Page 4 of Last One Standing (Saint Brothers #5)

CHAPTER FOUR

KONA

Each queen did one song, and after their sets were completed, I would perform three numbers.

I was supposedly the main attraction, but Brick would be surprised to learn that the audience loved us all and for some, I wasn’t their favorite.

If I mentioned that to him, he’d vow to track each patron down and make them change their mind.

There was a time I’d found the possessiveness hot.

He’d made me feel wanted, but then it had turned ugly, violent, and cruel.

Now when I saw him being an asshole, I was nauseated.

I’d tried to get him to leave the people in this town alone, their stores, their opinions.

All that had earned me was a day in bed nursing bruises and dizzy spells.

“You’re on in three,” Dazzy, the backstage manager, informed me.

“Thanks, darlin’.”

I took one more look at my reflection in the mirror. My platinum-blond wig was perfectly coiffed; my makeup was precise and dazzling. I ran the palms of my hands along the sides of my silver floor-length dress, sticking my leg out through the slit. My shoes glittered, my nails shone; I was ready.

Some queens lip-synched, and that was totally okay because they owned it every time.

I had on occasion also lip-synched. However, I’d learned my range, figured out what female artists I could match, and molded my brand around them.

I had dabbled with original songs, but Brick and I had gotten into an argument one night about me messing up a good thing at the club with my mediocre songs.

It had ended with him lighting all my notes and music on fire.

I still wrote, but I hid it, and hopefully someday I’d get to sing one of the songs. Until that happened, Cher, Miley Cyrus, and a few other ladies would be my show.

I stood on the mark behind the curtain while Ima was embracing her realness on stage. I breathed to center myself and to make sure I slayed.

I gripped my microphone, which had a button to make my voice turn slightly robotic when I needed it to.

“Are you all ready to gag?” Ima shouted. “Many of you came from all over for this hunty queen!”

The audience cheered so loudly, I felt it in my bones. It lit me up inside and made me vibrate. I lived for this shit.

“Well, get on your feet then, and let her hear you!”

The applause intensified, and it centered me. I was ready.

“Here she is, Anita Pounding!”

The opening notes of Cher’s “Take It Like a Man,” filtered through the speakers. I lifted my microphone to my lips, posed, and let the light shine on me as the curtain opened. Instead of Cher’s voice, it was mine—and within two seconds, I had them all eating out of the palm of my hand.

I’d found that every person who came to this show—well, most of them anyway—wanted the attention of one of the queens. Knowing that, I made sure to always look into their eyes, wink at some, and on occasion plop on a lap or two while I sang.

They ate it up, and though Brick had stated several times that he didn’t like it when anyone touched me, his VP did explain that it was part of the show—if he wanted it to be lucrative, he had to let me perform. It wasn’t as if I were going to fuck someone on stage, after all.

Once the song was done, I beamed. People were standing and cheering, and it took a minute to quiet them down. It never failed to tug at my heart that they loved being entertained by me.

“Well, aren’t all of you just the sweetest?” I narrowed my eyes at a gentleman in the front row. He looked as average as could be. Nothing shifty about him, so it made this even more fun. “Except maybe you.”

He shook his head. I could see his blush from here.

“What’s your name, you little morsel?”

He shouted, “Brian!”

“Okay, Brian, and what do you do for a living?” Someone came over with a microphone and held it to his mouth so the audience could hear.

“I’m an accountant.”

Oh, yeah. He was as average as average got. “What brings you to Stilettos and Sangria tonight, Brian from accounting?”

“I’m a huge fan of this show. I’ve been here once before, and I wanted to take my girlfriend for our anniversary.” He motioned to the woman beside him, who didn’t appear to love the spotlight on her. Too bad.

“And what’s your name, girlfriend of Brian?”

“M…Molly.”

“Aren’t you precious,” I cooed. “Molly, love, tell me what is it you do?”

I expected teacher, maybe nurse, but nope. “I own Under Abreast.” That was a sex shop downtown, and my eyes widened.

“Oh…” The audience laughed. “I did not see that coming…but I bet Molly sees a lot of things coming, don’t you?” I smirked.

She giggled, and I wanted to know more about this relationship, but staying on one person for too long was never good.

“We’ll talk after the show.” I waved my hand and the next song kicked on. “Bad Romance,” by Lady Gaga had everyone out of their seats, and it was as if their cheers shot life into me.

I moved around that stage flawlessly, made eye contact, smiled, simpered, did everything the people craved.

My gaze rarely shot to the upper level because Brick and his guys always sat there but halfway through the song, it was as if something were burning into the side of my face, and I glanced left.

Not to sound clichéd, but my eyes locked with the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

He watched me unblinkingly. His dark skin somehow shone in the shadows, and his full lush lips screamed to be sucked.

I’d bet money that if he stood his body would be a canvas of sin, but it was the way he watched me that had my skin on fire.

Lust . He was practically undressing me with his eyes and if there wasn’t anyone here, I’d probably let him.

I had a hard time pulling my attention from him, but I also didn’t want Brick noticing. Sure, he’d get angry at me for showing even an inkling of want toward anyone else, but I didn’t want Brick to take it out on this guy.

Once the song was done, I picked on a few more patrons, trying very hard not to look to the left, but I also didn’t look to the right, where I knew Brick was.

“To close off this sickening show…and it was the best you’ll ever see, I’m bringing out all the queens.

” I lifted my arms in the air. The curtain opened, and they all filled the stage just as Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the U.S.A.” started.

While some of the girls only lip-synched, the background vocals would run through the speakers.

It was the perfect song to close off the show, and though Brick hated when I drew attention from my performance for the others, I didn’t give a fuck. These girls were fire and deserved the same amount of attention I received.

The house was jumping, singing along, and having the best night of their life. By the time the song concluded, I was out of breath.

We thanked the audience and right before I slipped behind the curtain, I glanced up and to the left one more time. He was still watching me. It was foolish, but I shot him a quick wink and walked off to my dressing room.