Page 17 of Shining Through

The idea of venturing where she felt so out of place was terrifying. She turned back to her sister and her friend. “But I can’t just walk into a bar by myself and lure him away from the Sex Twins.”

“We’ll come with you,” Samara said. “He has no idea who we are. We’re just women out at a bar. He’s a guy out at a bar. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

“Who knows what might happen,” said Xtina.

Xtina was right. Who knew what might happen? Which, of course, was the problem. These two might be cool with throwing caution to the wind, but Tabitha wasn’t. Not to mention that she was a semi-celebrity with a carefully crafted image to protect. An image that would be destroyed if anyone saw through her disguise.

But there were times she felt like a slave to that image, and to skating. She’d missed so much. College. Friendships. Relationships. And while she’d be free to pursue them after her skating career was over, it was hard not to feel life was passing her by.

She didn’t want to wait until skating was over. She wanted an adventure tonight. And she wanted Daniil Andreev to be part of it.

She studied her reflection again, envisioning herself transformed by Xtina and Samara’s handiwork. Goth eyes and blue hair. Sexy rocker-girl clothes. Just a woman out on a Saturday night. A woman looking for a good time, and a man eager to show her one.

Who knew what might happen, indeed.

As crazy as it sounded, this might even help her skating. She wouldn’t feel so tense, so damn restless. She’d set the Ice Queen aside for a night, have a little fun with figure skating’s bad boy, and then get back to work. With focus where it belonged, there’d be no stopping her. If Peter were here, he’d certainly approve.

She turned back to her sister and Xtina. Her smile grew wider. “Who’s up for a party?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE BAR WAS HOT ANDnoisy, and Tabitha was wishing she’d not come. Her wig itched. Xtina’s sky-high vinyl boots were awkward. And Daniil was across the room with the women from the arena and hadn’t looked her way once.

“Here.” Samara returned with beers and shoved a bottle into Tabitha’s hand. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. She didn’t like beer much, and definitely not this kind which tasted like bitter, malt-flavored water. But at least it was cold. And if any situation demanded a little liquid courage, this one did.

If she got the chance to talk with Daniil, she didn’t know what to say. What if he recognized her voice? If he asked her to dance, what if her wig came off? If he suggested they go find a convenient amplifier, would she make like Blondie in the movie, or retreat behind the Ice Queen?

The potential for humiliation was endless.

The way things were going right now, it might not be a problem. Daniil and his friend Ruslan were surrounded by a flock of females eager to get to know this exotic new species; Russian male figure skaters. There wasn’t a single reason for them to wander over here.

“Your turn,” said Xtina, who’d taken her turn at the pool table.

Tabitha set down her beer and considered the possible shots. Orange striped ball, corner pocket. Easy enough. She balanced the stick on her knuckle and aimed. The stick grazed the white ball, sending it spinning into the pocket instead.

The two guys lingering near the pool table snickered. “Nice shot,” said the taller one, who had a large reddish stain on his white t-shirt.

Why couldn’t it be Daniil Andreev hanging out here rather than these two? Tabitha responded with a bland smile. “Thank you. I meant to do that.”

Yeah, right. She wasn’t any good at pool. Neither were Xtina or Samara. They didn’t even know the rules, so they’d made up their own. Whoever sunk the most balls won. A simple game, but it was taking a while.

She passed the stick to Samara who sank both the yellow and black balls, taking the lead. After a triumphant bow, she passed the stick to Xtina.

“Hey! You can’t do that!” sputtered Stained Shirt. “You sank the eight ball. Game’s over, you lost. Our turn.”

“We’re playing by different rules,” Tabitha said.

“Those aren’t rules! You don’t know any more about pool than you do about music.” He waved his beer in Samara’s direction. “You realize that idiot on your t-shirt OD-ed on purpose?”

Her sister’s smile faded, and she smoothed her hand over the image of Harry K, captioned RIP, and the date of his death, two weeks ago. “Yeah, I know. It was tragic.”

The other guy snorted. “What’s tragic? He fucking sucked and took the coward’s way out. The only thing tragic are people glorifying him with those stupid t-shirts.”

“Fuck off.” Samara’s voice was low and angry, but trembled.

Though Tabitha found her sister’s grief over a musician she’d never met baffling, she didn’t feel it was her place to judge. It definitely wasn’t this guy’s place. “Hey, if you don’t like his music, fine. Don’t buy it. But that doesn’t give you a reason to act like a jerk.”

Suddenly, there was a light touch on her shoulder, and she caught a whiff of the crisp scent of Polo Black. Daniil Andreev’s deep, exotic voice tickled her ear. “If they are being rude, say the word, and I will be happy to teach them manners.”

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