Candice was known as a diva, but she was always nice to us dancers. She’d started as a showgirl on the line herself. But she talked terribly to the tailors and makeup artists.

“Be with you in a minute, Ms. Hall,” the woman working on my outfit said.

“That can wait,” Candice said. “This ribbon on my sash is nearly threadbare. I want it replaced before the seven o’clock show.” Then she turned to me. “Hello…”

“Zee,” I said. “Zara Jones.”

“Yes, of course. How are you doing today?”

Loaded question, for sure, but she didn’t know it. “Fine. How are you?”

“Ugh. I’m so sick of these costumes. They may as well be second-hand. Have you ever seen anything so ridiculous?” She nodded to the garment she’d thrown at the seamstress.

What was I supposed to say? My costume was fine. But then, I wasn’t the star of the show, either. Candice was gorgeous—auburn-haired and tall with amazing hazel eyes—and talented to boot. And though I’d never been sexually attracted to women, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed. She had the most gorgeous pair of breasts in the show. More importantly, she was an amazingly talented dancer and singer. She deserved her stardom, and I respected her, especially since she’d worked her way up from the chorus line.

“I need a bottle of Evian, please!” she called to anyone listening.

“I have some water.” I offered her my bottle.

“Thank you, but I only drink Evian.” She smiled. Then her lips curved slightly downward. “Are you all right? You seem a little…distracted.”

“I’m fine.” I forced a smile.

Like I said, Candice was always nice to us, but we knew she really didn’t want to hear our life stories. Not like I’d tell her mine, anyway. No one knew. Except, of course, the Wolfes.

“Ready for you, Miss Hall,” another tailor finally said.

She huffed. “It’s about time. Nice seeing you, Sara.”

“Zara,” I said, “but everyone calls me Zee.”

“Zee. That’s cute!” She waved and was on her way.

Back to my phone. Except I didn’t have any messages or emails. Not overly surprising, since I basically had no friends other than Mo and my other roommates, and we were more friends by circumstance.

Except I’d been hoping…

In the back of my mind…

That I’d have a message from Reid Wolfe.

12

Reid

Nieves ordered the Dover sole Beaujolais, the most expensive item on the menu.

Not surprising. I didn’t really care, as long as she gave me something useful. I feared, though, that the “thing she found” at Rock’s place was his gun, which wasn’t going to help me at all.

Still, it was worth a grand and an order of Dover sole to find out.