“Who sells snow globes in July?” I ask aloud.
Luka finally smiles, albeit a weak one. “It was a collector’s item or something.” He’s not even sure what he stole? He inspects my outfit for the first time: the teal dress, the glitzy necklace and my mascara and pink lipstick. His face contorts with remorse, especially as he looks to his brother. “You were on a date?”
“Sort of,” I say, trying not to make him feel worse.
He buries his face in his hands. “Shit…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He’s really lucky that he only has to pay a fine this time. “Why the snow globe?”
“Huh?” he frowns in confusion.
This can’t be an odd question. Right? I mean, everyone would ask this. “Out of everything you could steal, why that?”
“Oh…” He sighs and shrugs, his shoulders tense. “It just seemed harder to steal than the deck of cards.”
I guess he takes things for the thrill and excitement, the adrenaline rush maybe. Which is strange, considering he’s surrounded by death-defying apparatuses. “A television would’ve been hard to pocket,” I ponder. “Way more useful than a snow globe.”
“Hey,” he says with a growing smile. “That snow globe is four-hundred dollars.”
“Totally overpriced.”
He laughs, for real, and Nikolai glances back with a withering glare like he should in-no-way be cracking jokes. This is probably true, but my strong suits aren’t giving punishments. If Tanner was ever in trouble growing up, I baked him cookies.
“You’re a porter for Russian bar, right?” I ask, remembering that he’s in Viva with his sister. I wonder if it’s not all that exciting for him.
“Yeah.” His smile fades. “I was supposed to be in Amour, you know. But they found out that Timo was turning eighteen around the show’s premiere, so they switched us.” He stays quiet for a second.
“Why would they do that?”
“Have you seen Timo?” He raises his brows at me, stuffing his hands in his jeans. “He’s so good at what he does. And he picks up new disciplines in half the time as everyone else.” He shrugs again. “Look, I’m not jealous or anything. He deserves that act in Amour. I’m just, honestly, bored.”
“Do you like any of the other apparatuses?”
He shakes his head. “It takes so fucking long to learn a new one. It sucks.”
I mentally scroll through all the disciplines while we wait. “I wish they brought back the Wheel of Death.” I’ve seen YouTube clips, and it looked like the most terrifying metal structure that only crazies would jump on. But I heard they retired the act from Infini.
“Timo used to do that.”
“Really?” My eyes widen.
“He said it was easy.”
Damn. “He must be really good.”
“No kidding.”
I sigh. “Well, whatever you end up doing, it has to have a hell of a lot better view than this.”
He scans the holding room, where a few guys sit in plastic chairs, handcuffed and waiting to be booked. It also smells like stale cheese in here.
Luka’s gaze lands on Nikolai, and that regret floods his features again. “Don’t break up with him because of me, okay?”
The panic in his tone actually freezes my muscles. I swallow a rock. “I won’t,” I assure him.
He nods a couple times, trying to believe me.
Act Twenty-Four
I have extra practice tonight, so I can’t go :( BUT I’VE SENT THE BEST REPLACEMENT!!!! – Katya
I click into the text as soon as I arrive at our meeting spot in The Masquerade, beside the enormous fountain of Dionysus: god of wine, and loosely, carnivals. I planned to head over to Coco Roma to buy lingerie. Roger keeps pointing out my “excessively over-worn” costume, and spit flew when he yelled this time.
Since the wires have poked out of all three corsets I own (and tried to impale my boobs), I knew it was time anyway. I just haven’t mentally prepared for a new shopping companion.
Please not Dimitri, I keep chanting the phrase, hopping up and down some as I wait. I’d rather spend an hour with Dionysus, the fountain, than share Dimitri’s company. I try to extinguish the nervous jitters, but they flap around incessantly.
“You ready?” That voice emanates from behind me. I spin on my heels, already recognizing the deep tone.
Nikolai has on nice slacks and a gray V-neck that matches his eyes. The nervous flapping never dies.
He’s going lingerie shopping with me.
Nikolai.
I’ve been on a few dates with him by now. Slow. We’ve been going very slow at my request. And the gym has been a pool of tension, both of us probably needing a release. This seems like a bad idea.
You’re going lingerie shopping with Nikolai Kotova.
“No,” I accidentally say.
His brows rise, knowingly. “You’ll be fine.”
I’m so not ready for this.
* * *
I sift through the corsets on a circular rack of mostly burlesque items: feather boas, umbrellas and tons of lingerie. But I’m so distracted. Nikolai towers behind me and massages my constricted shoulders. Honestly, he can’t be real. Although, he did point out my nervousness, so his kindness also came with unleashing my anxieties.
I have no idea why I’m internally running in circles and shrieking in alarm. Maybe because Phantom is a temporary part of my life that I’d like to close off from him.
And because it reminds me of the never-ending night. The one where he untied my corset and my drunken-self slept in his bed. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” I say softly.
“What’d he say you needed?”
“Something sexier, I guess.” Now he’s thinking about me, wearing close to nothing for an audience. I’m thinking about it too. Everyone is thinking about it.
I am a frozen waterfall. With no hope to unthaw.
He easily reaches over me and pulls out two hangers, my heart thumping too hard. “Try these.”
Try these. What are these…oh. Wow. The first is a white one-piece, that laces in the front, no wires, stretchy enough to move in. It’s not overtly sexual, but the low cut will be more than enough. The second is a rouge lace panty-set, also no wires. It’s pretty, actually.
I slowly turn around to face him, clutching the lingerie pieces to my chest. Should I try them on for him? Or invite him in the dressing room? Or just…I lose my thought as his gaze strokes me in one wave.
“When you’re at Phantom,” he says, “you need to be careful.”
“I’m always safe on the hoop—”
“I’m not talking about the hoop. I don’t trust some of the people there, and I honestly hate that you work when I work.” His whole body is a rigid, stiff fortress. If I was tall enough, I would even contemplate giving him the massage, but in my Toms, my head reaches his shoulders.
Little mouse.
Yeah, it fits alright.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him.
His intensity barrels through me. I love it more than he knows and more than I ever realized, his concern only flushing me more.
I add, “Don’t worry about me.” My sweltering body disagrees.
He gives me a look like that’s just not possible. “I’ve worried about you since you first showed up in Vegas and could barely drink a shot.” At The Red Death, when he said the city would swallow me whole.