Firebird (20 page)

“Hey there.” Firm hands took her arms and propped her up, and a face appeared directly in front of her. “Are you okay?”

She squinted through blurred vision. Was it Kristen’s friend? She thought she remembered him, but she wasn’t sure. “No. I’m not. I need… I need…” She rubbed her face. Her lips weren’t working too well either. Her tongue wouldn’t form words.

“You need to lie down. Would you like to lie down?”

Prosper nodded gratefully. Yes, she needed to lie down. She was so tired, so drunk. Her legs weren’t working. She felt the man lift her up and carry her. So nice. She just needed to rest. He carried her into a room and shut the door. He put her on the bed, and she curled up, relieved and exhausted. There were other people there watching and laughing. They knew she was a lightweight, passing out just a few moments after she arrived…where? Where was she? She couldn’t remember where she was, what she was doing here. She thought maybe she was at the hospital again because someone was taking her clothes off.

No, not a hospital. She was at a party. She saw the face of Kristen’s friend smiling at her, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he kept repeating as he tried to ease her dress up. But it wasn’t okay. She stood and pushed him away, nearly falling down in the process. She pulled the hem of her dress back down, and then she did stumble. Everyone laughed again, and that made her angry. Furious. Hands grabbed at her, but she hit them back and struggled to the door, pulling at the knob. Locked.
Work the lock, Prosper. How does it work? Turn it.

Damn. Try the other way.

She concentrated, forced her fingers to work. She had it now. It was unlocked. She turned the knob, but Kristen’s friend tried again to pull her away. She turned and did the only thing she remembered to do in a situation like this. She brought her knee up with all her strength between his legs.

A groan, curse words, more laughter. Why wouldn’t they help her instead of standing around laughing? She turned back to the door, got it open, and lurched outside. It slammed behind her, locking again. Jesus, as if she’d go back in there. She leaned on the wall. The room was spinning. Good God, she was wasted. She looked up into a familiar face. What the hell was his name?

He was talking to her, but she couldn’t understand him. The music pounded in her ears. He seemed to be asking her questions. He was pointing at her legs, and Prosper looked down. God, where were her shoes and tights? She looked back up at him in confusion. He pushed past her and pounded on the door.

Oh, Blake. Blake was his name. He would get her tights for her. Her shoes, at least. It was way too cold to go barefoot. No way would she be able to put her tights on, though. She was too tired. Someone else would have to help her put her tights on.

Strong arms came around her, cradled her. Jackson was here for her at last. Jackson would help her. She buried her face in his neck and sighed in relief, breathed in the scent of him.

No, not Jackson. Blake.

God, she was fucked-up. She needed to go to bed.

* * *

Jackson got home just before noon. Prosper didn’t greet him; the house was quiet. He’d planned to surprise her, but she wasn’t here to be surprised. Out to lunch with a friend? No, her bag was on the counter. Still asleep? He knew she’d gone to a party the night before. He smiled and headed to the bedroom to wake her.

He pushed open the door. What he saw made his blood turn cold and his voice rise in a roar.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Prosper was asleep in his bed, and Blake was sprawled out beside her on top of the covers. At the sound of Jackson’s voice, he shot up, rubbing his eyes. Prosper jumped too, coming awake with a start. She took one bleary-eyed look at Jackson and ran to the bathroom with a hand pressed to her mouth.

Blake rolled off the other side of the bed, holding his arms out. “This is not what it looks like.”

“It better not fucking be what it looks like, because it looks like you were sleeping with Prosper in my fucking bed!”

“Something happened at the party last night.”

Jackson could hear the sound of Prosper being sick. He yelled at Blake on his way to the bathroom. “What? What happened at the party?”

“Prosper got sick. Someone drugged her. When I found her, she was half-undressed, but I don’t think they actually did anything—”

“You don’t think
who
did anything? What the fuck are you talking about?” He checked on Prosper, who was standing at the sink now, holding her head. God, she looked terrible. He tilted her head back and made her look at him, checking for color and alertness. She was alert but definitely green.

“Are you going to be sick again?”

“If you don’t let me lie back down, then probably yes.”

He wet a washcloth and slapped it on her forehead, then helped her back to the bed, where she curled up under the covers with a groan. He turned to Blake, who was still standing on the other side of the bed, and put his hands on his hips.

“Explain. All of it.”

Blake heaved a big sigh that almost made Jackson lose it. “Look, I don’t exactly know—”

“Explain everything, or I will beat you senseless.”

“Okay. I saw Prosper at the party. She was fine. About fifteen minutes later I saw her again, and she was nearly passed out, half-undressed—”

“Half-undressed? By who?”

“I’m pretty sure it was some guys Kristen invited.”

“Some
guys
?”

“Jackson, just calm down. Nothing happened; I’m sure of it. I checked.”

“You checked?” Jackson felt his blood pounding in his ears. “You checked her?”

“I checked with the guys in the room. She never actually passed out. They didn’t do anything. I think she kicked one of them in the crotch. He was pretty pissed about it. Nothing else happened, okay? I brought her back here, and then I was worried about leaving her alone with the drugs in her system, so I stayed. That’s it, the whole story. I didn’t want her dying in her sleep or something.”

“Why didn’t you take her to the hospital?”

“She said she didn’t want to go.”

“No hospital,” Prosper moaned, not even opening her eyes. “I just want to sleep.”

Jackson knelt beside the bed. “Prosper. Honey.” He stroked her cheek until her eyes cracked open and she focused on him. “What happened to you at the party? Do you remember?”

“Somebody…somebody took my shoes. Kristen’s friend.”

“Just took your shoes? That’s all he did?”

“He took my tights too. I kicked him in the nuts.”

“I told you,” said Blake. “They insisted nothing else happened. I chewed them out, and we left.”

“They insisted, and you just believed them? They drugged her! Did you call the police?”

“No police,” Prosper said in a weak voice from the bed.

Blake sighed. “I didn’t go to the police because—”

Jackson stood and spun on Blake. “Because it was your fucking friends! You didn’t want to get them in trouble! That bitch Kristen—”

“They weren’t my friends! It was some guys Kristen knew.”

“Somebody needs to pay for this!”

“At Prosper’s expense?”

Prosper clutched her head and groaned. Blake lowered his voice.

“You’re angry,” Blake said. “Yeah, I’m angry too. But parading her to the hospital and making her fill out police reports is the last thing she’s going to want to do!”

Jackson scowled at him. “And you just accept this? Dancers drugging other dancers, setting them up to be raped out of spite over a fucking part?”

“You don’t understand, in a small company like this, just how vicious the politics can be.”

“Politics? This isn’t politics; this is sociopathy!”

“Don’t yell at me, Jackson. Yeah, they drugged her. It was shitty and small-minded, and yeah, she almost got seriously hurt. I had no idea, and I sure as hell wasn’t in on it. I just wanted to get her someplace safe. And this is at least partly your fault! It’s your fault everyone hates her. And her health is shit. I can’t even partner her anymore without feeling like I’m going to break her. What the hell have you been doing to her? You’re wearing her down—”

“I haven’t even been in town!” No, he hadn’t been in town. He’d left her alone, left her to defend herself from the selfish narcissists who surrounded her. He pointed at Blake.

“You’re going to tell Lawrence. You’re going to go to him and tell him everything that happened—”

“Jackson—”

“I don’t care if it gets your little bitch girlfriend in trouble—”

“Jackson! Listen. I already did. I already called and told him what went on at the party. He’s going to ask Kristen to leave. She was going to leave anyway.”

Jackson stood and seethed. He wanted to throw in the towel on the whole thing—
Firebird
, the Townsend, all of it. He didn’t want Prosper to set one toe onstage with dancers who would even conceive of such evil plans. He looked over at her pallid face, her thin frame. Blake was right. She looked like death warmed over. Either he was going crazy, or she’d dropped five more pounds in the short time he’d been gone.

He looked back at Blake, mastering his temper. “Okay. I appreciate you getting her home and keeping an eye on her.”

“No problem. And I really didn’t have anything to do with it. I swear. You know I wouldn’t—There’s no way I could have—”

“Yeah, Blake. I know.”

Another moan from Prosper. “I’m thirsty again.”

“I’d better be going,” said Blake. Jackson showed him to the door on his way to get a bottle of water for Prosper. Blake took his arm before he left.

“Look, Jackson. You’ve got to let her go. I know you care about her, man, but you’ve made a world of trouble for her casting her in your ballet. She’s a wreck. She’s not star material; she’s just not. She has what it takes
here
”—he pointed to his feet—“but she doesn’t have it
here
.” He pointed to his head. “You should have left her back in the corps. I’m saying that as Prosper’s friend. And you know what else?” He looked at Jackson with reproach. “You should have kept your dick in your pants.”

“Nice speech,” said Jackson. He listened to Blake’s words, and some part of him knew Blake was right. But another part of him thought that if Blake didn’t stop talking, he’d choke the life out of him with his bare, shaking hands.

“Jackson…” came Prosper’s weak voice from the bedroom.

“See you, Blake,” said Jackson, shutting the door in his face.

Chapter Sixteen

Jackson took the water up to Prosper and propped her in his arms so she could drink it. She was so thin, so unhealthy. Blake was right. Taking her to the hospital, making her press charges against Kristen and her cronies, all of it would have made her suffer, and she’d suffered enough.

She’d suffered enough at his hands. When she fell asleep again and he was sure she wouldn’t fight him, he carried her upstairs to the other room. When she began to stir again, he brought her milk and crackers. She refused the milk, and he offered water. When she refused that too, Jackson knelt beside her and took her chin in his hands.

“You are sick. If you do not at least drink something, we’ll leave for the hospital in five minutes.”

“No. No hospital!”

“Then drink.” He held the milk to her lips, and when he was satisfied she’d had enough for the moment, he put it down on the side table. She seemed a little better. She was more alert, and her skin tone wasn’t so green. He took a deep breath. “Prosper, honey. Tell me what you remember about last night.”

“I don’t really remember anything. It’s hazy. Blake said they drugged me. I guess they wanted to rape me, but I was a little too pissed off for that.”

“Pissed off?”

“That I couldn’t hold my alcohol. I thought I was drunk. I know I kicked one guy in the nuts—”

“Yes, we already went over that. And I’m glad you did. He deserved it.” Jackson sighed. The look on her face killed him. He would have given anything to make it go away.

“They really do hate me.”

“Some of them hate you. Their problem. Not yours. I think it was Kristen’s attempt to send you running. We should go to the police, press charges.”

Prosper was already shaking her head. “No police. I just want—If they hate me that much—”

“No. You’re not quitting. Don’t even think about it. I thought the same thing, but if you do that, they win. No fucking way. No.”

“I’m supposed to go to work tomorrow and face them all?”

“Kristen will be gone. I talked to Lawrence while you were sleeping. Her contract with Townsend has already been terminated. But you’re not quitting. We’re going to turn this around, and we’re going to get you healthy again. Look at you. You look anorexic. Jesus Christ, Prosper.”

She turned away. “I’ve just been too nervous to eat. And too busy. And I’ve missed you.” Her eyes were tearing up. “Jackson, I can’t…I can’t…”

He ran soft fingertips across her cheek, wiped her tears away.

“I can’t survive without you,” she said. “I really don’t think I can.”

He gathered her up and squeezed her. “I know. I know how you feel.”

“When you leave, when you go back to Chicago… God… Jackson… I don’t know what I’m going to do—”

He buried his face in her hair and rocked her. “I’m not leaving you again, Prosper. We’ll figure something out. But I can’t leave you. Do you know why?” He turned her face up to his and looked down at his Firebird. “Listen to me. Do you know why I won’t leave you? Because I love you, you crazy, messed-up girl. I love you so much.”

She sniffled and looked up at him, her wide green eyes hopeful and terrified at once.

“You love me? You really do?”

“How could you doubt it? I’m not letting you go. Not now.” He twisted her hair in his hand, held her head against his chest. She was still shuddery and scared. He was too, for that matter, but at least finally she knew the truth.

“I love you too, Jackson. I’ve wanted to tell you for the longest time. I know that wasn’t the deal.”

He laughed. “The deal? Deals change. And there’s a new deal now. You stay in this room until you’re healthy again. Your body is my instrument. I want you to feed it and care for it. If you won’t do it for you, you’ll do it for me. If you lose one more pound, I’ll beat you black-and-blue. Do you understand me?”