She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them with a clearer head. She could easily ask Cherie for a cigarette, but it would mar her clean slate of being smoke free for almost an entire year. Who? Roxanne paced by the window, and wished she hadn’t given up smoking. I can get someone ready, Cherie said, and a tear fell down her cheek. She pulled back the curtain and stared out into the night. Roxanne threw the letter on her desk as she made her way to the window. My business and show are going to suffer because of this, and you want me to be happy for you. I thought you might actually be happy for me.
What am I supposed to do, Roxy? she asked, and looked up with water-filled eyes. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to train someone to replace you in such a small amount of time?Ĭherie put out her cigarette, bent forward, and put her head in her hands. Cherie was putting her in a very tough situation, one that was bad for business, and it pissed her off. The younger woman looked on the verge of tears, but Roxanne didn’t care. And you told me in a letter! Do you realize how childish that it? It was better to mask her hurt with anger. She ran her hands through her hair, fisted them tight against her head, and squeezed. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me now. When she turned to face Cherie, her heart was full of mixed emotions, and she held the letter up in her fingers for the other woman to see. The ill feeling she’d first felt when she’d read the note resurfaced, and she swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat. Roxanne gripped the letter tight in her hand as she removed her jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the corner. She scowled as she pulled open her office door to find Cherie waiting on the small sofa, dressed in her stage clothes, smoking a cigarette. She stood outside the room and pulled the handwritten letter from her jacket pocket so she could read the lines one last time. She took a moment to nod at Lana, the bartender, and then made her way to her dimly lit office.
Inside she undid the buttons of her jacket as she walked through the crowd. Roxanne loosened the scarf around her neck as Harland, her bouncer of more than fifteen years, opened the door so she could enter the warmth of the club. The neon lights of the Aqua Luna sign glowed bright against the dark November sky.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords
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