Slave to the Rhythm (6 page)

I decided I’d talk to Gary. But when I opened the door to our room, it was empty. I waited up for him for a while, but then I remembered he had a date with one of the guys in the band.

Frustrated and disgusted with my own cowardice, I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

My last waking thought was that I hadn’t gotten my cell phone back either.

The next morning, Galina and Yveta avoided me at breakfast. Honey raised an eyebrow.

“Lovers quarrel?”

“What?”

She sat down next to me, a bowl of fruit and yogurt in front of her.

“Why are they giving you the cold shoulder?”

I took a sip of coffee.

“How much do you know about this guy Volkov?”

“Oh,” she said, understanding in her expression. “You heard the rumors.”

She knew. They all knew.

“It’s more than that. We saw . . .”

“Look, Ash, I’ve lived in Vegas for a few years now. You hear stuff. It’s best to ignore it. Asking questions isn’t a good idea.”

“That’s what Trixie said.”

“You should listen to her.”

I rubbed my forehead. “But . . . ?”

She rested her hand on my arm and looked at me seriously.

“Ash, asking questions isn’t a good idea.”

Then she stood up and walked away.

Across the room, Yveta glanced at me briefly, then dropped her gaze back to the table.

Elaine worked us relentlessly all day. She’d decided to add another Latin number to the show, and as there were only three of us who were trained in mambo let alone salsa, it was slow going. We were professional dancers, but still, it’s a tricky rhythm to pick up. Salsa is a street dance with no frame, and doesn’t even break on the right count. A lot of ballroom dancers despise salsa, but I’d always liked it.

When you’re learning, teachers say you only dance three of the four steps, but that’s not strictly true. It’s a fluid, loose dance, and you’re constantly in motion.

The hip action is mostly relaxed, subtle, especially for the men, and your weight is placed onto a slightly bent knee. There are no heel leads, unlike in ballroom, so steps are taken first with the ball of the foot in contact with the floor, and then with the heel lowering when the weight is fully transferred.

Armography has to stay natural or it looks contrived and weird. You have to let your arms react naturally to body movement, and held slightly above waist level.

And there are
a lot
of lifts you can use in a showdance salsa. Elaine must have been trying to kill me and Gary, because it felt like she was working us through every lift she knew, and then inventing a few on top.

“Again!” she shouted. “Grace—more hip action.”

Un, dos, tres . . .

The Ricky Martin song pounded out for the hundredth time. Again. And again.

My t-shirt was stuck to my body and Gary’s face was bright red. The girls had sweated through their makeup, even though we all used waterproof cosmetics for that reason. But we’d been at this all day, not just the two hours of a show.

Un, dos, tres . . .

“Smile!” Elaine roared.

We smiled our asses off, and Honey threw me an apologetic look as I braced myself one more time to lift her into a rollerblind drop.

She wrapped herself into my right side and I caught her rising leg with my free arm, spun around twice, clamped my hand around her lower thigh and let her roll down my body, making sure she didn’t hit the floor.

My muscles were straining, and Honey’s skin was slippery with sweat. It had been a near miss the last couple of times.

Then Gary dropped Yveta on her ass and she yelled at him in Russian.

Elaine told Yveta to go ice her backside. Then she turned to look at us, all panting like racehorses. I guess she took pity on us because she frowned and shook her head, dismissing us for the day.

“Good job people,” she said grudgingly.

I couldn’t help smiling—we were on fucking fire, and the audience would be wowed. Yes, we sweated. Yes, we strained. But we smiled through every second. And I fucking loved it.

I high-fived Gary and he slapped the palm of my hand, then winced.

“I don’t know about icing my ass,” Gary whined. “I need to ice my whole body.”

“I’ve done that before,” I sighed, rolling my head to ease my neck muscles.

“Yeah, me too. We can’t get that here, but we can use the masseuses if they’re not booked by guests.”

“Really? That would be amazing.”

“I’ll call down after we’ve showered and then I’ll ask if . . .”

Gary’s words died as he opened the door to our room.

“What the . . . ?”

I stepped into the room behind him, staring at the devastation.

“Oh my God,” Gary whispered, clutching my arm.

All our clothes had been tossed onto the floor, and it looked as though someone had taken a knife to them. But as I looked closer, I realized it wasn’t Gary’s clothes that had been cut to ribbons—just mine. Everything I owned, every single thing had been shredded, even my shoes.

“I’d better call security,” he whispered.

I nodded, robbed of any words I might have said. I started to sift through the rags, searching for anything that they might have left undamaged. But there was nothing. My iPod was gone, my wallet and ID, even my aftershave had been taken. I sat on the bed, numbly wondering why they hadn’t touched Gary’s clothes.

But when security arrived, I had a horrible feeling that I knew the answer.

Sergei walked into the room, shaking his head at the mess.

“Oh dear, who could have done such a terrible thing, I wonder? But still, it’s my lucky day,” he smiled. “I get to see your bedroom.”

He smirked at me while Oleg stood watching, and I had to clench my fists to keep the anger inside.

“We’ll find the person responsible and make them pay, of course,” he said. “I do feel responsible as the head of security. But I’m sure I can make it all better.”

His eyes dropped to my t-shirt, still stuck to my body with sweat, and he licked his lips.

“If you don’t feel safe in this room, better rooms are provided for staff who show their loyalty,” he said, catching my elbow and staring at me.

He trailed a finger along my forearm and squeezed my hand.

Annoyed, I stepped back, crashing my hip against the bed frame.

“I’m not gay,” I said quickly, hoping that I was wrong and that he’d back off.

He smiled like he didn’t believe me. That pissed me off even more. And it reminded me of my father, which was one of the reasons I was here.

“So? Just think about it as making the boss happy,” and he smiled again.

I didn’t want him to know that he’d got me rattled, so I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the way he was staring at my crotch.

“Ah, Aljaž, you really should learn who your friends are.”

“What are you going to do about this?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. “Everything is ruined.”

Sergei shrugged, his eyes glinting.

“Who knows? Choices, choices.”

He paused, his eyes lingering on mine and gave a sarcastic laugh, leaning forward, tapping a finger against his thin lips.

“I can offer you somewhere . . . cozier? A little more luxury? No? Ah well, that’s a pity. I’m sure we’re going to be great friends. Think about it overnight. Let me know when you’ve changed your mind.”

And he left.

Gary wiped a hand over his face, his skin a sickly green color.

“That guy is . . .”

“I know.”

He swallowed and glanced at the door.

“What are you going to do?”

“Can I borrow something to wear? I’ve got some money saved so I can buy . . .” Then I swore. “They took my credit cards. Fuck it—I’ll have to cancel them. Can I borrow your cell?”

Gary nodded and handed me his phone. It took a while to make the calls and while I spoke to the credit card companies, Gary picked up my destroyed clothes and shoved the rags into garbage bags.

It was approaching 2AM by the time we went to bed. Gary wedged a chair against the door. It wouldn’t do much, but it made him feel better.

I don’t think either of us slept.

The next morning he loaned me some workout clothes. At least I had the dance shoes I’d used yesterday. That was something, but I needed to buy a performance pair along with, well, everything.

I planned to go shopping after work with Gary. He said he knew some discount places where I could get what I needed, and he’d loan me the money until I could get my cards replaced.

But when we got to rehearsals, Sergei was waiting for me. With Oleg.

“I just need to borrow him for a few hours,” he smiled at Elaine.

She didn’t look happy about it, but didn’t argue either. I had no choice but to go with him.

He led me through the staff entrance. It creeped me out to have Oleg walking behind me, wondering what he was going to do because he damn well wasn’t there for decoration.

At the kitchen, we halted and Sergei pointed his finger at one of the Asian cooks.

“Him,” he said. “He’s the one who broke into your room.”

The man looked terrified and started babbling in his own language as he backed away. When he turned to run, Oleg grabbed him by his arm and flung him against the wall. And then he punched him. Over and over again he punched him, methodically turning the man’s face into raw meat.

The other cooks fled and I stood there, watching a man being beaten half to death.

I did nothing.

I said nothing.

I couldn’t do anything except stare in horrified silence.

Oleg dropped the man to the floor, like a carcass from a butcher’s shop, then calmly washed his hands.

For the first time in my life, I was seeing more than everyday meanness or stupidity. We all say:
I could kill him for that
, but we don’t mean it literally. For the first time, I was staring at real evil.

Cold fingers of fear clawed their way into my chest as Sergei smiled and heaved a fake sigh.

“Koreans—always the same. Ah well, problem solved. Now, what can we do about your clothes? Although I’d much rather see you naked.”

And he laughed.

Still shocked, my flesh crawled when he laid his hand on my shoulder, slowly stroking down to my stomach.

Appalled, I stepped back abruptly, but Conan was standing behind me and wrapped a thick arm around my neck, cutting off the oxygen with expert speed.

The pressure on my throat increased each second. I fought with my whole body, striking out with legs and arms, but it was like hitting granite.

“That’s not very friendly when I’ve done you a favor,” Sergei commented as I fought for breaths.

He grinned as he grabbed my junk and squeezed hard.

“I’m sure we’ll be friends soon,” he whispered against my ear. “Good friends.”

My vision was turning black.

Then Conan let go, and I dropped to my knees, breath rasping through my crushed windpipe.

Fury and humiliation heated my blood, but fear cooled it again. I wanted to kill the bastard, but I didn’t want to die.
This is a nightmare! Please God, let me wake up.

The mix of extreme emotions was disorienting.

I shook my head, trying to get my vision back and stop my ears from ringing. Slowly, my breathing started to ease, and Conan hauled me to my feet while Sergei smiled and clapped his hands together like a gameshow host.

“Shopping!”

I was still dazed, but seeing his grinning face, I felt a rush of raw anger, raw fucking anger.

I gritted my teeth, trying to remain calm. Dancing was everything to me and I’d lost count of the times I’d danced through the pain. That’s what I had to do right now—dance through the pain.
Survive.

“Oleg will find a shop where we can get what you need. I would pay good money to see you dance—how fortunate I feel that you work for us.” Then he smiled. “Oh dear, you will owe me a lot of money for your new clothes. How on earth will you pay me back?”

His eyes glittered with lust and malice, enjoying the disgust he saw on my face.

I bit the inside of my mouth, tasting blood.

I will get out of here
, I told myself.
I will survive this. And then this evil bastard is going to pay. I swear it.