Page 5 of Guarded Hearts
“We’ve spent all night planning,” Mia said, her face glowing. “It’s not happening soon, obviously—we’ve got the rest of the tour—but when we do it, I was hoping you’d walk me down the aisle?” She gave me a hopeful look. “And do the father-daughter dance with me? Which, you know, ’cause you’re not that much older, would be more like the brother-sister dance, but still…”
My throat tightened. Could I push out the only word I needed? Having her ask was an honor. “Yes.”
“Yay!” She threw her arms around my neck and squealed in my ear. “I have all these fun plans for the dance. I want to do something really great. Are you up for it?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes,” I said again. Worry sprung up at the back of my mind about what she’d throw my way. I couldn’t dance, and Mia didn’t have the time in her schedule to teach me. As long as the wedding was far enough away, I’d be fine.
“I’m so happy for you both,” I said, drawing them both into another hug, remembering a time when I was this happy too.
Chapter Two
Alyssa
Ipressed the phone tighter to my ear and suppressed a sigh. The hard plastic of the toilet seat cover was making my bum numb. The bathroom on the bus was cramped, but it was one of the few places I could have guaranteed privacy when we were on the road.
Bankruptcy.
I listened to the financial woman drone on for a while longer before I decided to interrupt again, even though I already knew the answer. Frustration bubbled over. “But I didn’t rack up the debt on my credit card. My ex-boyfriend did. There should be some way I can make him pay. Or just not pay at all. Or something.”
“You’d need to consult a lawyer.” The financial advisor my sister, Olivia, had suggested sounded sympathetic. “I would imagine you’d have to take him to court.”
Except he’d grabbed the money and run. Or rather, he’d taken a shit load of products he’d purchased from various websites and disappeared. I’d gone to visit my sister for two weeks and come back to an empty house and five digits of credit card debt. I’d been a fool. That was obvious now.
When he’d suggested getting a joint credit card, I’d agreed because the card was a commitment. He was committing to something long-term.Not just the month-to-month rent but a future. What I hadn’t realized was how easily he could make my future a living hell.
During the two years we’d been together, I thought I’d found a winner. Sure, he cheated a few times, but no guy was perfect. I went on tours to dance, and he had needs.
From my experience, with the right motivation, every man struggled to keep his dick in his pants. I proved it again last night with Pasha.
Pasha.
So stoic and strong and just like every other man. Stick a hand down his pants, whisper in his ear, and it was game over. The little head won out over the big one. Every. Single. Time.
“The problem,” I said, rubbing my forehead, “is that he seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth. No trace of him.” Not that I could afford to hire anyone to find him.
“Well,” the woman said, “perhaps hire a private investigator to track him down? I’m no expert on that route, to be honest. Looking at your finances, you’re barely keeping your head above water with the credit card debt pulling you under.”
Mia Malone and this tour were the only reasons I was treading water. We’d gotten along well on herBlind Faithtour, so when I had realized my boyfriend had fucked me and not in the good way, I texted Mia, begging for a job on this tour.
If Mia had to ask Laura, her mother and previous manager, I would have been screwed. Timing was everything, and with Laura gone, Mia had softened to other people’s crises, particularly women being done wrong by men. When Mia reached out in a phone call, and I relayed my sob story—all true—Mia offered me a job with theMending HeartsTour.
Sleeping with Pasha at the club last night had been stupid. Mia’s only sticky requirement in her dancers’ contracts was a nonfraternization clause. Instead of Laura, Mia had hired an HR agency that had done a big introductory meeting with everyone on the tour before we even started. Any fraternization that wasn’t declared in advance and documented was cause for dismissal.
When I signed on the dotted line, I never considered the clause would be a problem. Mia hired mostly women. Who would I want to sleep with?
After a few drinks and a few bets won, I’d been full of an abundance of confidence. I’d taken one bet too many. The one hundred dollars I’d gotten from Amy for getting Pasha behind the curtained area wasn’t worth my job. Sober Alyssa realized that now, but the Alyssa from last night had thought only about his broad shoulders, those strong biceps, and how he made me feel protected when all I’d felt lately was adrift in a financial storm. Also—when you were broke—one hundred dollars was one hundred dollars.
But the look on Mia’s face when she saw me exit the car with Pasha had made my heart race. I could not get fired from the tour. Would Mia really fire me? That risk wasn’t worth great sex.
At the moment, I was barely keeping my head above water. Without my consistent paycheck from Mia, I’d be sunk, homeless, and forced to either move in with my sister and her husband or live on the streets. Neither prospect was appealing.
My sister’s taste in men mirrored mine—horrible. Not that I had much of a home to go back to when the tour finished. An empty house. Perhaps a manageable credit card debt if I was very careful on tour and endless auditions led to me securing my next job. There’d be nothingtucked away for a rainy day or to tide me over. I had to keep working at a high level to pay the bills my asshole ex created.
“Just think about it,” the financial advisor said. “Bankruptcy doesn’t stay on your record forever.”
Bankruptcy was admitting defeat, and I hated to lose. I’d made a bet on my ex-boyfriend, a bad one, and now I was paying the price, literally.
As long as I could keep this job, my head would stay above water. “Okay,” I said. “Yeah, I’ll think about bankruptcy.” As an absolute last resort before I started sleeping on the street.
