I went to my dressing table, snatched up my phone and called Brutus.
“Yo!” he answered, the sounds of the club in the background seeing as when Brutus wasn’t picking me up and driving me home he was a bouncer.
“Brutus, baby, it’s Ivey.”
“Woman, got caller ID, you don’t have to identify yourself every time you call me.”
Brutus said this a lot.
He went on.
“And, my name is not f**kin’ Brutus.”
He said this a lot too.
As you can see, Brutus wasn’t a big fan of his nickname.
“Listen, can you pick me up out back tonight after the show?”
“Why?” he barked, alert at that. I only asked him that when I got a bad vibe or someone sent something to my dressing room who was in the audience and repeat with the bad vibe.
I’d learned.
“Just a feeling,” I told him.
“You got it, Ivey,” he told me.
“Thanks, honey,” I whispered.
“Shee-it, bitch, do anything, you whisper to me.”
Brutus was a tough guy, macho man, bodyguard-esque, driver, bouncer but he was also a big softie.
“Later,” I said.
“Later, babe,” he replied.
I flipped my phone shut.
Then I took in a deep breath.
Then I sat down at my dressing table and got down to the annoying twice nightly business of doing my makeup because different colored outfits meant different colored makeup.
And as I did this, I hoped that I didn’t get a message that Gray wanted to come back and see me.
I shouldn’t have worried.
I didn’t get a message.
And during my second number, Gray, Shim and Roan’s table was empty.
Chapter Nineteen
Tragedy
In my high-heeled designer sandals, designer jeans, cute designer top with my big, slouchy, scarily expensive designer purse on my shoulder, I walked out the backdoor of the club.
The black Lincoln Lash owned that Brutus drove, not only me but sometimes Lash or VIP guests, was parked five feet away, lights on, ready to roll.
I moved to it, my heels clicking on asphalt then I heard an unmistakable voice say, “Ivey.”
I stopped dead.
Gray.
Shit.
Shit!
I clenched my teeth, swallowed, got my shit together and turned.
It was lit well back there. There were cameras. Bouncers randomly and often did walk-throughs. Lash didn’t f**k around. The girls parked out there.
That was all good except now.
I could see him well.
And he was no less tall, broad or beautiful.
“Gray,” I replied, tipping my head back as he walked to me and got close.
“Yo! No contact with the talent!” Brutus shouted and I turned my head to look over my shoulder, seeing he was out of the car and moving our way.
“It’s okay, baby, he’s all right. I know him. He’s an old friend.”
Brutus stopped and stared at me. He’d known me the two years he’d been working there. As far as he knew, I f**ked Lash and Lash was my only friend.
His eyes went to Gray then back to me then Gray then me.
Then he jerked his chin up and called, “I’m just in the car, Rue. High sign, you need me. I’ll keep my eye on you.”
“Thanks, honey,” I called back, watched him walk to the car, give us one last look then fold his big body behind the wheel.
I looked back to Gray.
His eyes were on the car then they came to me.
Then he murmured, “Old friend.”
Fathoms of concrete, years of building it and just hearing his voice, miles of it disintegrated.
“Boys’ weekend in Vegas?” I asked.
“Roan’s gettin’ married,” he answered.
“Anyone I know?”
“Don’t know. Probably. Probably not anyone you’d remember.”
I remembered everybody, every second in Mustang, every person I met, every f**king thing.
I didn’t tell him that.
“So stag weekend?” I guessed.
“Yeah,” Gray confirmed.
I fell silent.
How did people do this?
I had one boyfriend, one lover so I didn’t run into them everywhere I went. I didn’t have any experience with this kind of thing.
Well, whatever. I was me and I might be hard but I wasn’t rude.
“Would you like to go somewhere? Get a drink? Brutus will drive us.”
“No, Ivey, I wouldn’t f**kin’ like to go somewhere and get a f**kin’ drink.”
It took everything but I didn’t step back. I didn’t still. I didn’t press my lips together nor did I swallow against a suddenly dry throat.
I didn’t even flinch.
Yep, he was pissed.
“Jesus, f**k, you take your clothes off for money,” he whispered like he couldn’t believe it.
“Gray –”
“Three years ago, only eyes that saw that body were mine. Now thousands of f**kin’ guys have seen it.”
This was true.
“Your point?” I queried on an eyebrow raise.
“My point?” Gray flashed back, his eyes narrowing.
I sighed then asked, “Do we have to do this?”
He stared at me and I felt emotion shifting off him, filling the air, sliding into my nostrils, down my throat, suffocating me then suddenly his hand shot up. Thumb and finger capturing my chin, before I could do anything about it he tipped my head back, leaned in and studied me close.
He got three seconds in before I tore away from his touch.
Then my eyes sliced to him and before I could say anything, he did.
“Hard,” he growled then finished, “as nails.”
“Shit happens,” I hissed, the guard crashing down.
What could I say?
This was Gray and he was standing in front of me three years after he crushed me acting pissed.
“Yeah it does. You let it. You seek it out. Shit definitely f**kin’ happens.”
He was right about that. I let it, Casey and I sought it out. It happened.
And when I finally, finally got shot of it, I went back to the only home I ever had and found that other shit happened and that was worse.
“Christ, I’m standin’ right here lookin’ at you and it’s like I’ve never known you.”
“Are we done here?” I asked tersely.
“We’re done,” Gray answered immediately but neither of us moved. We just stood there, staring at each other.
Finally, Gray ordered, “Walk away, Ivey.”
Then, out of nowhere, in my head I heard his voice order, Say you love me, Ivey.