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She pales, the compliment not even landing in her hyperfocus on what I said first. “I care,” she cries, clutching her chest. “I fucking care.”
I freeze. All weekend, I’ve been in my own head, torturing myself with thoughts of how Raven is leaving me.
The truth is… her hesitation is not with me, but with herself. She’s young and hungry, the same way I once was, and feels the need to prove herself, something I can understand more than most. Honestly, it’s something I appreciate about her. She doesn’t want an easy way up or a shortcut.
But where does that leave us?
Because this is happening. I can’t let her go. I won’t wait for her to make a name for herself and then come back to me. I’mtoo selfish for that. But she needs to do things her way or she won’t have faith in herself the way I have faith in her.
She looks up at me with wide tear-brimmed eyes. “I care,” she says again in a harsh whisper.
I gather her into my arms, cradling her head against my chest. “I’m sorry. We’ll figure it out. I don’t know what we’re going to do, but we’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sorry too. I was miserable all weekend without you, so I poured everything I had into that report.”
I huff out a humorless laugh. “I haven’t read it yet, but I hear it’s some of the best work Tamara’s seen, other than my own, of course.”
Raven sniffles, looking up at me hopefully. “Really?”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “Really, Miss Hill. Good work.”
CHAPTER 22
RAVEN
“Oh, yes, it’s ladies’ night, and I’m feeling right, oh, yes, it’s ladies’ night!” Ami sings as we get out of our Uber. Up front, the driver, a middle-aged guy with a bald spot, does his best to not roll his eyes as Ami grooves her way toward the door of the club with some sort of bouncing booty move that makes her look like she’s already had too much.
“Sorry,” I tell him as I type in his tip on my phone. “It’s her birthday. Well, kinda.”
“That won’t even be the weirdest thing I see this hour,” the driver says, sounding exhausted even though it’s only nine o’clock on Thursday. I chuckle, and he adds, “You should see what it’s like come prom season. I legitimately keep a squirt gun in the passenger seat next to me just to hose down the horn dogs. I’m not cleaning up bodily fluids.” He shudders, and I can only imagine what he sees on his nightlyrounds. “Have fun, stay safe, and good luck with that one.” He lifts his chin toward Ami, who has paused in the middle of the sidewalk for a shoulder shimmy.
“You too,” I tell him, thinking he needs the luck more than I do. Ami’s ready for a fun evening, but there definitely won’t be body fluids involved. For us, at least. The driver? No telling.
As the driver pulls away, I follow Ami, joining her and Maggie at the club’s door. It’s glossy black, surrounded by hot pink and neon lights, and guarded by a doorman with pumped-up pecs, shoulders, and biceps that strain his extra-large shirt.
“Hey, big man. I know what I want for my birthday,” Ami teases, flirting hard as she boldly looks him up and down. “Are you performing tonight?” I don’t think she’s seriously coming on to the doorman, but she is excited for a bit of wild, silly fun for tonight’s birthday festivities.
He laughs good-naturedly. “Sorry, Miss. I’m strictly security, here to keep the handsy ones away from the goods.” He lifts a brow, already pinning Ami as one of his problems tonight.
She pops out her bottom lip in a melodramatic pout. “Too bad, so sad.”
Maggie and I lock eyes, silently laughing at her theatrics as the doorman checks our IDs and lets us inside.
The Starlight Revue is, technically at least, a stage show, with multiple acts. On the advertising, it’s described as a ‘two-hour dinner show with live entertainment.’ Which could mean just about anything from Broadway musical theater to a magician to a singing revival. Of course, none of those also promise sexy dancing, acrobatics, and nearly nude performers the way this show does.
Truth is, it’s a strip club. A very fancy, polished up one with better lighting, but ultimately, it’s a strip club, right down to the pole in the middle of the central stage, the champagne that is going to be downed like water, and the already bumping, bass-heavy music that I can feel in my chest.
“Wooo!” Ami cheers, holding her arms up. She’s alreadyin rare form tonight. A few other women look our way, all of them smiling and some giving answering wooos of their own.
Oh, God, it’s a wooo girl kinda night.
“This is going to be interesting,” Maggie says as we’re shown to our seats. “Medieval Times meets Magic Mike.”
“I’m sure it’s going to be a very thoughtful and insightful stage show,” I deadpan back and then grin. “How many Tony Awards is it up for again?”
“Depends how many Tonys are in the cast,” Ami replies, grinning. “Thanks for this, you two. I know it’s a little different, but I didn’t want to do the usual dinner and drinks or dancing. This sounded fun and different.”
She’s right. We aren’t party animals by any stretch, but we’ve done our sampling of the dance clubs, karaoke bars, restaurants, and bars around the city. This is something we wouldn’t normally do, and that’s what makes it a perfect birthday month outing. Time to check off boxes and bucket lists.
