Page 72 of Broken Dreams

“You’re going to do great,” Duncan rumbles. They both begin to purr, helping my brain fill with dopamine in an attempt to fight off the building panic attack. “Borrowing trouble is the thief of joy, Linus. Meet her first before you worry that you’re not good enough.”

Quinn yanks out her pad of paper from the pocket in front of her seat and writes,You’re a great dancer. I know she’ll take us both.

“Ha! Baby, you know you’re the one who makes me look good,” I say with a snort. This is helping. The banter, the reminder that I’m getting ahead of myself.

Anxiety was something I used to deal with a lot in college. It’s as if being at the club with the same schedule, despite having so much information kept from us, cured most of it. I was also always with Quinn, and we both watched out for each other. It’s a brave new world now, and everything is a surprise these days.

It’s so weird how this is the corkscrew that is throwing me today, of all things.

Quinn shakes her head, her hair up in space buns that will soon be shorter and bright pink.

Don’t sell yourself short!

“Can we watch you dance one day?” Duncan asks suddenly.

While they moved the furniture out of the way, they didn’t stay to watch while we danced this morning. They’re still drawing boundaries for us where they aren’t needed. While it’s sweet, I don’t know how to ask them to stop.

I suppose it would also help if I knew why they’re doing this.

“Tomorrow?” I ask, willing the chaos in my mind to stop. Maybe if I make a plan for something after this interview, it’ll help.

It’s more difficult to dramatically imagine myself passing out and dying if I want to live to the next moment. Don’t ask why that helps, it’s my brain not yours.

“Yeah, I can’t say I have any plans,” Callum teases me.

The conversation continues right up until we pull into the club parking lot, that’s currently empty outside of a few cars, and we all pile out of the SUV to head toward the building. A tall alpha with a closely cut beard and green eyes opens the door as we stand before it, his lips curled in a friendly smile. Somehow, I imagine that he must see a lot of people to be able to automatically pull his face into one.

While I’m friendly, I’ve had to be for my job, I haven’t had the chance to find out if I’m naturally like this or if it’s something I’ve simply been trained to be.

“Hey, I believe you’re Cerenity’s interview, right?” he says. At our nod, he ushers us in. “I’m Augustine, the manager and co-owner with her. You’ll probably be seeing a lot of me.”

I keep waiting for him to say “if you get the job”, but those words never come.

“Let me go grab her,” he says. “I meant to earlier, but she’s deep into the process of cleaning her office.”

I immediately think about how certain piles of paperwork would inevitably need to be filed by category and blink. Sometimes I wonder if I’m actually an omega outside of my body chemistry because I don’t act like one, and then something like this happens. I’m sure my instincts will unravel the longer I allow myself to get comfortable being me and not a fuck toy.

It’s been ten years since I’ve had to think about who I am.

Standing in the middle of the club, I look around as Augustine goes to pull Cerenity from whatever chaos she’s organizing. There appears to be two levels to the club, and the cages are hanging above the main floor, which I appreciate. It helps to see what they’ll look like during a busy night. They’re farenough away from anyone that no one can touch us, we can just dance.

Looking longingly at the cages because they mean protection from others and I can also get out of it whenever I want, I feel Quinn next to me as she loops her arm through mine. I’m not claustrophobic and neither is she, so that won’t be an issue either. I’m still getting ahead of myself though.

Turning to look at the bar, I see it’s long and sleek, perfect for serving customers. The walls are black with navy blue crown molding, and the gold chandeliers fit in perfectly with the vibe of the club. It’s definitely not a dive bar, catering to a wide variety of people looking for a fun night out.

“I’m here, I swear,” a woman with brilliant blue hair says as she walks out of a back hallway. There’s a chaotic energy inside of her as she moves closer, her electric blue eyes assessing as she gazes at us. “I didn’t expect to fall into my paperwork and not come up for air.”

I’m caught between wanting to agree and not wanting to say the wrong thing as I nod. Quinn simply gazes at Cerenity as if to assess what she’s about.

“So, before we get started, I want to make sure that you know I take security seriously,” she says. “Someone will walk you through the club when it’s time for you to dance in the cages. This only works if you wait for them. We’ve had cases where the guard was late to escort a dancer, and it resulted in a guest with grabby hands getting his ass handed to him by me.”

Huh.

“While there’s a chance I would still have had to show him the definition of respect at some point with the business end of my bat, the dancer would have been safer if she’d waited,” Cerenity adds.

“Let the club staff worry about timing of when cages go up,” Augustine says. “If you’re running late because of security, theDJ will keep playing and we’ll amend it. Everyone works well on their toes.”

“You’re acting as if this is a done deal,” I say, showing my confusion.

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