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Holland

A digital chorus of beeps and dings sweeps through Slap Shotz like a wave as the buzzing of my phone coincides with dozens of others. In the split second before I read the message, I catch the shift in the room. The way conversations die mid-sentence, the collective intake of breath, the sudden tension that crackles through the air like static before a storm.

Anonymous message

Make sure someone sends the hockey ho penicillin in the morning. We all know she’s gonna need at least one dose. Maybe two.

Damn.

Shots fired.

I shouldn’t smile.

I really shouldn’t.

But there’s something darkly satisfying about watching the mighty fall, especially when that fall involves Bridger Sanderson. The same type of texts have been terrorizing him for months now, and no one has been able to trace their source.

Not the tech department.

Not campus security

Not even the chancellor himself.

As far as I’m concerned, Bridger deserves it.

If I didn’t believe in karma before, I certainly do now.

“Oh boy,” my bestie, Willow, mutters from where she’s sitting across from me. “That’s not good.”

“Says who?” I arch a brow, not bothering to hide my amusement.

Willow tips her head in Bridger’s direction. “Probably him.”

Near the bar, I can feel Bridger’s presence like a physical weight. He’s been brooding in the same spot all night, radiating the kind of darkness that makes people give him a wide berth.

Not that I’ve been watching.

Much.

Our eyes meet across the dim space, and that familiar jolt of awareness hits me like a sucker punch. His gray eyes narrow, and I respond with my middle finger, a gesture that feels childish even as I do it.

“Real mature,” Willow says dryly.

“What can I say? I have my moments.”

She flicks a glance at him before refocusing her attention on me. Questions and curiosity swim in her blue depths. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you two?”

I take a long sip of my root beer to buy time.

Not deterred in the least by my silence, she lifts a brow, prodding me for an answer. Only then do I grudgingly say, “Nope.”

“Ahhh. Now we’re finally getting somewhere.” She holds her hand up. “Stop. We’re bordering on information overload. Why must you be so dang chatty? It’s such a personality defect.”

I roll my eyes as a smile trembles around the corners of my lips.

I love Willow to pieces, but she doesn’t need to know the gory details of what happened between Bridger and me. Most of the time, I wish I could scrub them from my memory.

I’m saved from further interrogation when my phone chimes with a work reminder. Thirty minutes until my shift starts at a job my best friend doesn’t even know I have.

“I need to head out,” I say, already gathering my things.

“Already?” Willow frowns. “We’ve only been here for an hour.”

“Yeah.” I tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “You know I can only handle being around these guys in small doses. Unfortunately for you, I’ve reached my quota of hockey players and drama for one night.”

“Want company?” she offers. “We could watch a horror movie like we used to. I’ll let you pick the goriest one, even though we both know I’ll have nightmares for weeks.”

The offer makes my chest ache with nostalgia.

I miss those days.

Now that Willow has a boyfriend, everything has changed.

“Nah, you stay here and celebrate with your man.” I force lightness into my tone that I don’t feel. “This week has been exhausting. I probably wouldn’t make it through the first murder. And that’s my favorite part.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say murder?” Maverick McKinnon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Should someone warn Bridger?”

“Please.” I grab my bag, glad for the excuse to shield my expression. “If I were going to murder Bridger Sanderson, I wouldn’t be foolish enough to incriminate myself by talking about it. And you’d never find the body. No body, no murder. Isn’t that how it works?”

“That’s...” Maverick glances at Willow. “Concerning.”

“Don’t worry,” my bestie says, tipping her face toward him with a softness that brings a small, wistful smile to my lips. “We were talking about movies.”

He brushes his lips across hers, whispering something that makes her giggle, and just like that, they’re in their own little world. I watch them for a moment, torn between genuine happiness for my best friend and a loneliness that cuts bone-deep. Willow deserves this—deserves him —after everything she’s been through. But sometimes I miss when it was just us against the world.

My phone buzzes again.

Twenty-five minutes until my shift starts. Randi’s face flashes through my mind. My boss could make a drill sergeant cry with one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, already backing away.

Willow surfaces from her Maverick-induced haze. “Let me know if you change your mind about that movie.”

“I won’t.” The words come out softer than intended as I turn away to weave through the crowd, dodging familiar faces and wondering, not for the first time, what Willow would say if she knew where I was really going.

Everyone has secrets, but mine feel heavier lately.

“Taking off already?” Garret Akeman materializes in front of me, all cocky grin and practiced charm. “The night’s just getting started.”

“Yeah.” I shift my weight, uncomfortably aware of Bridger’s gaze burning into my back from the bar. “I think we both know Slap Shotz isn’t my scene.”

He glances around with disinterest. “Maybe I’ll come with you. We can chill for a while.”

I shake my head. “Sorry, not tonight.”

“Why not?” His jaw tightens as his eyes sharpen. “You have better plans?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. With my pillow,” I tack on to soften the blow. My gaze strays to the bar, only to find the tall defenseman watching us. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah, sure,” Garret mumbles as I slip past him into the night air, sucking in a deep breath that tastes like freedom. Being around Bridger does this to me. It sets everything inside me spinning until I can barely breathe. Two years later and I still can’t shake him, no matter how hard I try.

My ancient Toyota grumbles to life on the third attempt, and I pat the dashboard like a faithful pet. “Just a little longer, baby. Keep it together.”

The drive to the Envy Room feels like crossing a border between worlds. Here, I’m not Holland Tate, college student just trying to scrape by. I become someone else entirely.

The club’s exterior is understated elegance. It’s nothing like the neon-soaked dives people imagine. Inside, Rocco mans the door in his usual suit and ever-present aviators, gold chains glinting around his neck.

“You’re cutting it close, Tate,” he says with a flash of a smile.

“Yet still technically on time.” I glance toward the bar where Randi sits with her laptop, looking like a CEO who took a wrong turn and ended up running a strip club. Her raised eyebrow speaks volumes.

After she took a chance and gave me this opportunity, she’s the last person I want to disappoint.

Once inside the club, the dim lighting and thumping music are familiar, almost comforting. A few of the girls wave as I head to the dressing room.

Two years ago, I could never have imagined this place and the people in it would feel like family, but that’s exactly what they’ve become. These girls are more like older sisters. They’ve given me the necessary skills to not only survive but thrive in this world.

Along with the one that lies outside these walls.

The dressing room is where I shed one identity before slipping into another. Each piece of Lavender Smoke’s costume feels like armor, from the black, lacy bustier, the barely-there bottoms, and the silky purple wig that turns me into someone else.

Someone who’s untouchable.

Heavy, smoky makeup follows. Since I’ve never been a girl to wear eyeshadow, blush, or lipstick, it took months of practice to perfect. Thankfully, Jade and Megan were patient teachers. The most fascinating part is watching Holland Tate fade with every stroke of the brush, replaced by the persona I’ve grown to love over the past year.

It’s what allows me to step out of my comfort zone and onto the stage three nights a week. Holland Tate wouldn’t be caught dead strutting around and taking off her clothes for a bunch of horny men.

Lavender Smoke, on the other hand, has zero issues with that.

For a price.

One that pays my tuition, rent, and groceries in full every single month.

“Looking good,” Megan says, adjusting her own wig beside me.

My phone buzzes with a message from ColdAsIce17 , and something in my chest loosens. It’s ironic that the person who knows me best is someone I’ve never met.

ColdAsIce17

Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.

A smile tugs at my lips as I type back.

Me

I’m good. Just hustling for a living. How about you?

ColdAsIce17

The usual. Ready to run away from it all yet?

My fingers hover over the keys. With him, I don’t have to pretend.

Me

Every day. But someone’s gotta make sure the bills get paid, right?

The banter is easy, our messages laced with sarcasm, but there’s a warmth that lies beneath the surface that keeps me coming back for more.

“Holland!” Jade’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You’re up in five.”

I shove my phone in my bag, taking one last look in the mirror. Holland Tate stares back at me for a moment before disappearing completely, replaced by someone stronger, someone who doesn’t flinch when the music starts.

Time to give them a show.