Page 25 of After Midnight

“Technically and legally, yes.”

“Well, that’s something, then.” I said sighing heavily.

He agreed it was a good idea to change the locks and unplug the automatic garage doors, to deny her access.

“Two can play at this game,” I said out loud after I’d hung up the phone. If Margarette wanted to play hardball, we’d play hardball. She was pressing all my buttons and now I was mad.

I called a locksmith and had all the locks changed within a couple of hours. It cost extra to have someone do it quickly, but it was worth it. I also did as the attorney instructed and unplugged the garage doors.

I then called a private investigator I’d met while working at the comedy club and asked him to do surveillance on Margarette and the girls. If he suspected my sisters were in danger, he was to call the cops immediately. I might not be able to take care of them myself, but Icouldtake care of them from a distance.

My PI friend also recommended a security firm to keep tabs on the house when I was at work or school. They’d also do drive-bys to ensure that even when I was home, I was safe. Of course, it cost a pretty penny, but the stipend Mr. Langdon had placed in my account before the lawsuit froze everything was enough to cover it, at least for the short-term.

The rest of the week was excruciating. Despite my best efforts to keep a level head, I was in full freak-out mode. I’d never gone this long without even talking to my sisters, never mind the circumstances.

The PI informed me Margarette had taken up residence with a wealthy widower close to downtown Denver, and the girls were being chauffeured to and from school each day. From what he told me, the man was well respected and even had a daughter of his own, who’d only said the best things about him.

Hopefully, that meant whoever the guy was, he wasn’t a threat to my sisters. I didn’t think Margarette would physically harm them but there were other ways she could get back at me.

Regardless, I was terrified of what the girls must be thinking. They had to have thought I’d abandoned them just when I’d promised them I never would. God, I hated Margarette. My evil stepmother really was the personification of a Disney villain.

Each night, I lay in bed with all my worries and concerns floating around in my head. The only comfort I found was thinking about the dream where Prince Dillon swept me off my feet.

I let myself remember how it’d felt to be wrapped securely in his arms as he swung me around the room. My heart swelled recalling the intensity of his gaze. The feelings I had for him in that dream were carefree, joyous, exuberant. Nothing like I’d ever felt. An entire, intangible world away from the real-life responsibilities that had always kept me from doing what I wanted with whomever I wanted.

But then, dreams are wishes your heart makes. I didn’t know if my dreamy Prince Dillon was anything like the real man, for better or worse. But right now, the fantasy of him seemed to be the only thing keeping me sane.

Chapter ten

Dillon

Weeks passed between Hallsworth announcing the purchase by Third County, and him officially turning the business over. Ashton had been good about keeping me updated on Dominic, partly because I kept asking. He informed me that Dominic was doing okay but he and his stepmother were embroiled in a legal battle. Knowing he was going through a difficult time just made it harder to stay away and I ached to speak to him and maybe finally get that kiss.

Dominic had shown up at the club a couple times to help out before Hallsworth handed the keys over, and he’d been friendly but standoffish. My heart dropped every time that happened and if Ashton hadn’t told me about his legal troubles, I’d have thought he didn’t like me.

Saturdays were always our busiest nights at the club. We’d all been summoned to meet the new owners after Saturday night’s performances, and as a result, all our sets were less than stellar. Where adversity seemed to propel most comedians, stress could shut us down fast and hard. Adding the stress of work on top of the anxiety about Dominic meant I was a mess.

After the show, a man and woman, both dressed in suits, stood next to Hallsworth and introduced themselves as the representatives of Third County. Before they launched into their spiel, Ashton leaned over and whispered, “Can you imagine, suits in a comedy club?”

“We’re excited about having you join our group,” the woman said. “My name is Jolie Crouse.” I actually recognized her from a few sketches and stand-up routines from the late nineties. Luckily, Third County had years’ worth of YouTube videos, and I’d been stalking them since Hallsworth announced the sale. Jolie wasn’t agreatcomedian, at least not based on those clips, but at least she’d done some time on the stage.

“This is Joseph Christopherson,” Jolie continued. The man, however, didn’t look familiar at all. He mostly stood silently and let Jolie do the talking.

She didn’t say much, though, other than welcoming us to the team. There were a few minor differences in how they handled comedians compared to Hallsworth, but Jolie assured us the changes would be implemented slowly to give us time to acclimate. When she was done talking, they left.

The consensus of the group was we’d all pretty much been schmoozed. “That was as canned a speech as I’ve ever heard,” Kaitlyn Cross said. “If you got another club you can perform in, I’d say you’d best be making those connections.”

Fear gripped me, although I resisted it. I’d struggled with imposter syndrome since the moment I was given the opportunity to audition for Hallsworth. For months, I’d been convinced he’d somehow known my dads and that’s why he’d let me perform.

It took my dads coming to see the show and Hallsworth’s confused expression as to why I would introduce him to my parents afterward for me to realize they’d never met before. I had earned a spot in the lineup because of my own abilities.

But maybe Hallsworth was naïve or had been feeling generous enough to give me a chance. Maybe I sucked and only thought I was a good comedian because a roomful of half-drunk people laughed at my jokes. Third County was the real deal, though. I was convinced the gig was up and they’d see right through me.

Negative thoughts plagued me over the next intensive weeks. As Kaitlyn Cross and the others predicted, the performers were quickly thinned out and new talent began to fill the gaps. Within a handful of weeks that felt like months, the only original comics left standing were Ashton, Kaitlyn, Feldman, and me. I was certain that if it weren’t for my seven o’clock slot and the consistent laughs I got from the older crowd, I’d have been toast myself.

It was sad losing so many of the regulars, several of whom I’d come to consider work friends, but it couldn’t be denied the new talent had far superior comedic skills.

I wondered more than once if the new owner planned on getting rid of service staff as quickly as they were performers. Could Dominic lose his job? I worried that might impact Dominic’s problems with his stepmother. I also worried about never finding the right time to ask him out again, particularly if he just up and disappeared from working there.

---