This Girl Is On Fire
CHAPTER 3 Play The Game
"Don't play his game. Play yours." ― Rachel Caine, Fall of Night
After The Hole closed and the last of the lingering patrons finally left, Elizabeth looked forward to unwinding with a nightcap with her favorite couple. Malcolm and Phillip were like the big brothers she never had. Like the Odd Couple, Malcolm was Oscar to Phillip's Felix. They were as different as night and day, but their devotion was evident in the simple everyday things they did for one another. Their love was undeniable.
"Baby, you were awesome!" Elizabeth overheard Malcolm tell Phillip as she approached the bar. "The guy looked like he was going to crap his pants!"
"That's only because Jessie and Paul were with me."
Elizabeth was intrigued. If it took both Paul and Jessie, each intimidating enough on his own, this was probably going to be a good story. Then again, there were always good stories to be had at The Hole. Some guy got too friendly with Daisy, or she too friendly with them, or someone passed out in the bathroom or something even racier occurred in the alleyway.
Gratefully, she accepted her gin and tonic from Phillip. "What guy?"
"The Adonis that made you cry in your dressing room last month." Malcolm offered.
Elizabeth covered her surprise quickly. She was positive Darcy would never set foot in this bar again; he clearly had better things to do with his time.
She'd be lying if she didn't admit the music executive's criticisms had done their damage when he told them to her point blank in her dressing room. It'd taken nearly a week of cajoling before she'd regained enough confidence to retake the stage. After working through her insecurities, Elizabeth had felt lighter. So what if Mr. Darcy didn't believe in her? Her friends did and they supported her even crazier creative ideas.
Like tonight. She'd taken a risk with Super Massive. She'd flubbed her performance, but the crowd had been so into it with her, it hadn't really mattered. Max was right. No risk, no reward. Making a mistake on stage occasionally was not going to ruin her unless she let it. It was an important lesson. And now her joyous high from her performance was in danger of being stolen by the odious Mr. Darcy. Again.
"He was here tonight?"
"Oh, it was definitely him. That man is one fine piece of —" Malcolm paused looking quickly at Phillip before he waved the end of his boa. "Well, you know how he looks. You saw him."
Phillip stuck his tongue out and refilled her drink with more gin than tonic before Malcolm continued, "Anyway, Mr. Dark and Handsome Heartbreaker was sitting at the table over in the corner." He pointed with the neck of his beer bottle to the table far from the stage. "Daisy told me that he's been coming here for weeks. Always the same spot. Always alone."
"Weeks? Are you sure?" Elizabeth turned to look at the seat indicated as if she would catch the ghost of Mr. Darcy still sitting there. She could not quite believe it.
"Oh, yes!" Phillip said wiping the mahogany bar to a shine. "I've personally taken his money many times, but I didn't realize he was thatguy until Malcolm pointed him out tonight. You don't have to worry about him coming back." Phillip put his arm around her shoulders. "He'll either take my hint and stay away, or I'll drop his stalker ass."
"Or rather, Jessie and Paul will." She teased knowing her friend's proclivity for violence was all a ruse. Phillip couldn't stomach killing a spider and used humane traps for the mice that snuck into the bar's storage rooms occasionally during the winter months. There was no way he was going to start his pugilistic career with William Darcy. "Did he say why he was here?"
"He told Daisy he came for the drinks." Malcolm pursed his thin lips together, leaning on the bar. "But, please? Who'd come all the way here for this watered down swill? Methinks something of the feminine persuasion has him keep coming back."
Phillip threw his bar rag over his shoulder, his expression somber, even with Malcolm's joking. "Every time it's the same. He arrives shortly before you go on, then leaves as soon as your set is finished. I noticed that myself last week and was going to point him out to you. To be sure, after finding out who he was, I watched him tonight. He spent most of his time texting on his cell phone, but as soon as you go on, his attention is only on the stage."
"That's odd." She shook her head. "Trust me he couldn't possibly be here to see me. This is the guy who thinks I'm too old, too fat and not talented enough to interest him." Still, there had to be an explanation for his continued patronage.
"Sugar, you must got something he wants." Malcolm swiveled his hips suggestively, swinging his purple boa that matched his lilac eye shadow perfectly. "Because he couldn't take those baby blues of his off of you tonight."
"Maybe he just didn't know what he wanted until he thought about it some," Phillip offered shrugging, drying his hand on the rag on his shoulder. At her puzzled look, he added, "Take it from me, men sometimes can be like that. It takes a minute for their brain to catch up with the rest of them."
Malcolm deposited his empty beer bottle in the recycling bin under the bar. "Phillip could be right. After telling his sister all the reasons why he shouldn't offer you a demo, he did come back a second time and made you an offer anyway."
"I bet Georgiana wouldn't let him have any peace until he told her he did. She seems like the determined sort." Elizabeth selected a few peanuts out of the bowl in front of her before tossing them expertly into her mouth. "Though, I can't explain why he keeps coming back by himself." She considered that she might be wrong, but then remembered the disinterest in his eyes during his last visit after he had looked her over long and hard in her dressing room. She wiped the salt from her hands on a napkin. "No. If there is a man alive who is immune to what I'm offering, it's definitely William Darcy."
"Speaking of men and what you're offering, Max seems quite smitten with you." Phillip added wiping the bar down again.
Max was a great guy, cute in a dirty-blonde sort of way, and an extremely talented musician, but there had been literally no umph in the good night kiss they'd shared after their only real date nearly a month ago. After Peter and then losing Jane, could she have lost the one part of her that could permit herself to love another? She'd begun to fear that she was broken deep down in some unfixable, fundamental way.
When Elizabeth did not respond, Phillip added, concerned, "I hope you let Max down easy. I don't want any problems and I'd hate to replace him. You don't know how hard it is to find a good bassist who will work with Ricky. We lucked out after Milton pulled his disappearing act."
She nodded. They'd only gone a few days without a bassist after their last one just up and quit without notice, but it was a difficult time for all the performers.
Elizabeth didn't think there was going to be any problems with Max. He seemed to have accepted the fact she didn't want to date him without any animosity or any expectation. After all, he was still giving her free bass lessons in exchange for dinner at her place one night a week. To the casual observer, it probably looked as if they were dating, but to her profound relief, Max hadn't expressed any interest in recreating their one unremarkable lip lock. Their friendship had remained boringly platonic.
"We just want you happy, baby!" Malcolm placed a comforting hand on hers.
"I am happy, Mom!" She smiled up at him, before becoming serious. "I think I'm just not ready to put myself out there. I'm just focused on my music right now."
"Good! That's exactly what I want to hear. I need you to put yourself out there and bring some new songs with you." Phillip, ever the business man, reminded her. "The Black Checkers' last night is tomorrow." Elizabeth frowned. Her favorite group was going back to Atlanta. They had friends there that were going to get them in front of some important producers. "I'm going to need at least two more songs from you in order to fill their slot."
It took her a minute to realize what he had just said. "Fill their slot? As the closer? Me?" This news might not have excited other singers, but it was the first real professional accomplishment in her otherwise fledgling musical career. Elizabeth could barely contain her happiness or her gratitude.
"You've earned it, Lizzy." Phillip told her grinning. "Besides, I think I'd be lynched by your adoring fans if I don't give you the headliner spot. They practically rioted tonight when you left the stage after that encore."
Shaking her head with modesty, she could not believe it! She was going to be the headliner at The Hole. Elizabeth Bennet! Her. Mentally running through some of her original songs that she hadn't performed yet, she tried to decide which would be perfect for her first set. "I'll see what I can whip up for next week. I don't want to disappoint you."
"You could stand in the middle of the stage and not sing a note. You'd never disappoint." Malcolm said, taking her empty glass and washing it in the sink. "I'll even let you sing Red Light Special again if you want."
There had been some trouble the last time she performed it. One of the regulars who sat in front had crawled up on the stage and had wrapped himself around her legs and refused to let go. Reacting quickly, Max had to nearly break his bass over the guys head before he would release her. After he had been peeled off her admirer, Jessie and Paul had gently escorted the man to the exit. She was still a little freaked out by it. "I think I'll pass on that song."
As she stepped through the door to leave, Elizabeth heard the ever security conscious Phillip double check the locks behind her as she prepared to walk the two blocks to the subway. It was a perfect September night— clear, dark and just cold enough to wear her light bomber jacket. Always partial to evenings, she really enjoyed the feel of them in New York. Even now, the sighs and hums of the slumbering city made it seem as if someone had simply turned down the volume. The constant energy, NYC's vibe, was something that she absolutely loved.
She was going to be a headliner! Her name would be on the banner!
Elizabeth couldn't help herself, right there in the deserted street, she did a little dance of celebration. It was not flash dance, but oh, what a feeling! She squealed and hugged herself. This was one of the best nights of her life. Then, she looked heavenward and sent a silent prayer to her guardian angel. Jane. None of this would have been possible without her sister. Tears threatened for a moment before she collected herself, smiling at how happy her sister would have been for her. She took a step in the direction of her subway station when she heard her name called.
"Elizabeth."
She looked back expecting to see Malcolm or Phillip, but instead, William Darcy, like an unwanted specter, rose out of his low slung sports car. Even knowing he had been back to the bar since that night in her dressing room did not really prepare her for his presence now. Or, its arresting effect on her.
Malcolm was not wrong. Darcy was fine. In fact, he looked even more devastatingly male than she remembered. He was not dressed for business, she realized taking in his casual outfit. The cream sweater stretched over his imposing chest was a splotch of color under the dim streetlights above them. The jeans he wore were designer and clearly defined his long legs and slim waist. He stopped a few steps in front of her, as if he were sizing her up, as if she were his opponent. There was a ghost of an amused smile on his lips and she wondered briefly if he witnessed her little celebratory dance. However unlikely, she hoped not.
"You aren't seriously considering walking home by yourself at this time of night."
She glanced around. There wasn't a soul in either direction. "It does appear that I am."
"Do you know how dangerous it is for a woman to be out by herself?" He turned back to his car, keys in hand. "Get in. Let me give you a lift."
"You're very kind, Mr. Darcy, but I don't accept rides from people I don't know."
He looked almost hurt by her refusal. "Well, if you won't let me give you a ride, at least let me put you in a cab."
As inviting as it sounded, she wasn't willing to splurge on such an extravagance. Even with her promotion, she still had rent to pay. Elizabeth thanked him for his concern and started on her way again.
His voice followed her down the street. "Since we last spoke, I've been doing some thinking." She stopped, curious in spite of herself. "I'll record an album with you under the Darcy Records label. No demo required. I'm even prepared to give you a ten thousand dollar advance against your portion of sales."
Ten thousand dollars? She had to be dreaming. "Against my portion of sales?"
"Generally, forty percent after expenses. It's the industry standard. Darcy Records will take sixty percent, since I am assuming all of the upfront risk. But these tedious aspects of our arrangement will be hammered out by the attorneys. I want - " He hesitated and wiped at his mouth before telling her, "I want our focus to be on the music we'll make together."
"Music we make together?" She repeated in disbelief, skeptical. "You really want to sign me to your label? This isn't some sort of joke?"
"You don't know me well enough yet, but I don't ever joke about my business, Elizabeth." He tucked his hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans looking strangely vulnerable.
"And, what about your reservations?"
He met her gaze and held it. "While it's true you don't have the polish of a professional performer yet, I can't deny that you have something. . . a rare gift. I would like the opportunity to help you refine it."
"Really?" Darcy thought she had a gift. A rare gift. She didn't know if it was the gin, the after effects of her promotion or the unexpected compliment that was responsible for the sudden giddiness she felt. She felt somewhat smug. Well, well.
"Yes." He straightened, becoming more himself before her eyes. "However, as we've previously discussed, you also have a weight issue." He used his hands to indicate her figure. "Your clothes, your makeup, even the way you wear your hair —they're all wrong. You'll need help in order for you to be successful at the next level. We'll need a personal stylist."
There it was! Her smugness withered. The rude, high and mighty, William Darcy she had become acquainted with had returned. She laughed at him. "So, in addition to my other deficits, now I can't dress myself ?"
Darcy seemed relieved she understood. "I will pick the stylist you use to fix your issues."
"Fix my issues?" Oh, the nerve of the man! Since they were being frank with one another, she informed him. "As you have pointed out, I'm not exactly a young thang. I'm not in dire need of assistance in finding myself. I know very well who I am and what I want." His eyes narrowed on her irritating her further. "We haven't suddenly found ourselves in Pygmalion, Mr. Darcy. I'm not a puppet. I'm a woman. I'm not changing everything about myself to please someone else." No, those days were far behind her.
On any other man, Elizabeth would have thought the look that flittered quickly over his face was respect. It evaporated quickly as he crossed his arms over his broad chest while he considered her. "One thing that definitely doesn't need to change is your spirit."
"Oh, joy! I'm so relieved there is something about me you actually do like." She heard him laugh before she spun on her heel. She had enough of this man and she was late for her train. When she heard the chirp of his car alarm and then his footsteps as he followed her, she wasn't entirely surprised. She imagined it wasn't an everyday occurrence when Mr. Darcy didn't get something he wanted.
As she arrived at the subways station, her ride home was just pulling away from the platform. Elizabeth groaned. When he joined her, she rolled her eyes. All she wanted was to become intimately acquainted with the box of Hostess Twinkies she had bought on impulse at the store earlier that day. Darcy looked unconcerned, as if he didn't care one smidge about her discomfort or the fact she was basically trapped against her will into waiting with him. He leaned nonchalantly against a wall covered in graffiti. She felt him watching her even though she was putting on a show of ignoring him. "You must realize that if your vanity hadn't been hurt at the café that first night, we wouldn't even be having this disagreement about you signing with me now. We both know then that you would have jumped at the chance."
The truth of it galled her. If he'd offered this very thing on that night before she had heard his awful comments, she might have signed his infernal contract in her own blood. Her silence had continued for too long.
"I thought so."
Arrogance was stamped on his proud face, and she fought the overwhelming urge to sock in him in his perfectly chiseled nose. Did he always have to be right? Was he one of those men? Elizabeth suspected strongly he was cut from the same cloth as Peter. He had always had to be right, too, which left the being wrong mostly to her. With a disgusted sigh, she looked back into the dark tunnel, willing the next train to hurry along.
Darcy would not be quiet. "Georgie was right. If you let us, we can move past our poor beginning. I'm more than willing to do so."
She could not believe his audacity and glared at him incredulously. He had insulted her each and every time they met and he was now implying that it was her inability to forgive him for doing so that was standing in the way of progress between them.
Elizabeth struggled to remain polite. "I'm flattered by your offer. Truly. But I'm afraid my answer is still no."
The next train arrived with a shriek, answering her silent prayer. She hurried forward but was prevented entry as she had to wait as several people exited. "Ms. Bennet!" She turned to face him surprised to see he no longer wore his cocky self-assured expression. "You drive a hard bargain. I'll advance you twenty-five thousand dollars."
He didn't understand it wasn't about the money. He could have been offering her a million dollars, and she was just too tired to listen to him anymore. She was not going to miss this train and be forced to stand on this platform resisting him, as exhausted as she was.
"Accept my offer, Elizabeth. Don't be a fool and throw this opportunity away." She took another step toward her destination. "At least, hear what I am offering further." Another step. Something changed in his voice. "Please, Elizabeth."
Shaking her head again, she was about to go through the open doors to the train.
Only she couldn't.
It felt as if she had walked into a pool of invisible quicksand that held her stock still. Her legs refused to move. And as clearly as she had heard him moments earlier, she heard a female whisper in her ear, "Have you gone crazy? You can't walk away from this man, Lizzy."
So surprised at hearing Jane's voice, a voice missing from her life for so long, she looked in both directions on the platform before turning back to the train car.
Something cold pressed against her cheek. Placing her hand over the spot, she was enveloped in the clean, floral scent her sister always wore, so out of place in a dingy subway in New York City that there could be no rational explanation for it. Tears sprang to her eyes.
In front of her, the doors to her train closed. The invisible presence released her as quickly as it had grabbed her, and Elizabeth stumbled forward a step. Powerless, she watched in quiet fascination as the lights of the car faded away into the dark tunnel. She held herself still, desperately wishing to hear Jane's voice again. Just one more time.But there was nothing on the silent platform for several seconds but the clatter of the departing train.
When Darcy laid his hands lightly on her shoulders, she nearly leapt out of her skin. He had clearly taken her staying as her acquiescence. It took her a moment to recover herself from her shock, a moment more to realize his long fingers were massaging her shoulders gently.
Bewildered, Elizabeth turned to confront him, certain she was going to refuse him again, but she stopped short of speaking. His expression was thoughtful, no longer did it bear any trace of arrogance. Facing each other, he spoke softly. "You won't regret this decision. I promise you. This is the beginning of a special partnership between us. This is the start of something very good."
It was not his words, but the certainty in his eyes which undermined the last of her resistance. However, she meant what she had told him earlier. She was not willing to sacrifice herself ever again. She would not concede everything she was to another person. She pulled back from his touch.
"If I am going to sign with you," she saw his jaw tense at the suggestion she still might not, "I have three conditions. One, I have to give The Hole a month's notice. Two, I get to pick all the songs on the album. And three, since you made me miss my train, you have to give me a ride home in that fancy car of yours after all, Mr. Darcy."
Silently, he withstood her challenge, appraising her for several minutes as thoroughly as she was him, before he countered. "You can give Mr. Masters two week's notice. Not one day more. I'll let you choose half the songs on the album, but I will choose the others." She found herself the recipient of a smile she was sure he used to bend women to do his bidding. "And I'll give you a ride home as long as you stop calling me Mr. Darcy. That was my father. I insist you call me Will."
Their stare off continued. She found upon reflection she could live with those terms, and extended her hand to him. "Then, I guess, you have yourself a deal, Will."
She'd surprised him that was clear. For a second, he glanced at her hand before raising his attention back to her eyes. "Deal." His lips quirked, but he pumped her hand before escorting her back to his car for the promised ride home.