Beat has said also—but as far as I stand, she’s not threatened my life yet, so that’s saying something.
I follow her to the tent and inside. She waves her hand toward the stage. “You will have your own act.”
My palms sweat, and I rub them down my thighs. “Dancing?”
She nods, her black bob bouncing with the movement. “Yes. I’ll leave it up to you. Different dances would be preferred, but it’s up to you. You get five minutes. You may use any of the props. There’s a pole there, too, if you need it.”
I tilt my head. “You do know that pole fitness is a sport, right? Not just for stripping.”
Delila exhales. “Yes, Dove, and I’m hoping that you use it. Practice some today, and we will have you ready for tomorrow night.” She disappears down one of the aisles. I’d be happy to actually have my own act. I know I’d have to still take part in at least King’s act, too, and the final one, but to have my own gives me a sense of individuality and makes me feel as though I have some sort of purpose here. Something that doesn’t involve The Brothers.
In record time, I run back to the RV to change. I pause when I find shopping bags lined out on my bed. I take a peek inside one and find they’re all filled with new clothes. Shrugging, I slip into some tight Nike shorts and a sports bra, throwing over a Valentino crop jersey. Grabbing some leg warmers, I quickly run my brush through my hair and make my way back to the tent. I don’t want to see any of The Brothers right now, and especially not King. One second he’s kissing me, and then the next, he’s yelling at me, and then he’s telling me he hates me and that I took something from him. There has been no bigger mind fuck than being on the receiving end of Kingston Axton’s attention. I’m not sure I want it.
I order a couple of the boys who are wandering around to bring the pole out to the center stage. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Val is stretching on a beam. Ignoring her, I focus on my practice.
“Val?” I yell, and she turns to face me, her golden hair looking every bit Serena van der Woodson. “Do you care if I put music on?”
Val rolls her eyes. “No, Little Bird, I don’t.”
Tim, I think Delila said his name is, points to my phone. “Hook your phone up to the Bluetooth system, and you’ll have free reign. The Brothers will be practicing in a couple hours, so it’s all yours until then.”
I smile. “Thank you.” Flicking through my playlist, I drop my phone onto the ground after leaving “Mother’s Daughter” by Miley Cyrus playing. I need to warm up and stretch, since I haven’t done much of that for a while. Bending over, I stretch out my hamstrings, before sliding to the ground and spreading my legs wide, leaning forward onto the ground and finishing in a front split. The music is warming me up as much as my stretches are. When I’m ready, I flick through my phone again. I know I want to have a different song for every town. Depending on my mood, I want to express it through my dance. I’ve always been good at channeling my emotions into my limbs. I’m feeling angry and reckless, and somewhat, warped. I push play on “Carousel” by Melanie Martinez and smirk. “So fitting.” When the beat kicks in, I grab ahold of the pole and swing around it. I’m lost for three minutes and fifty seconds. I hit repeat, deciding this will definitely be the song I’m dancing to tonight, and work on my routine.
“We need to talk about her.” Killian’s persistence to talk about Dove is wearing on my patience. He puts on a good front, he’s the best at it, but we all know that she is also wearing on his restraint.
“We don’t.”
“What are you doing, King? Kissing her and rubbing up on her like a dog in heat. Since when was that part of the plan?” Keaton questions, this time, his eyes trained on me. I shuffle off the couch, tearing my shirt off. “I get it. She’s hot as sin, but we knew that. You knew that.”
Flopping back down, I place a smoke in my mouth and light it up. “I’m playing with