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“You’ve needed protecting, too,” I gently remind her. She doesn’t answer. Maybe it’s too much for her. Why didn’t her mother suspect what was going on? Why isn’t her mom looking for her now? The back of my throat aches and I strain to hold my emotions in check. Why isn’t
my
mom looking for
me
?

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I say, hugging her to me, hurting for her.

She gives me an unexpected smile through her tears. “Well, I stabbed the bastard. That felt good.” We both laugh. It’s a relief to laugh. “There he was with the knife sticking out of his chest—well, it was kind of by his shoulder. I was so scared, I just ran out of the house. A friend down the street gave me some clothes and money. She wanted me to call the police. But I was afraid. I thought I’d killed him. So, she drove me to the bus station and I took buses here. Lucky that Colorado has just one state in between here and there.”

“One second,” I say
, walking out of the room to get a glass of water for her. Tink is on the couch when I return and chugs the water down.

“Thanks. So, I got here and had no clue where to go. I hung out in that huge mall until it closed, then I hung out in a grocery store until they thought I was stealing stuff. I went around back and crawled between two dumpsters and tried to go to sleep. It didn’t work so well.” Not knowing what to say, I just put my hand on hers. “The next day I was back in the mall again. This time I got the idea to ask for work, but I hadn’t even grabbed my purse with ID so I couldn’t even work up the courage to fill out an application. I just wandered around and by nighttime I was feeling pretty desperate.” Her story is a little disjointed, but I’m following. I get up to get her more water. She follows me into the kitchen this time and hops up on the countertop. Sh
e really does look like Tinkerbell minus the topknot.

“You really had a rough time.”

“Yeah, but that’s when my luck changed. This guy started talking to me in the food court. Chad. He seemed like a nice guy, so I told him what happened. He said he had a friend I should meet. He’d call him to see what he could do. He went away and came back with the address of a club for eighteen and over. Chad said they’d let me in if I mentioned his name. He said to look for a guy with long, blonde hair. I couldn’t miss him.” Her eyes grow a little out of focus when she remembers this part of her story. I remind myself to breathe.

“That’s when I met Liam. I didn’t see him at first. He was in the corner watching me dance. But then I saw him and…well, I definitely saw him. We talked, he got me a hotel room, paid for it and he’s taken care of everything. He says I can pay him back as soon as I get ahead with this job.” When she talks about Liam, her voice and eyes soften. She also sounds a little breathless, like when a girl’s infatuated with a guy. I don’t take the opportunity to share with her the striking coincidence in meeting Liam. It doesn’t feel right. I’m also really worried. But I keep these feelings to myself.

“Well, I’m glad we’re both in the same apartment complex and that you came here tonight. It’s almost morning. The couch makes into a bed. Why don’t you just sleep here?”

“Thanks, Savannah. You’re a good friend.” She looks
as if she has something more to say, so I wait. “My real name isn’t Rachelle, you know.”

Well
, my real name isn’t Savannah either. Difference is, I don’t know what the hell my real name is
.

“Oh
. Well, you’ll always be Tink to me.” She smiles sleepily at this and the talk turns to the upcoming cast rehearsal as she watches me make up her bed. She gets into bed and my instinct is to tuck her in. Too mom-like. Oh, whatever. And I tuck her in.

In my own room, I can’t sleep because I’m arguing with myself.
So, Tink is underage. I think I am, too. Two underage girls got sent to Liam. Well, if he specializes in fake IDs, that’s not so strange. But most fake IDs are for people who want to be twenty-one, not eighteen. Maybe there are a lot of underage girls who want to be in the shows. That’s far-fetched. It’s probably just a coincidence. I’m being paranoid
. There’s no reassuring me, though. I have a bad feeling in my gut.

Chapter 10

I’m in a foul mood. We’re on break at the full cast rehearsal and Jennifer and Lily are gushing about how they had drinks with the new guy
—Victor Cruz—to anyone who will listen. My eyes feel grainy from lack of sleep. I finally gave up trying at seven thirty and went out to buy coffee. I don’t even like the stuff, but something had to get me through rehearsal. Jennifer is heading my way and I brace myself for another onslaught of details. My coffee cup is nearly empty, fouling my mood even more.

“Did I tell you how long his eyelashes are up close? And he said me and Lily are beautiful.” She says this last with a rapturous look on her face. Her expression sours my stomach more than the acid in my coffee.

“Yes, a few times,” I say, perhaps a bit curtly. She had also gone on and on about how “Vic” had spoken to them in Spanish while holding their hands. It might be my mood, but this sounds a little cheesy to me.

“A bit jealous, perhaps?” Jennifer says sweetly. I have an overwhelming desire to lob something at her. Instead, my fingers grip my coffee cup, crushing it. Coffee runs down my arm. Lily has been casting guilty glances my way all day and she hurries over with some napkins from her bag.

“I hate it when that happens,” she jokes, mopping up my arm. My smile is reluctant, but I can’t stay mad at Lily. She didn’t do anything wrong and I understand how she’s smitten with the guy. I don’t feel so charitable toward Jennifer and give her a dark look. She smiles brightly at me and joins Tink in a group of dancers, chatting loudly about Vic.

A bad mood puts an aggressive edge to my dancing and helps make up for lost sleep. The rehearsals and extra classes have also improved my technique. I feel strong and competent. The feeling lasts until the end of
rehearsal, when the choreographer says the new dancers need to stay and try the numbers with the headdresses.

Tink and I have a
n impossible time gathering our hair to the top of our heads so we can attach hairpieces to them. Each huge headdress of feathers has a rod that fits into a metal cylinder hidden in the hairpiece. When the headdress is slipped into the cylinder on my hairpiece the first time, I feel like I’m going to fall over backward. And I’m just standing still. What’s it going to be like trying to dance?

We try the first number with
headdresses, and it’s ridiculous. We look like we’re trying to balance a stack of books on our heads. At least Tink and I do. The veteran dancers look as smooth and practiced as all the other cast members. I feel discouraged, but determined to look like they do. The headdresses in the other numbers aren’t as bad. The headpiece fits directly onto the head and isn’t as unwieldy. Still, the first few nights in the show are going to feel shaky. My nasty mood is worsening. The only bright spot is that Brynne, the singer, isn’t rehearsing with us yet.

I perk up when Lily suggests shopping for the cast party that’s later
tonight. A new dress will make up for lack of sleep, a lot of worry, and all this rehearsal. We agree to meet at the Treehouse at Crystals in an hour and a half. Gratefully, I return all my headgear to the costume area, collect Tink, and head home to shower.

Three hours later, we’re all sitting
, having sodas and laughing at a story Lily is telling us from her experiences at another show. She’s doing a really funny imitation of her former choreographer and I’m laughing so hard my side hurts. My purchase slips off my lap and I can’t help but peek in the bag to admire it again. The dress is black this time, slinky, with a low-cut back. Tink sneaks a look at hers, too. Her dress is sky blue to match her eyes. I bought it for her because I wanted to do something nice for her. She looks great in it.

Jennifer looks at the time on her phone. “We’d better get back. The party’s in two hours and I want to look perfect.” She does look amazing in her new clothes. The plunging neckline sets off her cleavage so that your eye is immediately drawn there. Can’t imagine who that’s for.

“Yeah, I’m starving and I don’t know if they’ll have onigiri at this thing tonight, so I’m going to pick some up. Anybody want to come?” Lily would be in heaven if she could eat and shop all day long.

“No, I might try to take a nap,” I say, trying not to yawn. The others decline as well. We all head out the tall glass doors of the shopping center, chatting excitedly about what to expect at the party, and pause before heading to our cars. I look up as a car approaches. It’s beautiful and red.
Classic lines. Oh, it’s an Aston Martin Rapide.

Suddenly, I can’t move. There’s a feeling like a plug has been pulled from my body and the blood is draining away. My vision narrows and spots dance on the outside edges. Feeling
as if I might faint, I sit on the ground.

“Savannah, are you OK?” It’s Lily, or Tink. I can’t tell.
My heart’s slamming too hard in my chest and my breathing’s out of control. Arms wrap around me. “My God, you’re pale.” That is Jennifer.

“I’m OK.” But I’m not. The world around me doesn’t seem real and I feel like I’m floating away from my body. “Give me a minute.”

“Put your head between your knees.” Someone pushes my head between my legs. It helps. Slowly my head clears. I feel more myself. Whoever that is. Looks like one of those demons from the past just caught up with me.

“I feel better.” A few minutes later, I’m sitting upright and my heart rate and breathing have returned to normal. “I didn’t get much sleep last night and I guess with all the rehearsals…” I let my words trail off
, hoping they will fill in the blanks with their own explanations. The truth is I saw an Aston Martin and freaked out. But I didn’t feel just fear. I felt the most intense sorrow a person could ever feel. And that scared me more than anything else.

I reassure them I’ll be just fine with a little nap and Tink drives my car to our apartment complex. She keeps apologizing all the way there, saying it’s her fault for keeping me up all night. My jaws grow weary trying to convince her otherwise. I’m grateful to lie down on the bed and give my body over to oblivion for an hour.

When the alarm rings and I drag myself to the mirror to see what reparations need to be made for the party, I’m shocked. The person in the mirror, with her darkly circled, haunted eyes, reminds me of the girl I woke up to in the motel room not so many weeks ago. Pretending the money is mine is foolish of me. Even more stupid is thinking I can make everything right by building a new life. Why so conveniently forget that there are people hunting me? I give myself a hard look in the mirror. Having too much fun?
You should have left this town and stayed on the run
. My face goes whiter at the truth in this reality.

My eyes close and when they open, tears spill down my cheeks. Then my jaws clench.
My cheeks have spots of color against the white.
That’s it. Those are the only tears you’ll cry tonight. You need to keep going. Go have fun.
And with that, I dry my eyes firmly with a tissue and go about the business of getting ready for the party.

Tink and I arrive late because it took me so long to fix my face. We also couldn’t find the party’s location. We finally find it because of the cars lined up from three blocks away. There’s valet parking. The h
ome is enormous. A producer is throwing the party in honor of the new dancers and to mark the show’s third anniversary.

Guests are scattered everywhere: on the lush, perfectly landscaped front lawn
; in the echoing foyer that’s flooded with light from a glittering chandelier; all along the sweeping, marble staircase; in every exquisitely decorated room that’s visible. Floor-to-ceiling windows line the far back wall and I can see crowds of people in the backyard surrounding a pool. Waiters are circulating with hors d’oeuvres and drinks. As soon as we enter the foyer, a dancer from the boys’ line takes my hand, greets Tink, and pulls me along with him. Tink says hi and, instead of following, walks in another direction, head twisting back and forth like she’s looking for someone.

“I wa
s wondering when you’d get here,” the dancer says as he leads me into the kitchen. He has really surprised me. He was introduced to me so quickly at the full cast rehearsal, I don’t even remember his name. He’s really cute, though, with his brown, tousled hair and big, dark eyes. He could be Jennifer’s brother, they look so similar. “Just consider me your personal bartender,” he says, folding a kitchen towel over his arm, affecting a waiter’s pose. “What will you have, miss?” His serious expression makes me laugh. I look around the large kitchen before answering. There must be ten people preparing food and drinks. They ignore us.

“Probably just a
soda because I’m driving.” I’m not that happy about being responsible because if ever a day warranted a drink, this one does.

“I tell you what. I will see to it that you, the cute blond
e, and your car get home safely. Now, what can I get you?” And instantly, my resolve washes away. I hear Liam’s voice in my head telling me not to trust anyone and I tell him to shut up.

“Put some rum in that, will you?”

“Perfect choice, miss.” And he mixes my drink with a pleased look on his face.

“Sorry, remind me of your name.”

“Ian. Ian Marquette.” He hands me a full glass and touches the edge of his to it. “Here’s to you. Welcome to the show, beautiful Savannah Anders.” We both take a drink. I choke and start coughing. Wow, it’s strong. He pounds my bare back until I stop hacking.

“I really like this dress,” he says, eyeing the way the dress is tapered down the back. His hand lingers long after I’ve stopped coughing.

“Let’s go look at the pool.” It’s the first distraction my brain can generate.

We step through the open sliding doors into the warm night air. Ian’s hand is still on my back. A slight breeze kicks up and it slides like a soft cloth over my skin. I pause for a moment and look around. There’s an outdoor living space with plenty of seating, tables, a kitchen, bar, and barbeque. There’s also a waterfall and rock-scaping surrounding a deep azure swimming pool. Groups of people are standing, sitting
, or lounging on every square foot. My eyes slide across this scene, lazily taking it in, and then jerk to a stop on a group of six. It’s Jennifer, Lily, Victor Cruz, and some other people I don’t know. Their laughter fills the night air. Victor’s head is thrown back, teeth white in the night, radiating his usual assurance. He looks over my way and notices me staring. I try to look away, but can’t. He doesn’t look away either. My face is getting hot. Ian notices and pulls me away toward a group of dancers. It takes about half my drink, but I calm down and get into the conversation.

The alcohol affects me and I talk more than usual as I move from group to group. I lose track of Ian. He’s telling a story in an adjacent cluster of people one minute, gone the next. Maybe he’s in the house. My drink gets refilled again and again. When the dizzy feeling hits, I make my way into the house and sit in an alcove near the kitchen. Some deep breaths will help. I’m about to get some water when I hear someone speaking in Spanish. I peak around the corner into the kitchen. Victor has Tink’s hand in both of his.

“Rachelle,
eres una chica muy simpatica y dulce, pero no puedes tener los anos que dices que tienes. Estas corriendo de algo y estas en una situacion que es mas grande que tu
.” Tink has no idea what he is saying, but it all sounds so sexy she looks hypnotized.

I’m horrified, even in my alcohol-blunted, happy mood. I trip backward over my feet
, rushing to get out of the alcove. How does Victor know all these things about Tink? He’s basically said that she’s charming, but underage and running from something. The first empty room I can find is a monolithic study lined with books that could fill a library. I locate the chair that’s farthest from the door and huddle there, trying to recover. My brain tries to make sense of what I heard, fighting against the alcohol that dulls it. Almost immediately, the door opens and closes again. I hear footsteps and someone stops just behind my chair.

“Savannah,
entiendes lo que te digo
?” Victor says this quietly, without any of the phony quality that was in his voice when he spoke to Tink.

“Yes. I speak Spanish.”

“How did you learn it?” He circles around the chair and sits on his heels, at eye level with me.

“It doesn’t matter.” And I have no idea. My surprise was greater than Victor’s is now when I discovered I could understand Spanish TV stations, read Spanish instructions
, and understand people who spoke the language. “I don’t understand why you act like you’re saying something so nice to people when what you’re really doing is analyzing them. And by doing it in a language they don’t understand, it’s like talking behind their backs even though you’re saying it right to them.”

He’s quiet for a minute
and then he opens his mouth. Then he shuts it again. He studies my face for a long time before speaking.

“You’re right. It is like talking behind their backs. I was an ass. Accept my apology?” He gives a smile so sweet my mouth curves up in return. But I’m still worried about how he knows or has guessed so much about Tink. It makes me wonder what he thinks about me.

“I’m not the one to apologize to. It’s Tink, and probably Lily and Jennifer who deserve the apology. You did the same thing with Lily and Jennifer, and I was next, right?” The shame on his face confirms my words.