CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
*Lace*
With each girl who gets up on stage, my heart pumps harder. Stoney must have suckered DJ Kris into standing in as the host because she is the one in charge of announcing each contestant. My main concern is that apparently whatever form was filled out clearly had interview-style questions. With each announcement, Kris includes a mini-script of the answers. Brodi filled out mine, so I have no idea what to expect.
My eyes drift to the crowd from my cover behind a large speaker system. Every Hell for Leather member has their eyes riveted on the stage. Their committed presence makes me feel a little better, and I consider giving them at least one mark on the pro column to counter all the heart-palpitating cons of being here.
Chaz’s eyebrows are curved in, though, and he lifts a finger to count the contestants one by one. Coming to some sort of conclusion, he leans forward, propping his elbows on the table, hands fisted together at his mouth.
Zane notices the anxious behavior and slugs him on the shoulder, laughing. Chaz gives him an unimpressed side eye.
Vee looks even more nervous than Chaz does. Bright blue eyes piercing the stage, teeth worrying at his lip.
Bae seems to be the most chill right now, probably because he lacks the energy to be anything else. Seeing as he got stabbed in the flank last night and all. At a best guess.
Coty is… distracted. His gaze floats around the deck. I track the directions of his focus and take the same route with my own. It cycles me through a whole lotta cuts. There are a ton of Rolling Stones in the dense crowd. More than usual, it seems. Most Stoners share a similar disposition as Coty. Watchful. Anticipatory. Indignant. Ready.
Stoney is the main cut Coty keeps checking. As for Stoney, he only has eyes for one person. Kal somehow ignores the punitive glare completely. He must be aware, though; that kind of look you tend to feel in your psyche.
Somewhat knowing how Kal works, the cold-shoulder is likely very intentional. After all, I know because I tend to be the recipient of such behavior from him. Kal shows no indication that the sensation of being watched is getting under his skin. This angers Stoney like nothing else. The longer he stares, the redder his golden skin becomes.
Movement from Zane snaps my attention back to him. He leans into Kio and whispers something, face now blanched compared to moments ago. In response to this secret, the nonchalant expression Kio donned darkens, and he darts a seething glower in the direction prompted by a casual head tilt from Zane.
“Thank you, Evie!” Kris croons. The valediction of another contestant garners applause from the crowd. Kio’s attention returns to the stage, but his previously relaxed positioning transforms; he leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands cupped, one on top of the other, fingers brushing lightly against the cuff of his jacket. His sight might be on the contest, but the rest of his senses are everywhere else. The fierce slant of his eyes and preparatory body language belies his concentration on the competition.
Just as I start searching the general direction in which that glower was aimed, Kris makes her next announcement. “Everyone welcome our final contestant of the evening to the stage!” My heart catapults and attention jolts ahead to all the ugly, intimidating spotlights.
With a steadying breath, I ascend and take my first step,wearing the cocktail “dress” strategically put together from borrowed items. I think the outfit is cute, but it is nothing like what the other contestants are wearing. Mine is a thigh-length silken blouse kept unbuttoned to my belly in order to reveal the sexy lace crop top underneath. A leather belt with a big, flashy, buckle keeps everything intact, cinching at my waist. To top it off, I added a beautiful, long necklace that dangles down between my breasts.
I tried to take my hair down from that tie Coty twisted in there, but had one of those awful creases, so I wrapped it back up, loosened the top a little, and pulled out a few strands to frame my face. I decided to forego covering the hickey with makeup. Coty made such an effort, why put it all to waste, right?
As soon as I am visible on the stage, the deep, bassy sound of a largely male fan-club projects from the crowd. A warm fuzziness overcomes me, and my fake smile turns into a real one. My sights hone in on the Hell for Leather table. Seven of the eight members are looking at me, hooting and hollering like damn fools. Well, six out of eight. Kal is too broody to cheer, of course. Though I swear there is a twinkle of approval in his green eyes. Or maybe I just want there to be, so I imagine one instead. I give him a very “extra” wink. Could be a trick of the stage lighting, but I am pretty sure his lips twitch up to the side.
“Introducing Miss Gulf Coast contestant… Lace!”
My smile falters slightly, and I curl my fingers into a loose fist to keep from facepalming my forehead. My attention flicks briefly to the eighth HFL member at the judges’ table. Brodi didn’t put my last name on the form. Nor my real first name, apparently. All the other girls were called by both. But nope, Brodi used my stage name. He is completely clueless, though, grinning like a jackass eating briers. His adorably psychotic innocence is enough to earn immediate forgiveness.
“Lace’s dream job is to perform. To wow people on stage.” Poof. Forgiveness gone. “Looks to me like she’s already doing a damn good job at it. What do you all think?” A fresh round of applause breaks out.
Seeking out a visual handhold, my gaze floats down to the crowd again. Remi and Jess are watching from the same table. Both girls are looking straight at me. Damn, it helps. Jess cups her hands around her mouth and whoops. Remi claps and smiles and gives me a thumbs up. Crow must have introduced them. He and Hayes bracket Remi, Jess is next to Hayes.
“Her dream animal is a sperm whale.” Oh, ho, ho. Brodi just officially made my hit list. I could throttle him — wrap my small hands around his neck and shake that goofy grin right off his face. Of course, since Kris knows me, she eggs the silliness on, adding in a witty, “Whale how ‘bout that!”
Keeping a massive eye roll in check, I wave and smile, avoiding the judges’ panel with everything, because if my eyes so much as catch even a hint of Brodi, an unpleasant scowl will form on my face. I remind myself that this is just another night on stage. With a twist. Can’t make money with a frown, after all.
I stop at the little X that marks where I need to pose before checking the guys’ table again. Coty has since stopped scanning the crowd and is reclined back, hand cupped across his mouth, and a very amused spark in his silver eyes. Coty would have been a far superior candidate to fill out the damn questionnaire. But, hey, at least it gives him something to hold over their heads later.
Zane and Vee just look confused as hell. A very faint tick of laughter bubbles in my chest. These men. Poor Brodi, though; he has no idea the fire he just lit. Chaz is glaring daggers at Brodi. Bae has his eyes aimed upward, and his nostrils flare with an aggressive breath. Vee, Brodi, and Zane know less about me than the others since none of them hail from this area. Clearly, the ones who have known me the longest are not pleased.
Except for Kal, of course. He still has the same, neutral expression. But this time his focus is locked hard on me, gaze trailing from my feet to my face. When our eyes meet, his gaze casually floats over to the DJ booth. His deflection encourages me to do the same. My focus hits Kio just in time to witness his controlled focus slip and strike sideways.
This time, I am quicker to react, eyes flicking that same direction. Right back to where Jess is sitting. I now realize that Gabe is there, too. Unsurprising since he has been pretty hard pressed to let her go anywhere without him. However, the reason I failed to notice him the first time is because the chair he is in is a few feet away, positioned between her and the table beside them. The very one where Stoney and his executive officers are sitting. With a flash of movement, I realize Gabe is wearing a cut. Not just a trendy cut like we tend to see often during Bike Week, but a legit one-percenters cut. One that matches the Stoners he is sitting near.
It took a bit longer for the crowd to calm down after the sperm whale comment, so the final interview question comes delayed. Being a pro on stage, I have no trouble smiling, spinning, and popping a hip out for as long as it takes.
Kris clears her throat and drops the final bomb. “The qualities Lace looks for in a dream guy are…” There is a miniscule pause in her delivery. If the announcer was anyone else, it would have passed my notice, but Kris is always very quick witted and seldom hesitates. “…a membership with Hell for Leather.”
I nearly stumble, vision blurring. As good as I can be at dodging roadblocks and smiling through it all, my smile disappears completely. Announcing that publicly is an incredibly bold move. An antagonizing shot fired at the Rolling Stones. And they used me as the bullet.