confused. I shouldn’t burst out laughing in her face, but I can’t help it. I’m all for girls standing together and raising each other up, but she can’t be that dim-witted, surely? Pushing past her, not taking no for an answer, I slam the door before Klara can say anything else. She needs to move on. In an ideal world, she could find someone who can show her her worth, but I understand that Mr. Kavanagh and Mr. Waversea have other plans for their children. Ones that will see them both trapped in misery for the rest of their lives.
One problem at a time. I move further into the small bathroom, eyeing the oval mirror hanging above the basin and small window of frosted glass above it. Quickly taking care of business, I wash my hands and study my reflection in the mirror above the sink.
