Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Mrs. Roth grimaces. “My God, Bianca. Be a little more discreet.”
“Apologies.” I cross my arms. “I didn’t want anyone else to come in, so I blocked the door. I didn’t think I’d be in here as long as I was. I’m so sorry for keeping you, ma’am.”
Mrs. Roth rolls her eyes and huffs past me into a stall. I breathe a sigh of relief. She didn’t choose the one that leads to the secret crawlspace.
I leave the bathroom and make a beeline toward my dressing room. When I get there, I finally allow the weight of my discovery to fall on me, if only for a moment. The tears starts flowing, and I scream into a lacey makeup towel while trying not to lose whatever is left in my stomach.
I allow myself three minutes.
That’s all the time I have.
When you’re an actress, you learn to leave your personal life at the door when you walk on the stage for a performance.
Even the discovery of the cooler of hearts, as horrific as it is, can be compartmentalized. It has to be. I have no choice.
I take a deep breath in. Another. A third.
Harrison is safe. Rouge didn’t find him in the club tonight.
If she had…
God, I can’t think about his heart sitting in that cooler.
He’s okay.
That’s what matters right now.
Everything else can wait.
I wipe my eyes, retouch my makeup where it’s been blurred by my tears.
I swallow down the feelings and exit my dressing room, head to the stage.
Showtime.
2
HARRISON
What the fuck was in that crawlspace?
Bianca wanted me out of here as quickly as possible.
I lean against the red door that leads to the women’s restroom. The stifled hustle and bustle of female patrons using the facilities buzzes through.
I can’t go back inside. They’d scream, and then Rouge would find me.
But I’m wearing next to nothing. I came here in a trench coat, but Bianca threw that in her dressing room once we got to Aces.
More importantly, I don’t have my phone or my wallet.
I can’t call an Uber. Can’t even pay for a cab.
All I have on me is this extremely tight, extremely small pair of black shorts.
It’s March. Mid-March.
The seventeenth of March. St. Patrick’s Day.
Happy fucking birthday to me.
It’s not too cold outside, but it’s not exactly balmy either.
We took Bianca’s car. She has a reserved spot in the Aces parking garage, and my Cadillac is a little too conspicuous for us to have brought it. I’m sure Chet and Rouge know everything about me, and they’d be able to figure out something was up if they saw my vehicle parked in Bianca’s spot.
Bianca’s face was sheet white when she emerged from the crawlspace.
Whatever she found back there has her fucking haunted. And she wanted me to get out of Aces as quickly as humanly possible.
Will she be okay?
I want nothing more than to go back through to Aces and make sure she’s all right. I can’t even text her without my phone.
Fuck fuck fuck.
But I can’t go back through the waitstaff entrance. And I certainly won’t get past Chet in the patron entrance.
That’s not what Bianca wants anyway. She clearly thinks I’m in danger if I stay here.
The best thing I can do is figure out how the hell I’m getting home and then contact her from there. We’ll regroup and she can finally tell me what exactly she found in that hidden area above the ladies’ toilets.
Now it’s time to think.
I’m nearly naked. No phone, no wallet, no keys.
What’s my next move?
I’m not too far from St. Charles. It’s a brisk walk from here.
Particularly brisk since I’m essentially in my underwear.
I open the door that leads to the alleyway off the main one we normally take into Aces. I’m barefoot, of fucking course. So I have to avoid the small stones and broken shards of glass that litter the alleyway. Once I’m on the actual streets, it’s a little smoother.
But now people are staring at me.
I pay them no mind. I keep my eyes forward and head toward the hospital.
This is Chicago. I’m not the first weirdo who’s wandered the streets in next to nothing. At least the good bits are covered up. I won’t be arrested for public indecency.
God willing no one who sees me will recognize me.
The last thing I need is this getting back to the higher-ups at the hospital. If they received word that one of their doctors was spotted wandering the city wearing nothing but a tiny pair of booty shorts, I’d be looking for another job. They’d think I was drunk or strung out.
But it doesn’t matter if someone does see me. I’d give up my whole career and all the perks that come with it to help Bianca.
Once we bring this to light, Rouge will go to prison for a long, long time. Whatever Bianca found was clearly evidence of something terrible.