His top lip curls slightly, his eyes dropping to my lower body. “Undecided.”
“What are you doing in here?” I clench my thighs closed further, in pure paranoia that he can see beneath the dyed water.
He stares at me, dropping all of the dead expressions that he had on his face just seconds earlier. “What’s your name?”
“What?” I exhale, puzzled by his question.
“What’s your name?” He repeats, his expression remaining the same.
“Dove?”
There’s a long stretch of silence before he kicks up from the tub. Everything slows as he passes by me, his smell drowning the sweet scent of my bath.
“I’m confused.”
He pauses right beside me, and I look up at him from my position. He’s studying me, but I can’t understand the method in which he’s learning. “Good. Oh, and Dove, lock your fucking bathroom door.”
Then he disappears, and I sink farther into the warm water, watching as it caves over my skin.
I don’t know if I’m reading too far into things, or if I’m right in the way I feel about Kingston. I don’t know if it’s from my past terrors that are threatening to rise to the surface. You see, when I was a little girl, a shadow chased me. An entity. Instead of stepping out from behind it to feel the sun against my skin, this shadow ruined every expectation I had of seeing the light.
After a long day shopping with Rose on the “advance” Delila gave us and exploring the mall that’s nearest to her mansion, we’ve found ourselves in the tent, stretching out our bodies and warming up. I’ve noticed we’ve had a guard beside us today, guiding us where we are to be without telling us where we need to be. Every now and then, he’ll speak into a little headpiece and then direct us to where we are going next. It works for me because, otherwise, we would both be wandering around aimlessly, but hopefully, it’s not going to be a forever thing.
After Delila said that I wouldn’t have to perform yet and that I’d sit out for a bit, I thought that meant training, too. Judging by the grey sports bra and grey sweats that I’m now wearing, I was clearly wrong.
“You good?” Rose asks, lathering her body with scented coconut oil, one eyebrow quirked.
I lick my lips and brush my long red hair into a high ponytail. “Yes.”
The door slams open behind us, and I turn quickly to see who’s entering. Three girls waltz in, and I don’t even get a chance to inspect any of the others because the blonde ringleader snatches my attention first. Her long, wavy blonde hair hangs to her tiny waist, and her tattoos float up the side of her ribs, up her left breast, and come down her left arm. She has tight, tanned skin and a bitch face that makes you want to either punch it or sit on it.
She stares me up and down. “Ew.”
Punch it.
My eyebrows immediately shoot up, surprised by her obvious hostility. Just as I open my mouth, Rose steps in front of me, her arms pushing me back. “We got a problem, princess?”
I tap Rose’s arm to move her. I can fight my own battles. I don’t need her to do that for me, but blonde one and her minions slide past us and make their way behind the makeshift curtain. From my understanding, Delila has something set up in the back of her mansion. A tent dipped in black with the softest lilac trimmings. No signage on this one. I got the feeling that this was purely for practice or training.
“Hey.” Rose’s hand comes to my chin, tilting my face up to hers. I like Rose’s eyes. They’re gentle, soft. Just like her soul. She has a small heart-shaped face and a petite body to match. Over the past twenty-four hours, I’ve been asking myself how I would have lasted these past couple days if it weren’t for her. “You okay?” Resilience is absolute when you’ve had your life ripped away from you at such a young age, but finding a person who takes some of the tension that the world has given you and slaps on some armor, ready to square up against your enemies, is an irreplaceable friend.
“Yes.” I nod, smiling. “I’m fine.”
“I will beat that bitch straight in the mouth if she becomes an issue, and I don’t give a shit who she is…”
I stretch my neck, letting Rose’s ranting drift into white noise, as I try to focus on the task at hand: getting through tonight alive. And not messing up my steps.
I roll out my shoulders, inhaling and exhaling through each stretch. “What do you think they’ll have us dance?”
Rose shrugs, brushing the wand of her lip gloss over her lips. “Not sure. Anything they give us, I’m sure we can do.”
As if on cue, Delila shoves through the curtain, clapping her hands. Below rock bottom is a place called hell, and I’m pretty sure Delila was the interior decorator. “Come on. Both of you on stage. I want to see a duology first. Freestyle with each other.” She mumbles under her breath, “Let me see what the fuss is about.”
Butterflies quiver in my belly. I’m not really a freestyle dancer. I’m more of a choreograph type of girl, but I find my legs moving and following Rose to the other side of the curtain.
It’s bright. As in, pure daylight. I was expecting a gloomy shade, so I at least didn’t have to see who was sitting out in the crowd. My eyes catch what props I can see from here.
A clear tank. I think I’ve seen that on some Criss Angel TV show.
A gymnastics balance beam.
The trapeze equipment.
Three massive rings connected by long metal bars. I can imagine what that’s for. I’ve seen it before. At least I’ve seen something similar to it, but this one looks different.
A couple large hula hoops.
Four black dirt bikes with a Harley Davidson emblem on them.
“—Dove?” Delila snaps from the front seats. Ringside. “When you’re ready.” I ignore the crowd that’s seated a few rows behind Delila because I know that The Brothers are behind her, and I see another pack to the left, who I’m guessing is the bitch and her pack from earlier. There are other people scattered around who I don’t know yet.
I lick my lips and give a quick, reassuring smile to Rose. Her eyes peer back at me with cocky reassurance, a small wink in passing. As if we’ve done this before, as if we’ve shared the same floor. I instantly feel a little more at ease as the music starts.
It’s not what I expect, and my eyes close as the soft melody of the piano taps through my eardrums. I sway from side to side at the haunting melody, allowing the music to seep into my pores and take the reins of my body. Possess me. The notes continue as I float around the room, my eyes closed. I reach one hand out in an eagle float, and my fingertips touch Rose’s gently. My eyes blaze open onto her as I twirl into her body. The music drops and a light electric guitar starts playing. I pulse my body softly until I’m on my knees in front of her, rolling onto my back and arching off the floor, my hands pressed behind my head, bringing myself up into bridge position. The song changes to “Lovely” By Billie Eilish, and my eyes connect with Kingston from upside down. He keeps me anchored to the spot, his palm covering the bottom of his mouth. I push up from the ground and lose myself in the song, never looking away from Kingston. I don’t know where Rose is, and I can’t find it in myself to care. The music has taken over, and my blood is pulsing to the rhythm. It’s hypnotic and poisonous, but I want to swallow it all and then feed it to King. When the chorus kicks in, I snake my hips while my hands come beneath my shirt; I slowly remove it from above my head, so I’m standing in nothing but a sports bra and my sweatpants. Kingston kicks someone beside him, his eyes remaining on mine. It’s just him and me as the energy we both exude sucks everyone into a dark vortex. It could almost be intimate, if he didn’t want to kill me. Intimacy is just like murder; they both make your heart race and your palms sweat while leaving your thoughts in disarray, but then when you’re done, you’re left with the remnants of someone else’s soul or blood on your hands. When the song comes to a close, he removes his hand, and instead of finding an expression I thought he was giving me, he’s scowling.