Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(11)

I nod for Nikolai to continue, my hands heavy on his muscular shoulders.

“Inhale,” he orders. And I feel the cold metal of the gun. My ribs lift in a deep breath, and before I exhale, a sharp pain stabs my nipple. I stifle a wince, a foreign pressure lingering on the sensitive bud. Throbbing.

He wipes a trail of blood with a nearby towel, and then he retracts his hands from my shirt. I’m not sure if I should roll down my bra, but I do anyway, ignoring the pain that wells. Nikolai lifts me from the chair and sets me on my feet as he stands.

The crowds cheer and drunken girls hop up and down, waving their hands sloppily to be picked next. My mind whirls in five different directions.

“Keep that clean,” he tells me. His gaze already starts to break from mine, to focus on other girls, on more people.

But I hone in on his red glow necklace before we part from each other. I can’t hold it in. I say, “Will your girlfriend be mad?” He just fondled my boob, and if the red glow necklaces mean in a relationship, then she might not be happy with him.

He cocks his head again, strands of hair falling over his forehead. He pushes them back. “Myshka,” he says, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” He watches me inspect his red neon necklace for another second. “Green means taken.”

“And red?” I ask.

“It’s complicated.” It’s complicated. He takes a few steps away from me. “Enjoy your time in Vegas, Thora. I truly hope that you swallow it before it swallows you.”





Act Three



Good luck, honey :) – Mom

I scroll through my texts after I fold up all the fleece blankets from Camila’s couch, which was surprisingly comfortable last night. My left nipple is still sore, but the barbell piercing is perfectly even. Nikolai didn’t miss. Thankfully.

Now I’m rested and ready to go. Auditions. Day one.

Don’t forget to bring your pepper spray in the taxi. – Dad

I smile, glad that they’re being supportive now that I’m here. I click into the last of my texts.

Don’t fall. – Shay

I roll my eyes at that, but I feel my lips pull higher.

Kick ass, sis. – Tanner

My thirteen-year-old brother has been too excited about the prospect of his older sister working in this city. He’s already planning trips here, as if he’s legal to drink. I keep reminding him that he’s eight years and fifty pounds away from enjoying the thrills of Vegas.

He flipped me off.

I’d like to say that I took the mature approach, but I returned the gesture.

I stuff my flannel pajamas into my suitcase and then zip it closed. Camila sluggishly emerges from her bedroom, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm. She yawns and her long kimono flutters as she walks to the refrigerator. “What time is it?” She squints at the microwave clock.

“Almost noon.”

“Damn.” She lets out a breath. “I could have stayed in bed an extra hour.” She yawns again and begins to pour a glass of orange juice. Without the colorful makeup, she still looks beautiful, her bold features popping. “I gotta fix my bedroom clock.” She nods to me. “When’s your audition?”

“In about an hour. The taxi should be here soon.” Her one bedroom apartment isn’t far from the Vegas strip.

“How’s the nipple?” Camila smiles into a sip of orange juice.

There was no way to conceal what happened. John told her the minute we returned to the bar. “Sore.” I’m afraid to take the piercing out, but in my black leotard, it’s barely noticeable. I mean, the barbell pokes at the material, but the dark fabric disguises it enough.

I just hope no one stares at my boobs.

“You chose right,” she says. “Nikolai Kotova isn’t kind when it comes to tattoos. Last week, he inked the words suck it on the inside of a girl’s lip. And then drew a question mark on another’s ass. If he did that to me, I would’ve decked him in his face.”

Yeah, I’ll take the piercing. I try not to think too hard about him groping a girl’s ass either. I’m glad I didn’t see that.

“Oh, and John can’t shut up about you,” Camila adds. “He says you’re one of the stupidest people he’s ever met. Which, from him, is a high compliment.” She laughs and takes another sip of her juice.

I find myself smiling again.

And then a car honks outside.

I inhale deeply, like it may be the last one I take for a while.

This is it.

“Knock ‘em dead,” Camila tells me with the raise of her drink.

With the added boost of confidence, I feel better. More invincible. Shay would tell me that it’s only going to make me fall harder. But I don’t want to believe that today.

I’d rather soar.



*



The gym rests in the back of The Masquerade, behind the globe auditorium where performances for Amour happen twice a night, five days a week. A total of ten grueling shows. It’s a lot of work, my dad said.

But it’s all I want. So it’ll be worth it. I hope.

It takes the taxi driver an extra ten minutes to find the employees only entrance, and when I arrive, a woman in a blue Aerial Ethereal polo introduces herself as Helen, one of the AE artistic directors for Amour.