Page 79 of Single Daddy Scot
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ELLA
‘What’s your favourite drink?’
The “dressing room” is little more than a white-walled cupboard lit by harsh strobe lighting. A couple of tiny dressers sit against the far wall and fastened above them sit mirrors from Ikea.Probably with names like Jung and Freud. I wonder what tales they’d tell if they could talk.
‘You’re really out of it, aren’t you?’ Farah, my dance teacher, speaks tremulously with supressed laughter.
‘What... sorry?’ As I look up, the chair rocks a little on its uneven legs.
‘I can’t tell if you’re terrified or on an audience high.’
‘Erm, me either.’ I feel sort of sick. Ill. I can’t believe I went through with it, and I can’t believe the audience applause is still ringing in my ears. And then there was that other thing at the end—
‘So do you have one? A favourite drink?’
‘N-no. No really.’
Farah laughs. ‘After a show, my favourite drink is usually the next one. Calms the nerves, you know?’
‘So this is normal?’ I ask. ‘How I feel?’
‘A mixture of terror and delight?’ I nod. ‘Totally. You can go out into the bar if you like? Your fans will treat you like a goddess if that’s your thing.’
‘After just wiggling my arse at them?’ My words are filled with horror—I don’t want anyone to know about tonight. It was just a fear to conquer or a steppingstone to force me to accept myself as a sexual being. If I’d known I was going to have someone like Mac in my life; someone who made me feel such a potent mixture of desire, daring, and need, I truly wouldn’t have bothered. The idea of an audience terrifies me, though, thankfully, their faces were obscured because of the lighting. Mostly. Until the end. When I’d felt a prickle of something at the base of my neck and I’d turned. But it couldn’t have been... the world isn’t as cruel as to send Will, surely?
‘Actually, I think I’ll head home.’ Well, to Jules’ place. Earlier, I had considered going home to Mac, reasoning I might be on some kind of high. I’m pleased I’d dismissed the thought as I really don’t feel all-powerful. Just sort of shell shocked. Like the person who just danced her way through that routine was someone else.
The door opens and another girl tumbles in, boobs swinging free covered by nothing but gold sequined love hearts, her grin taking up most of her face.
‘That was amazing!’
I smile and nod, but really, I can’t return the sentiment as I slip on a pair of yoga pants and begin to gather my things.
Phone in hand, I order my Uber, stepping out of the club’s backdoor to a wall of familiar cologne and a dark suit.
MAC
‘Ella, or should I call you Vivienne?’
It’s almost comical watching her surprise turn to horror, then horror into something I can’t place.
‘M-Mac. What are you doing here?’
She closes the door behind her, but I don’t move. In fact, I step closer, causing her to back up against the metal frame. The reason I’m here in this rank back lane at all is purely thanks to my mates. They’d distracted security long enough so I could find the most probable place Ella would appear. I expect they wouldn’t have taken kindly to me hanging around here like some murderous stalker. Because I get it. I don’t hide my emotions well, and according to Will, I’d looked fucking murderous back inside. That’s Will, myformer mate, the one I’m gonna have to blind at some point considering what he’s seen tonight.
Every time he looks at Ella from now on, I’ll be wondering what he’s thinking. Is he imagining spanking her arse? Watching it jiggle? Getting behind her to fuck it?
Nah. I can’t have that. I’ll have to blind him. Or else return to my type. Laugh it off. Kick her out. Move on to the next shag. Truthfully, I haven’t decided yet. I’m too fucked up to think straight.
‘Tonight’s some coincidence, hey? But what I’m asking myself is why wouldn’t the girl I’m involved with tell me about something as significant as this? She’s in a show, so why keep it quiet? Unless it’s something she’s hiding. Something she’s ashamed of. And if that’s the case, what else is she hiding? What else is she ashamed of? Lying about?’ I keep my questioning tone reasonable as something quite the opposite burns in my veins—the things her stepmother said, things that make no sense but needle anyway. But reasonable is just a sham. ‘Of all the gin joints in this city, I walk into one where you’re flashing your fucking tits!’
‘That’s not what this is. That’s not it at all. This is something I felt I had to do. Something I’ve been planning for a while.’
‘Oh, well,’ I growl, flattening my palms on either side of her head. ‘That makes perfect fuckin’ sense. I can see why you hid it from me.’
‘You don’t understand,’ she says plaintively. Her hand tightens on her sports bag as she pulls it between us to somehow protect her from my anger.Ridiculous.
