"I haven't heard or seen Naomi or Emilia. Have you?"
"Not since Tinkers."
"And Hunter? Is he alive?" I ask.
"He's in the jungle. He...he puts red Hibiscuses out for me every night."
A tear falls down my cheek. "That's great. I like Hunter. I wish...I wish I had a sign that Dirk was alive." I no longer can hold it in and break down, covering my hands over my face, sobbing.
Vanessa wraps her arms around her back. "Why do you—"
A group of women walk into the room, and we straighten up.
"I'm so happy for you. Please let Carlos know that if he wants me to sing at your wedding, I would love too. Sorry, I just get so emotional over weddings!"
"Thank you. I will."
We nod to the others and leave.
I turn and hug Vanessa. "I need to get ready to sing. Take care."
"You too." We part and I quickly walk toward my dressing room.
Eduardo catches me before I turn down the final hall. He steps so close to me, I retreat until I'm up against the wall. He follows and presses his body against mine.
"I need to get ready for my performance."
His finger trails down my cheek, then neck, and dips on my cleavage, and his musk once again flares in my nostrils. "Maybe we should get reacquainted first."
My heart beats so hard in my chest, I think it might explode. And I'm in public, so I can't even reach for my razor blade.
"I'll be late for the show. I'm already behind. Later tonight," I say in my most convincing voice to buy some time.
"I don't need a lot of —"
"Eduardo," the man who Penelope is with says. "We need to talk."
"It can wait," he replies and intently stares at me.
"No, it cannot," he sternly says.
Eduardo turns. "Why?"
"There's been developments."
Eduardo leans into my ear. "Tonight, you're mine, and we're going to try some new things."
I quiver inside and try not to show any negative emotion.
"Eduardo, now!"
He steps back, and the two men go off.
I take a few deep breaths and rush off to my dressing room. I survey my surroundings to make sure no one is inside the space then lock it.
For a moment, I rest against the door, my heart still pounding and insides flipping.
Pull it together and get changed. You're due to be on stage in a few minutes, and you can't be late, or there will be consequences.
The rack only has one outfit on it. It's a bodysuit with glitter all over it and nude pieces only covering my privates. I put it on and slip into the gold stilettos then sit down at the vanity. I focus on my reflection and wonder how I'm going to protect myself tonight.
Then I look down and freeze.
I don't even attempt to stop or wipe the tears that fall away.
A gold rattlesnake chain lies on the wood. The box of cocaine, generally in the middle of my vanity for every show, is pushed off to the side. The metal cylinder is on top of it.
I pick the pendant up and grasp it, then look around the room again, but no one is here.
But it's his. Without a doubt, it's Dirk's.
He's here.
Is he still here?
Where is he?
There's a loud knock on my door, and Mateo barks, "Zoe, get your ass on stage."
"I'll be out in a minute." I put Dirk's necklace on and clean up my face.
When I open the door, Mateo roughly grabs my shoulder.
"Get your hands off me," I cry out.
"You're going to be late."
"But I'm not!" I shrug out of his grasp and take my position behind the curtain but then turn to the band. "Start off with Country Boy."
The lights fade, and music starts, and I grasp Dirk's pendent. I assume he's here, but I don't know for sure. Either way, I sing with everything I have. I sing for him.
When I finish the song, I announce that it's Jorge Cano's birthday and ask the crowd to join me and sing Happy Birthday.
As required, I approach him. Jorge sits between the U.S. President and U.K. Prime Minister, and the look in his eyes is one I've seen before. It's an expression all the Global Leaders have mastered.
He thinks he's going to have me.
But it isn't just him. The same expression resides on the U.S. President and U.K. Prime Minister and fear courses through me. I have to focus hard on continuing the song.
Jorge reaches out, grabs me, and throws me over his shoulder, slapping my