Annabel Joseph - Firebird

“Is she here tonight?”

“No,” said Jackson, turning away again. “Work duties. Nutcracker .”

“Oh, Nutcracker .” Courtney rolled her eyes. “Fun. Well, listen,”—she trailed a perfectly manicured finger down over his bicep—“if you’re bored later, after the ball drops, since your dancer isn’t in town…”

He frowned. “Thanks. But I’ll probably take a pass. I’m in love with her.”

He stopped. Where had that come from?

Courtney shrugged, apparently having plumbed the depths of her self-humiliation.

“Good for you. That’s great. Well, in that case, a kiss for New Year’s.” She lunged forward, and he turned his head to catch her pillowy lips on his cheek.

“Okay, happy New Year!” he said. “It was nice to see you again after all these years.”

“Sure, Jackson. And really, if you change your mind after the ball drops…”

“I don’t think I’ll change my mind. I actually think I’m flying back to New York tonight.”

Is that really what he was thinking? He must have been, because he put down his beer and headed home to pack. He was going to fly back to New York early, he decided. Because he was in love with Prosper Ware.

The Townsend party was in full swing by midnight. New Year’s Eve had passed, but the dancers were creating a little New Year’s Day cheer of their own. Kristen hosted it, so Prosper expected to be turned away at the door, but Blake arrived just behind her and swept her in on his arm, pulling her toward the kitchen, which was acting as the bar.

“Glad the Ballcracker is over for the season?” he asked with a genuine smile.

“Yeah.” She looked around and saw the usual mix of expressions directed back at her. Curiosity, jealousy, hate. One or two people smiled at her. Probably drunk already or not Townsend dancers. The place was wall to wall, hot and loud, with pounding music. Kristen’s apartment was large and furnished in bright colors. Some of the dancers were already making out on the huge sofa. She smiled at Blake. “If it wasn’t for you, Kristen wouldn’t have let me in.”

“She asked me the other day to drop you in rehearsals. I think she was only half kidding.”

Prosper tried to laugh, but she couldn’t. It was a horrible thing for someone to say, and knowing Kristen, she’d meant it. He leaned down to speak next to her ear over the din of the music.

“Don’t let them get to you.” He squeezed her elbow. “Get something to drink. Enjoy the party. It’s hard-core Firebird after this, so enjoy your freedom while you can.”

She nodded and waved as another partygoer pulled him away.

She turned and went to the kitchen. Kristen gave her a cold smile and nudged the guy next to her, someone Prosper didn’t recognize. Her boyfriend? He looked shifty and mean. They made a perfect pair. She changed direction and ran into Glenna. They hugged and exchanged some small talk as best they could in the noisy, crowded space. Since she’d moved in with Jackson, Glenna had remained a faithful friend to her, but they didn’t have much to talk about anymore. Prosper thought that pretty soon even Glenna would stop trying to be nice. Depressing. She needed a drink. She pushed back into the kitchen and was surprised to see Kristen shoving a beer in her face.

“Drink up, Prosper. It’s a party, yeah? Happy New Year!” She hugged Prosper, then backed away. “Have you been losing weight? You look great. Jackson’s working you to death, I guess. Wish it was me!” She giggled and clinked her beer with Prosper’s. “Drink, drink! Be merry.”

Interesting. Drunk enough to be friends with her now, she supposed. Prosper took a swallow of the beer. Ugh, it was the bitter kind, but she choked it down anyway and made her way back out into the living room. Dancers were jumping and grooving to the pounding house music. She moved over to the wall and watched while she nursed her drink. No one moved like ballet dancers. The movement and energy was hypnotic. In fact, she started to feel a little hypnotized. Why was she feeling so woozy? She really had lost weight. She was a lightweight. She hadn’t even finished one beer, and she was gone.

No, seriously. She was gone. She clutched at the wall, overcome with dizziness. The faces around her blurred, and the voices grew softer and then louder. She was having trouble even making out who was speaking or where the voices were coming from. She hadn’t drunk that much, had she? God, she felt so tired, and her legs wouldn’t hold her up. She was going to collapse, and everyone was going to laugh at her, all the weird, unrecognizable people moving through the haze around her brain.

“Hey there.” Firm hands took her arms and propped her up, and a face appeared directly in front of her. “Are you okay?”

She squinted through blurred vision. Was it Kristen’s friend? She thought she remembered him, but she wasn’t sure. “No. I’m not. I need… I need…” She rubbed her face. Her lips weren’t working too well either. Her tongue wouldn’t form words.

“You need to lie down. Would you like to lie down?”

Prosper nodded gratefully. Yes, she needed to lie down. She was so tired, so drunk. Her legs weren’t working. She felt the man lift her up and carry her. So nice. She just needed to rest. He carried her into a room and shut the door. He put her on the bed, and she curled up, relieved and exhausted. There were other people there watching and laughing. They knew she was a lightweight, passing out just a few moments after she arrived… where? Where was she? She couldn’t remember where she was, what she was doing here. She thought maybe she was at the hospital again because someone was taking her clothes off.

No, not a hospital. She was at a party. She saw the face of Kristen’s friend smiling at her, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he kept repeating as he tried to ease her dress up. But it wasn’t okay. She stood and pushed him away, nearly falling down in the process. She pulled the hem of her dress back down, and then she did stumble. Everyone laughed again, and that made her angry. Furious. Hands grabbed at her, but she hit them back and struggled to the door, pulling at the knob. Locked. Work the lock, Prosper. How does it work? Turn it.

Damn. Try the other way.

She concentrated, forced her fingers to work. She had it now. It was unlocked. She turned the knob, but Kristen’s friend tried again to pull her away. She turned and did the only thing she remembered to do in a situation like this. She brought her knee up with all her strength between his legs.

A groan, curse words, more laughter. Why wouldn’t they help her instead of standing around laughing? She turned back to the door, got it open, and lurched outside. It slammed behind her, locking again. Jesus, as if she’d go back in there. She leaned on the wall. The room was spinning. Good God, she was wasted. She looked up into a familiar face. What the hell was his name?

He was talking to her, but she couldn’t understand him. The music pounded in her ears. He seemed to be asking her questions. He was pointing at her legs, and Prosper looked down. God, where were her shoes and tights? She looked back up at him in confusion. He pushed past her and pounded on the door.

Oh, Blake. Blake was his name. He would get her tights for her. Her shoes, at least. It was way too cold to go barefoot. No way would she be able to put her tights on, though. She was too tired. Someone else would have to help her put her tights on.

Strong arms came around her, cradled her. Jackson was here for her at last. Jackson would help her. She buried her face in his neck and sighed in relief, breathed in the scent of him.