Burlesque Trio

Burlesque Trio “VaVa Violet” DiCosta was the hottest burlesque dancer in all of 1942 LA until a stalker’s bullet ended her short life. Stuck in limbo, she watches time pass through the eyes of the club she died in. Nearly seventy years later, best friends Parker Thomas and Ciprian Svetski fall in love with the style of the old building and decide to return it to its former glory and reopen the old burlesque. But they know business, not talent, and the show doesn’t own up to its history. Violet’s given a second chance in someone else’s body. She shows the men a thing or two about burlesque, as well as how to sell seduction. And she decides to seduce them while she’s at it, but never imagined she’d lose her heart to them. Or that her killer wouldn’t be happy about her return. Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal Length: 37,419 words 

BURLESQUE TRIO

Alexandra O’Hurley

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

BURLESQUE TRIO Copyright © 2011 by Alexandra O’Hurley E-book ISBN: 1-61926-124-3 First E-book Publication: December 2011 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Burlesque Trio by Alexandra O’Hurley from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Alexandra O’Hurley’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. O’Hurley’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION To Xondra Day– thanks for the comment because it turned into a flash of inspiration.

BURLESQUE TRIO ALEXANDRA O’HURLEY Copyright © 2011

Prologue Violet DiCosta tentatively looked out at the gregarious audience through a gap in the red velvet curtains as a couple of other girls performed. The room was full of rowdy GIs who were loud enough to nearly drown out the girls’ music. Clouds from the men’s cigarette smoke swirled through the lights focused on the stage, looking like fingers rising up to capture the illumination. Violet’s heart was thumping in her chest as she adjusted the edge of her costume for the hundredth time, the edges of the sequined bustier chafing under her arms as she pulled it to cover her bosom. “You betta hope this new act o’ yers is gonna work. This ain’t no boogie-woogie joint. The men out there paid their two bits to see burlesque, not yer fancy hanky-panky shit, girlie.” Sal’s cigar smoke had hit Violet before his words, and she tried to not breathe in too much of the strong stogie’s stench. She turned to glare at her boss before turning back to the excited crowd. “Sal, the room is packed with GIs. Tonight’s the perfect night for what I have in mind.” Electricity sparkled through her body just thinking about being onstage and belting one out for the boys in uniform. “And boogie-woogie is on the edge, Sal. This upbeat stuff is gonna be the next big thing, you can betcha ass on it. You want this club to keep makin’ money, you need to roll with the times.”

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Violet could almost hear the dismissive wave of Sal’s hand in his voice. “Irving Berlin...Now that’s music.” Rolling her eyes as she turned toward Sal, she laughed. “Sal, you are so…old.” The heavy wrinkles framing his eyes squashed together as he smiled at her. “Old enough ta be yer granddaddy, so watch yer manners, kiddo.” The crowd let out a wave of applause that had Violet whipping her head around. After giving Sal a kiss on the cheek, she bolted to the rear of the stage and checked that her two backup girls were ready to follow her on. Violet pulled her bustier up once more as she moved to her mark onstage in the dark, sensing the girls follow suit. Laughter darted around the room, the GIs oblivious to their arrival. The boys in uniform continued to smoke, drink, and toss jokes back and forth. Violet’s heart squeezed for a brief moment, imagining that once their R & R was over, those boys would be headed back to the front lines. Tonight could be the last moment any of them had to be lighthearted and gay. Would they come back? And if they did, would they be whole? Her father had been a doughboy in the First World War and, according to her mother, had come home a broken man. She’d been born two years later and didn’t realize that the irate cur who rarely uttered a word unless it was to bitch or cut them down had ever been better. Then Black Friday had hit when she was nine, and he had lost the piss-poor job he had managed to hold down for more than a couple of months, unlike all the rest. A few weeks later, Vincent DiCosta was gone, never to be seen again. It had been tough on her and her mother, but it was probably the best damned thing that could have happened to them. She pressed the memories back into the box she stored them in, down deep inside, and took a deep breath. There was no reason to churn up all that old shit just before she was going to wow the socks off the collective group of young men in uniform. Then again, was

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there ever a reason to ever churn up all that old shit? Shaking her fingers out and loosening up, she plastered a ten-kilowatt smile on her face, knowing her bright white teeth would stand out proud set in the midst of the bright red lipstick she wore. Lights blazed back on, the spotlight hitting her squarely. She was almost blinded as the light reflected off the red, silver, and blue sequins that had been meticulously sewn all over her bustier. A silent pause of surprise spread through the room before screams erupted and hoots echoed off the old walls coated with a few layers of cigarette smoke and the smell of old booze. The GIs liked what they saw, and her inner narcissist was all fired up. Time to flip their wigs. As the tinny sound of the bugler began the first strains of “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy,” all the men came to their feet in unison, and the rush of their roar hit her full in the face. Damn, didn’t expect that. Stepping up to her microphone, Violet looked over her shoulder at the shocked expressions on her backup girls’ faces as the band joined in, the jumping jive enough to make her start to sway to the sounds. She smiled at them as she caught their eyes and nodded it was time. As the first words came out of their mouths, Violet cast a glance back to the audience. The men were up and dancing in their spots, their eyes glued to the stage. Violet soaked in their energy as she performed. She was addicted to the attention she got when she was in front of a crowd of men, and the more they gave, the more she wanted to give them. Reaching down to the front of her long skirt, she ripped the slit so it went up to the bottom edge of her bustier and pushed one bare leg out. The war effort had demanded her hose. They needed the nylon for parachutes more than she needed her legs clad, so there was no point in wearing garters. The roar from the men egged her on, and she ripped the skirt from her waist, tossing it behind her. Clothed only in her bustier, panties, and heels, she felt like a goddess onstage. She belted out the refrain,

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her powerful voice sounding out over those of the girls behind her. Violet was in her element, and she was a force of nature. As the last chords were played, the men’s deafening shouts and applause drowned out all sounds within the club. Violet stood center stage and absorbed every bit of it, her smile so large it was beginning to hurt her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she could feel their attention soaking into her, warming her from the inside out. One of the girls grabbed her by the waist and began to draw her to the backstage area. The men were not showing any signs of stopping, and Violet could have stayed out there all night listening to their praise. But the show must go on, she supposed. **** Glenn’s chest ached as the stage lights burst on her ethereal face, the shine not just coming from the illumination, but from her own incandescent inner glow. She was the most beautiful thing on Earth, and he blinked repeatedly as his eyes became accustomed to the light and he settled in to watch her every move. Violet was an angel. His angel. He’d missed her first performance of the night, and it must have been as spectacular as always given the way the crowd filled with GIs reacted when she came out. She sure knew how to entertain. Part of him hated her for displaying herself in such a way. Her breasts half-bared and nearly pushed out from atop the tight bustier she wore. The up-to-there slit in her gown showed too much of her succulent leg. She left too little for the imagination. Every man in the room saw as much as he did. Considering half the jarheads in the room would be blown to smithereens in the coming weeks, he wasn’t as bothered as he normally was by the fact that they watched her. Heck, the last good thing these yucks would see before meeting their maker would be his girl.

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And if not for these performances, he would not get to see her in all her glory either. Well, at least for now. Soon, she would be all his, and these shows would be performed in private, for his eyes only. Her eyes flicked toward him, as she must have sensed he was there again. The shy smile she gave him was so tempting. Va-Va Violet was all seductress, and her eyes kept coming back to him over and over, her inner angel drawing her to his darkness. She would complement him so perfectly. And the fact that her eyes returned to him proved she understood that she was his. While onstage, she truly performed for him. This would be easier than expected. It was time. She was ready.

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Chapter One Ciprian Svetski scanned the club, loving the retro vibe the contractors had managed to perfect. Using old photos from the thirties and forties, they had gotten the club back into its former burlesque glory. The building had sat empty for the past five years, until he and his business partner, Parker Thomas, had stumbled across the place while rehabbing another building in the same neighborhood. Back in college, the pair had scored all kinds of pussy in this club. But at that point, it had been a nineties rave with none of the glamour he saw now. No, it had been a dark and dirty spot full of black lights and hard rock when he had seen it then. Now, it was all golden damask wall coverings and rich burgundy velvet. The booths were rich leather, not that vinyl crap most places had. Marble columns and rehabbing the rich architectural designs had given the place the facelift it had been due for a lot of years. It was upscale all the way, just like the neighborhood was becoming around them. Eyes back to the stage, he winced as the girl who was auditioning for a backup dancer position fell on her keister. Hard. Turning to Parker, he saw they were in agreement. “Thanks, doll, we’ll be in touch.” Ciprian noted on her résumé a big, fat, red “no” in his broad, square lettering. “I can do better. The floor up here is slippery. Come on, man, gimme another chance.” The blonde’s curls were cute enough, but her überbony, anorexic body wasn’t something any of the men who paid entrance into their club would want to see. Add in the fact she couldn’t dance worth shit,

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and her fake tits were not a job well done, and there was no way he was offering the girl a spot. “To be honest, hon, you really don’t fit the look we have going.” “What the hell does that mean?” The blonde crossed her arms over her huge mammaries and pushed her hip bone out to the side. Ciprian took a deep breath and knew brutal honesty was a pain in the ass. “I get top billing over at The Pussycat. I have them wrapped around the fucking building every single goddamned night.” “Then why leave?” Parker’s tone sounded bored. “I’m too fucking classy for that shitty joint.” Yeah, right. “Put on twenty or thirty pounds, find a little more class, and lose those horrible fake tits, and try us again. Maybe a couple of dancing lessons wouldn’t hurt either.” Ciprian heard the muffled snort from Parker as the words left his mouth. “Fuck. You. Both.” “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Have a nice day.” As Ciprian watched her stalk from the stage and past the bar, he shook his head. The club was perfect in just about every way. The vibe was smoking, the liquor was strong, and the food was tasty. But the talent sucked. He was so tired of having audition after audition since the club opened two months before. They just could not seem to get the right gel of girls on the stage to get enough bodies into the seats to pay the bills. “You didn’t have to be quite that harsh, did you, Ciprian?” “These half-assed strippers around here don’t take no for an answer. I’m not wasting my time arguing with ’em. Better to be harsh and get them out the damned door.” “Who woulda thought it would be so hard to find dancers in LA.” Parker had never spoken a truer statement in all his life. Banging his head on the wooden paneling behind his seat, Ciprian closed his eyes. “Maybe we should have gone the traditional club

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route. Thrown a damned pole up on that stage and said the hell with it.” “You and I both know the new neighbors would’ve never gone for that. As it was you had to sell them on this dream.” “Dream? This place is turning into a nightmare. One mediocre diva who thinks she owns the place, and another six who are only marginally worse than she is.” “They aren’t that bad of dancers. Jessica has potential.” “Park, it isn’t just dancing. It’s burlesque. There has to be fire, sensuality, and overt sexuality going on up there. The perfect burlesque dancer needs to make love to every man in the room with the way she moves her body. It isn’t just dancing.” “Well, they’re all lookers, and they can dance somewhat. Maybe we need someone in here who can teach them the rest.” “Like Miss Masterson will admit she needs any help? So not happening.” Missy Masterson was the best of the worse they had, and because of that fact, she thought she was prima donna and could throw her weight around, even snatching a dressing room for herself and marking it private. Yeah, the chick did have a couple of fans, but any hot woman on stage in garters could get a man or two to follow after them like puppy dogs. She was a total bitch, and in the three short months she’d been in the joint, she had half the staff scared of her and the other half ready to assist in booting her out the door. “Then we find someone better and can her ass.” Ciprian looked over at his best friend. “Like we’ve had any luck finding someone better? How many auditions have we had now? Fifteen? Twenty?” “We need help. That’s all there is to it. We need to find someone who knows this business better than anyone else and get them here to manage the talent. I can’t deal with this shit anymore. And neither can you.”

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Ciprian knew Parker was right, but it was just something about handing over even more money that they didn’t have to feed this beast of a club. They had already gone way past their initial budgets, and the lines they imagined outside were not happening. But if they didn’t do something, and fast, they were going to put a “for sale” sign on the front door. “Do you have someone in mind?” “I can do some digging.” Missy Masterson took that moment to burst through the club’s front door. Her slicked-back, fiery red hair was tied in a tight ponytail and bounced behind her as she sashayed into the club, her five-inch stilettos beating a staccato rhythm on the marble tile. Sunglasses still on, her Louis Vuitton knockoff slung over her shoulder, she looked like a cheap imitation of Lindsay Lohan, not like the original had much more class. She might be fun for a night, but she was too godawful to be the keeping kind. She heaved up to the rounded half booth they both sat in, watching her arrival, and flung off her sunglasses in a dramatic wave. “Have you found me another backup dancer or what? I’m exhausted and need some support up there.” Missy waved a hand bedecked with long, fake nails up at the stage. “I can’t keep working like this. Well, not without a raise, that’s for sure.” Ciprian rolled his eyes. “Missy, you perform a grand total of about thirty minutes a night.” “But that doesn’t count the time preparing for my acts or the time in between, when I am making sure our customers are happy or helping to direct some of these newbies on stage. I mean, seriously, guys. You don’t give me credit for all I do around here.” “Drinking all our booze and sniffing blow in the john is not working, Missy.” Missy’s lips clamped shut, and her face turned almost as red as her hair. “I do not take drugs. How dare you!” Ciprian had just recently learned the news from the staff. The high roller who had been coming in week after week wasn’t really there for

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the show. He was Missy’s drug dealer. Missy had scared one of the bartenders into doling out free alcohol to their entire party to keep her own personal stash right on hand each and every weekend. And it was going to stop. “So, if I asked that Asian fellow to start paying his bar tab, it wouldn’t bother you?” Her face was now darker than her hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, you know, the pimped-out Bruce Lee wannabe who comes in with his entourage. I hear tell that you told Byron that he and his party drank for free.” “Byron lies. He’s—” Ciprian slapped his hand on the table to shut her up and felt a tad bit of satisfaction as she jumped an inch off the floor. “It stops, and it stops now. Get your shit together.” Pulling her knockoff bag tighter on her shoulder, she worked her lips as if she wanted to have the last word. “Move your ass to the back before I fire you right now.” Those lips clamped shut, and she walked away from the pair in silence. “Isn’t it about time we just let her go?” “Park, she’s all we got until we find the next big thing.” “Perhaps you should have laid down the law earlier. Silence is a good look on her.” Parker smiled as he began to slide from the booth. “I’ll get to digging and see what I can come up with.” Ciprian watched his friend depart and wondered if it wasn’t too late.

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Chapter Two Violet sat back down in the spot Parker had just vacated, the residual body heat warming her incorporeal form. She could scent the cologne the man wore as it mixed with the slightly muskier scent that Ciprian had on. Shivers slid through her as she cast a glance at the man himself. He had to be the sexiest thing she had ever laid eyes on, and the throw down he had just given to the redheaded bitch made him all the more sexy, but then again, Parker gave him a run for his money, that’s for sure. Not like she could do anything about it anyway. She could watch, listen, smell, but she could not touch nor taste. Violet hadn’t realized how imperative those two senses were, especially when it came to hot, juicy men. Particularly, these two, hot, juicy men, as a matter of fact. When the two had busted into her club about eight months before, she had been pissed off. She’d had to endure watching her friends in the burlesque’s slow demise before the space had been turned into a sixties hippie commune, with tons of reefer, ’shrooms, body odor, and bad poetry. Then she had to be a silent sentry as disco had evolved, and she had to admit the music wasn’t horrible, but oh, the clothes and hair had been. Once disco found its ultimate death, the club had languished for a bit with no real direction before eventually becoming a punk bar, then a goth club, a metal club, and then in the late nineties, it was just straight-up hip-hop, pop, and club music. The whirlwind of music, lights, noise, and sex over the years had been a drain on her psyche. So much fun being had around her, and she couldn’t participate. Then

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add in the drug abuse these poor walls had seen, as well as the couple of ODs she had stood witness to. She wasn’t the only ghost in these walls. The last OD had closed the place down for good. Or so she had thought. After five years of the peace and tranquility she had wanted, Ciprian Svetski and Parker Thomas had walked in the front door and nearly gutted the place. Violet had done her best to piss off the contractor and his workers, making noises and pushing items, but she had utterly failed. It took so much energy to manifest things in the real world, and she hadn’t done a great job of figuring out how to gain power from the living around her to pull it off. As she watched the workers tear everything down to the bare walls, she had screamed silent shrieks. The only place she had called home for the last seventy years was being demolished. And then she had been surprised to see what was rebuilt inside. It looked hauntingly like the burlesque club she had loved and had loved her back. Of course, it wasn’t perfect—they had taken a little creative license on the spots they weren’t sure about, or areas that just needed an upgrade—but it was so close. Close enough that it had nearly brought a tear to her eye. Well, that is if she could actually manifest tears. Ciprian and Parker had done a really great thing with the club. She was grateful to them for recreating her home away from home. Following the men around the club, she had also realized they were intelligent and savvy businessmen. Not to mention the fact they were eye candy. Those two were the cat’s meow. Until they hired Missy and she seriously wondered about their smarts. That drugged-up, dead hoofer was a curse on the place. She wouldn’t know burlesque if burlesque came up and slapped her in the face. Adding in the fact that she was the best they had only made it ten times worse. Missy Masterson was the reason the place was not getting the good dancers. Her reputation preceded her, and no one worth her salt wanted to work with the bitch. She had overheard the

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nice one, Jessica, talking about how none of her friends would come dance there because of Missy. Ciprian and Parker deserved better. She had watched as they put their hearts and souls into rebuilding the club into the lush watering hole it should be. Missy just had to go. And Violet was going to figure out a way to make it happen, if it was the last thing she did. **** Missy gazed at the image before her in the mirror of her private dressing room as she brought a fingerful of coke up to her nose and snorted, then swiped at the leftover remnants that powdered it. She was down to the last little bit of white stash, and the night hadn’t even started yet. And if Ciprian was going to interfere with her dealer’s biz, then he was going to ruin the little tit for tat she had going on. No way was she going to be able to afford her habit on the shit money she was getting paid to work in this dive. Pulling her hair from the ponytail, she reached for a brush and began working the bristles through her straight, red tresses, contemplating how she was going to smooth this whole thing over. If Byron hadn’t ratted her out, Ciprian would have been none the wiser. Byron was the cause of all her grief and aggravation. And what do you do with obstacles? You move them out of the way. Missy smiled at her reflection as the ideas formulated in her brain. She was suddenly feeling awfully thirsty. It was about time to head over to the bar. **** Parker sat in the darkened office he shared with Ciprian at the back of the club. As soft swells of music started bouncing off the walls, he knew the band was tuning up and getting ready for the night.

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Sitting in the circle of light the small desk lamp offered, he strained to look between the screen and the papers fisted in his palm. He ran one hand through his hair as he tried to match up the counts on the inventory sheet to the sales figures, knowing that Ciprian had been right. Missy was into them for a couple of grand in the short few months the club had been open. Je-sus Ch-rist. That fucking bitch. Flinging the stack of papers to the desktop, he ran his palms over his face, his eyes burning from the hours he’d spent looking over the books. Parker leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes, trying to let the anger seep out of him. Until they brought in a professional to help lead the talent, there was no reason to push her buttons. They could ill afford to boot her ass to the curb just yet. His research had gotten Parker a few leads, which he’d already called on. Hopefully, within the next couple of days, they could tap the right person for the job. Until then, he needed to keep a level head and pay attention to Missy’s every move. They needed to be sure they had the means to oust her when the time was right. Parker dropped his head back and stretched his arms and legs, trying to shake off the hours of busywork he’d done. He was not meant to be a desk jockey. His body demanded the constant movement working the floor gave him. But until they brought in the funds to cover a bookkeeper, Ciprian had volunteered Parker to plug in the numbers. Fingers swiped through Parker’s hair. Fingers that were not his own. As he jumped from his chair, he spun around to see who’d just touched him. There wasn’t a soul in the room, save himself, but he couldn’t let go of the sensation that he was not alone. “Who’s there?” The only sound that returned his pause was the band kicking it up a notch as they tested their instruments. “I know there’s someone in here.”

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As he stepped over to the door, he switched on the overhead light, spotlighting the whole room in bright white light. Parker squinted as he was momentarily blinded and, once his sight was clear, looked around the empty office. Clicking off the light switch, he forgot to breathe as the faded image of a beautiful, blonde woman appeared before him and vanished into thin air a few seconds later. I need some fucking sleep. This stress is getting to me. **** “Now, Phillip, remember that table number five is our VIP table, and all drinks there are on the house, per our bosses. Now Byron, unfortunately, didn’t know how to handle the VIP table, and that’s why Ciprian and Parker had to let him go. Make sure you keep them happy so you don’t meet the same fate. And don’t bother the two of them if there are any issues. They really are too busy to worry over any concerns, so just come find me if there is any trouble.” Missy looked straight into their newest bartender’s face, smiling at his apparent eagerness to impress. As he quickly filled the multiple glasses for the first-round orders, he kept an eye on her as well, listening to every word she said. “Now, make sure that you take real good care of them.” She stepped back from Phillip and sauntered over to table five, skimming past a few other tables so it didn’t look like she was beelining it for another vial of stash. A smile here, a well-laid giggle there, and she rounded the last of the few occupied tables and headed for her dealer and his entourage. As soon as she stepped up to the table, she felt the sense of menace that wrapped itself around the group. Sun was much taller and broader than most of his cronies, and he stood out from the pack due to that and his clotheshorse style. He was dressed in his usual black

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pinstripe, Dolce and Gabbana suit, matched up with Prada loafers. It all smelled like money and power to Missy’s jacked-up nose. “Does this bartender know what he’s supposed to do? I would hate to have to find accommodations elsewhere.” Missy didn’t care for Sun’s tone at all. “I told you it would be taken care of. Phillip knows the drill and what’s at stake if he fails. I assume our little issue is gone?” “Boys took him out the back and are headed to the hills with him as we speak. Don’t worry. He won’t talk after they get done with him.” Missy blanched for a moment, suddenly hit with a little touch of remorse. “They aren’t gonna, you know, kill him, are they?” Missy’s soul was pretty dark, but even she wouldn’t stoop to killing someone. But then again…if the moment was needed, she didn’t think she would have an issue pulling the trigger. If it meant keeping her in the lifestyle she was accustomed to, then hell, she’d do what she needed to do. “Don’t worry your pretty head about the one who opened his fool mouth. Now lean over here and give me a proper hug.” As Missy reached in to give Sun a quick squeeze, she felt the vial slipped into her hand. Bingo! She was set and ready to party the weekend away. Stepping back, she smiled at Sun and then bowed deeply as she backed from the table. She tightened her fingers around the dark-black glass bottle she held and walked briskly to her dressing room, slamming the door behind her as soon as she passed the jamb. She plopped into her chair before the mirror and unscrewed the little cap. Looking at her reflection, she felt the shiver of excitement. Missy dug into the vial, bringing out a heavy dose of the good stuff. “Ciprian and Parker are such assholes. Fuckers think they can win, but they don’t know who the hell they’re dealing with.” Missy brought the fingertip laden with coke up to her nostril and inhaled deeply. “I am the star of this piece-of-shit train, and they need to make sure I am well taken care of.” She moved to the other side and

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took the rest of the hit, letting the powerful spike that drove through her cascade along her body. The buzzing she felt in her ears was a combination of her brain firing on all pistons and the beat of her racing heart in her chest. Damn, I just took a hit less than an hour ago. I should have waited until right before I went onstage. Missy’s doppelgänger in the mirror looked back at her with wide eyes, and as she gripped tighter on the arms of her chair, she watched herself. The thump-thump-thump of her heart was way too fast, and the pain that hit her right temple was not good. As the room started spinning out of control around her, panic set in, and she realized she had probably just overdosed. Losing her ability to hold herself upright, she began to slip from her chair and ended up in a pool of loose body parts on the floor.

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Chapter Three “Oh hell, not another one.” Violet watched as the redhead slowly slipped out of her chair and onto the shag carpet. “We don’t need the ghost of that one running around here.” “She’s gonna code. The wench snorts cocaine faster than a sixyear-old moves through a bag of Pixy Stix.” Max had been here since the late sixties, OD’ing on a batch of bad ’shrooms himself, and knew all about the land of overdose. “Max, shut up and help me try and push her soul back into her body if it tries to pull a bolt job.” Violet rushed down to the floor, kneeling beside the body. “I will not live in this club with Missy Masterson.” The energy release from an event like dying was a siren call to other ghosts, and the rest of the gang quickly slipped through the walls to watch. Lydia, the midnineties goth princess, had kicked it one night while in the mosh pit, having been trampled on by a bunch of riled-up and highly intoxicated boot-wearing assholes, and she still even wore the tread marks on half her transparent face. Angelica was a preppy princess in argyle and Izod who had started 1982 with a bang. Literally. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and had gotten caught within a drug deal gone sour. Paul the Brit was a Sid Vicious look-alike and had pretty much gone out in the same fashion, at the end of a heroin needle, a year after Angelica. “Paul, get your caboose over here and help me.” Violet saw the first inches of Missy’s soul begin to float out of her corporeal form. “V, baby, there’s nothin’ we can do for ’er. She’s already codin’, an’ there ain’t no bloody fool’s gonna come in ’ere until ’er show

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starts in thirty. By then, the hen’ll be cooked, and you’ll ’ave worked yerself to death o’er nothin’.” Turning to look at the band of them, she pierced Paul with an evil glare. “I refuse, I mean I refuse, to have to live with this bitch for the rest of eternity in limbo. And if I do, I will make all of you miserable. And you know I can do it. Get. Over. Here.” Paul and Max jumped to attention, both of them slipping down to their knees on the opposite side of the body. Max raised an eyebrow as he saw the body begin to spasm. “If she starts to puke, I’m so out of here, V.” “Max, it’s not like the puke will touch you, so get over it. Grow a set for once.” Violet pointed at the second segment of soul that had started to pop out. “Paul, hold her here.” “But watchu wan’ me to do, love? We can’t hold ’er soul in there forever.” “Just hold it! Damn, must I do everything around here?” As the three of them settled into holding down the soul, it ripped completely away from her body and began to twist and scream in their hands. Paul and Max fell back, releasing their grasp, the veracity of the soul’s twisting enough to shock them into immobility. Violet held on to one edge of the ghostly form and pulled down with all of her might. Missy’s ghost was crazed, clawing and striking out at Violet, struggling to be unconstrained. It was as if her soul was still fighting the effects of the overdose even after death. Arms swirled, and fingernails bit, before Violet felt a pushing sensation. Looking back, she saw that she was lying atop the physical body on the floor, and some unknown force was sucking her down within it. Wide-eyed, she looked toward Max, who seemed to awaken from his stupor and grasped Violet’s hand, trying to pull her back out of the quicksand she seemed to be trapped in. Moments later, Paul got with the program and grasped her other hand and pulled with all his skinny body’s might. But the more they

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pulled, the stronger the force that captured her became, until she slowly sank completely into the body. Seconds later Violet opened her eyes. Lying on the floor, she slowly sat up, feeling like the world was spinning around her. As the world righted itself, she hauled herself off the floor and sat down in the chair before the mirror. Missy’s face was staring back at her. Reaching up, she felt the skin on her face and watched, stunned, as the fingers on the other side of the looking glass did the same exact thing. She jumped from the seat, her image doing the same. What the heck? A knocking came from the door. “Missy, I need a moment before you go onstage.” Oh, damn. Ciprian. She had dreamed of the moment she could really look at the amazing man and have him see her. But he couldn’t see her like this. She, in this diva’s body, looking and smelling like a ten-dollar hooker in the gaudy getup she was dressed in and the awful perfume that Missy was fond of was not her ultimate fantasy moment. She heard more knocking. “Missy! Missy, I know you are in there. Open the damned door.” Oh hell. “Just a minute.” She slapped a hand over her mouth as she ran to the closet in hopes of finding a robe or something to cover her up. Violet may have looked like Missy, but she sure sounded like her old self. “Missy? Is there someone else in there with you?” Oh, fuck. Missy’s voice was a little higher and screech-like. Raising an octave and attempting to smooth out her tone, she tried again. “No, just think I have a cold coming on. Gimme two more seconds.” “Missy, stop with the games, and just open the goddamned door.” As she slid into a pink satin robe she found stuffed in the closet, she walked toward the door. Reaching for the knob, she noticed her hand shook, and paused. Violet took a deep breath, attempting to calm

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herself. That lasted all of two seconds as Ciprian banged on the door once more and made her jump in surprise. “Missy—” Ciprian’s words were cut short as she heaved open the door. His smell hit her first. The musky scent filled her nostrils. But this wasn’t like the scent she sensed as a ghost. It was the scent she was accustomed to times a million. Arousal immediately flooded her body in response to the deeply visceral experience of him standing in front of her. She realized that even though she’d had a little taste of the world around her as an apparition, she had no longer truly experienced it in high-def. It was like watching television on a little thirteen-inch after being used to a fifty-inch flat-screen. She was addicted to the television in the men’s office, clicking the remote one of the few things she felt worth her energy to manifest. Her eyes caught the bright blue of Ciprian’s, and her knees locked into place as she stared up at him. “Gawked” would have probably been a better word. He was a beautiful man. Not beautiful in an effeminate way, but so perfectly male, he was just, well, beautiful. Being in his actual presence, feeling the heat of his body and the aura he exuded, was overwhelming. Tickling tremors raced up her arms and legs as the full impact of being a sentient being hit her with full force. “Are you going to let me in? We need to talk.” His words flooded through her ears, the rich chocolate of his voice oozing over her. She felt the ebb and flow of the little hairs within. This wasn’t life. She had lived once before and felt nothing like this. This time around she was experiencing the world more strongly than she had when she’d been alive. Every nuance of the environment around her was amplified. “Well?” Ciprian stared at her, and she realized she had never responded. Violet couldn’t find her voice, and stepped back, urging him to come

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in with her splayed hand. As he passed her, the warmth of his body singed her own, and she soaked it in deeply. Flabbergasted, she had one of the two men who had starred in her fantasies for the last few months, and she was panicked. And her stomach felt queasy. That was one part of living she could have done without. “I just spoke to Parker. He’s been reviewing the books.” Ciprian turned toward her, an eyebrow raised expectantly. For what, she really had no idea. “Are you really going to play dumb, Missy?” Violet took a deep breath and considered her words carefully before trying to emulate the way she had heard Missy speak. “How do you want me to respond, Ciprian?” Ciprian…even the name dripping off her tongue felt good. She imagined having the man on her tongue would be even better. “I don’t know what it is you are referring to.” “We already told you that we knew about your little game with your dealer, booze for drugs, but now we know just how much you are into us for. How in the world did you expect to hide a couple of thousand dollars’ worth of missing inventory in a few months from us? Parker and I aren’t stupid.” That fucking bitch! Violet stood there reeling. She had known Missy was a self-serving monster who had an inflated sense of ego, but she’d no idea the woman had been stealing from Ciprian and Parker as well. “Missy? Avoiding the situation isn’t going to make it go away.” Thinking fast on her feet, she knew that as long as she had control of this body, she also had the power to make it up to the men in Missy’s stead. For however long that was, of course. “Ciprian, I know it’s too little, too late, but I’m sorry. I’m glad you guys caught me, because I’m ready for all of this to be over. It’s time to turn over a new leaf.” “New leaf, my ass. It’s time for you to find another employer.”

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Violet felt her chest constrict. She needed to be right here, in this place, so she could figure out what in the hell had just happened and how she was going to get out of Missy’s body. Her mind raced before inspiration hit, and the words ran out of her tongue as fast as lightning. “How will you get your money back if you fire me? I’ll double my performances each night. And there are a few of the girls who really need some mentoring. I can start a dance class two days a week and teach them some new moves. Give me a chance, Ciprian. I’m willing to make it up to you and Parker.” After the words had finished rushing out, she stood there as he stared at her as if she’d grown another head. Well, Violet supposed in a way, she had. After the surprise began to slip from his face, she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle and his brow tighten, and she knew he was considering her words. At the least, he wasn’t throwing her out on her ass. Well, not yet, anyways. “Why should we give you a second chance to fuck us over, Missy?” “I just had a bad hit. It opened my eyes.” Oh boy, did it ever. “If I don’t turn my life around, I’m gonna die.” Again. “If you throw me out, who knows where I’ll end up?” Ciprian looked at her grimly, not uttering a word. The pause made it hard for her to breathe, knowing he had to say yes, that she could stay. His crystalline-blue eyes held her anchored to the floor, his anger still bright within the depths. But she thought she also saw a slight softening in his expression, that slight slackening giving her hope. Violet’s eyes roamed from the top of his dark-brown hair to his olive-hued face, seeking the slightest sign of acquiescence, her mind imagining how she wanted to touch the deep hollows of his chiseled features. He smiled so rarely, and each time, she’d been dumbstruck at how incredibly intoxicating he was. She suddenly wanted to see him relax completely, to see an easy smile come to his face as he

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looked on her. And she wanted to see him in the throes of passion above her. As his shoulders dropped, Violet released the breath she hadn’t even realized she held. **** “Talk it over with the other girls, and get me a schedule for the classes by the end of the night.” Ciprian couldn’t believe he was uttering the words. Missy did not deserve any kind of second chance, and he was missing a perfect opportunity to get her out of their hair. But he couldn’t fight the sensation that she truly seemed repentant. Either she was being honest with him for the first time in the three months he’d known her, or she was one hell of an actress. Missy flung herself at him, capturing his head and neck in her slender arms. The hug caught him off guard, and as she pressed her lithe body against him, he felt her hardened nipples press against the thin silk of his shirt through her robe. His cock seemed to notice, too, and it quickly thickened in his pants. Stepping away from her before she could feel his rapid reaction to her, he looked down at her glowing face and realized he’d never seen Missy happy. Really and truly happy. Without the snark and the bitchiness, she really was a beautiful woman. But even if she had turned a new leaf, she was off-limits, and he needed his dick to understand that. She was in no-man’s-land. His sudden arousal threw him completely off-kilter. Never before had he been attracted to this woman, and considering all that she’d done to potentially ruin their business, he had no good reason to want to fuck her. Anger filled him, more so at his reaction than anything else at that moment, and the flight response sounded a bell deep in his soul. Ciprian felt like the walls were closing in on him and now was the time to go.

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“Don’t think that everything is suddenly okay between us. It’s far from it. You want to make changes, sure, we can give you a small window of time to prove yourself. But be warned, the diva bullshit and the drugs are no longer tolerated. You need to get into a program or whatever. One toe over the line, and you’re out. You got me?” Swallowing, she nodded, the beautiful smile slipping from her bright red lips. “I got you.” “Before the end of the night, you can do one thing to prove you really mean what you say.” “Anything. What is it? I’ll do it.” “Tell your dealer to get the fuck outta my club.” Ciprian watched as the woman flinched and looked away. “Come and find me when it’s done. And don’t drag it out.” Ciprian turned toward the door and paused with his hand over the knob. “Oh, and get that cold checked out. We don’t need you dying on us.”

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Chapter Four Violet stood on the darkened stage for the first time in nearly seventy years, about to perform a song she’d wanted to do ever since she had watched an old musical on the little thirteen-inch television back in the seventies with one of the old club owners in his office. Joel had been the cat’s meow, as he also lived in his office, so she had learned to become a couch potato with him in the afternoons and had soaked up as much as she could. And the man had a serious crush on Marilyn Monroe, and she’d been so jealous of the star’s charisma. She had, like Violet, lived a far-too-short life. Violet could so relate to the woman. There were so many ideas over the years that had formulated in her head, things she could’ve done for a new act, costume ideas, knowing full well she could have bowled the men over. Sitting on the sidelines, seeing all of the music and culture changes over the years and not being able to be a part of them, had nearly killed her. Well, that is, if she hadn’t already been dead. Plus, add in the fact that she was still acting as if the life she’d led still existed. It didn’t. But Ciprian and Parker had brought her home back, and suddenly, the stars had aligned. She had a second chance. And since she had no idea how long this shot was going to last, she might as well fix as many of the things she could while the getting was good. She had found a red dress that was as close as possible to the one Marilyn had worn in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and added long, black satin gloves encasing her arms. She had to nearly force the band leader to add one of those little black doohickeys that seemed to work

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as well as the old stand microphones she had used back in the forties, and she’d had to promise that she wouldn’t throw him under the bus, whatever that meant, if Ciprian and Parker got pissed that she planned to sing tonight. As the first chords of “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” struck up, she felt her heart beating so hard against the inside wall of her chest that she thought it would rip right through her. Lights flared, the spotlight directed right on her, and there was a hush that swelled over the small crowd. The heavy necklace of fake diamonds at her neck shimmered, the light reflecting the sparkle and casting them around her body and stage like the disco ball that had once been hung high above the center of the space years ago. Violet felt the heavy weight of their stares and welcomed them. She loved being in the spotlight. She knew she could give them a show they would never, ever forget. Unless, of course, times had changed too much from what she knew and she was utterly lost in a past she could never emerge from. The moment of self-doubt nearly had her bolting from the stage. Butterflies swarmed. But she’d made a promise to Ciprian. And she didn’t back down. She let the euphoria fill her, starting at her toes and working its way up. Silence hovered through the audience as she began to sing the first few lines, as no one seemed to catch what song she was performing. Violet sashayed to the edge of the stage, and the first licks from the piano and the jazzy tune bounced off the four walls. A hoot in the audience made the knot in her stomach loosen as the lyrics she sang became apparent. Violet slowly took the steps, dancing down them seductively as she belted out the song for all she was worth. She stepped into the audience, going up to the first linencovered table and leaning across it, smiling to the two gentlemen sitting there as she serenaded them. The spotlight was quickly moved, and it began to follow her as she crept across the room, going from table to table and flirting with every man in the room.

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She approached a table filled with well-dressed Asian men and flaunted her heaving bosom at them. The sly grins she got in return, as well as the man who tried to get her to sit on his lap, kept fueling her confidence, and the more the song played, the more she got into it, jazzing it up. Picking at her fingertips, she moved to Ciprian and Parker’s table and began to slowly slide the satin from one arm. Catcalls in the background had her grinning like a Cheshire cat on the inside, but she kept the artful smile plastered to her face. As the fabric slid off her hand, she turned and rubbed it down her cleavage as she sang to the two men who had been the stars of her recent fantasies. Ciprian, ever cool, looked at her haughtily. But Parker was not as stony-faced as his friend. No, Parker’s sparkling hazel eyes were nearly bulging out of his head as he watched the seductive act before him. Seating herself in his lap, she wrapped the glove around the back of his neck to pull him close to her lips as she sang, both hands holding the edges to prevent him from pulling away from her. His scent filled her nose, and she felt the swelling of his cock under her ass, reveling in the reaction she got from him. Violet released the cloth and popped from his lap, but not before she gazed over to see the storm brewing in Ciprian’s face. The anger etched into the lines of his face was not what she expected, and it threw her offguard for a moment. But she was a pro and didn’t even miss a beat. She did start working her way back up to the stage, though, fearing the response Ciprian would have to her performance. Climbing the steps slowly as she belted out the last lines, Violet moved to center stage for the last five words, the glittering of her necklace surrounding her with shimmering light. The music stopped, and a roar let loose from the small crowd. Men came to their feet, catcalling and whistling. Screw diamonds. Happy audiences were Violet’s best friend. Her cheeks hurt from the grin engraved into her face. Looking around the audience, she knew now that Ciprian couldn’t be mad. This is what he wanted, what the

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club needed. They desperately needed performances that would get the patrons jumping from their seats and excited to come back and spending money on drinks and food. Violet curtsied to the men, blowing kisses at them. She looked toward Ciprian and Parker’s table, hoping that they both would be happy about the response she was getting, be happy with her. Hell, maybe even smile a little. Stone-face and Surprised were still parked in their half booth. **** Parker stared up at the stage, completely dazed and confused. When the hell had Missy become a singing sexpot who radiated seduction on stilettos? His cock still thrummed in time with the music that had just ended. Her come-hither act had come out of nowhere, blowing his mind. As she’d sat down in his lap and pulled his lips nearly to her own, he’d had to fight the need to press into the succulent flesh encased in bright red gloss. He watched as the woman took her final bow and walked offstage, the light dying as she disappeared. The applause and catcalls around them did not end, though, and the noise was deafening. Considering the fact the club was half full at best, he couldn’t imagine what would have happened if they had been lucky enough to be full. They would have a riot on their hands. And when the hell did she start singing like that? She sure as hell couldn’t during her audition. Was it a case of nerves? Three months later they suddenly hear the pipes she claimed she had on day one? And it wasn’t just the singing. She had moved like nothing he had ever seen, and every fiber of his being had stood up and screamed, Yes! Turning to Ciprian, he was mind-boggled and didn’t even know what to say.

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Thankfully, Ciprian started for him. “Did you see how she taunted her dealer? I told her to kick him to the curb, and she flirts with him instead.” “That’s all you have to say after that performance?” Parker saw dollar signs. If she could keep up performances like that, they had a chance to save their collective asses. “She was incredible and brought every man in this club to his feet, even that piece of shit.” Ciprian’s grim expression didn’t change. “I will not have dealing going on in my club.” “Our club, Ciprian. Sometimes you forget we are equal partners here.” A flash of blue eyes burned into Parker. “Are you saying you don’t give a damn about that asshole dealing in our building?” “No, Ciprian, that’s not what I’m saying. We don’t need that crap, and he needs to get the hell out of here. Yesterday.” Sighing, Parker jostled in his seat, trying to find room for the erection that wouldn’t stop, even though Missy had left the room. “What I’m saying is that we just watched a gold mine. If what she told you earlier about turning a new leaf was on the level, then we just might have a chance. And if she can teach the other girls one-fifth of that sex appeal, we’ll have lines wrapped around the damned block in no time.” Ciprian banged his fist on the table, the glasses jumping, liquid sloshing down the sides. As heads turned their way, Ciprian squared his jaw and paused, eyeing those who stared into looking elsewhere. Once he spoke, it was under his breath, but the evil tone was still apparent. “You expect me not to jump her ass for the way she flirted with that motherfucker?” “No, I expect you to watch what comes out of your mouth when you do. The bastard needs to walk, along with his gang, but the hell if you are running her off.” Parker leaned forward, not afraid of his friend’s aggressive tone and nature. He was not going to cower under Ciprian’s dark, European glare. The man could pull that shit on someone else, but Parker knew it was just smoke cover. Ciprian had

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been just as affected by Missy’s performance as he had. And it pissed Ciprian off. “If you aren’t capable of being nice to her, then perhaps I should go talk to her.” “No!” The desperate tone was almost comical to Parker’s ears. “No, we need to hash this out. I gave her the order, and I’ll call her out on it. She made promises to me, so I need to be the one who lays down the law.” Parker could just imagine laying down the law with the fieryheaded temptress. Shaking his head, he pushed the thoughts from his mind. Considering just hours before he was lamenting how much of a bitch she was, there was no way he was getting caught up in whatever magic spell she’d woven on all the men in the room. As she slunk across the floor in that tight dress that hugged the ample curves of her body, she had left little to the imagination. But she’d also had them begging for more. “Fine, you lay down the law. But I’m coming with you.”

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Chapter Five Violet quickly removed the dress and hung it back on its hanger, glad that Missy had something decent in her closet after all. Considering the tag was still on the damned thing and there had been a light coating of dust on it proved how much of an idiot the woman had been. She hadn’t understood class at all. If she was going to stay in this body any length of time, she’d need to go shopping for some new stompers and threads, as the getup Missy had was tasteless. Seating herself in the director’s chair at the makeup mirror, she stared into the glass. Never would she get used to seeing Missy’s face staring back at her. Violet picked out the sturdy hairpins she’d used to create a perfectly coiffed updo and let the red tresses slide down her back. She brought a brush to her scalp and swiped the bristles through as she watched her reflection. What the hell is happening? Why am I in this body? And for how long? Her eyes drifted as she contemplated her situation but came sharply back to focus as she saw her friends whisk through the back wall of the dressing room and stand in the middle of the room. “V! You were far-out, man, I mean really. Missy never did that body as good as you just did.” Max smiled at her through the mirror. Violet whipped around in her seat to answer. No one was there. Violet turned to look back in the mirror, and she saw Max and the rest of the crew staring back at her. She turned once more and glimpsed absolutely nothing behind her. Sitting back, she gazed into the mirror, a sadness striking her. These people had been her friends,

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her confidants, for many years. They’d eased her loneliness and made whatever limbo they were stuck in bearable. But, worse would be not to see them at all, she supposed. “Max, I can only see you guys in the mirror. It’s like you aren’t even here when I turn around.” “Really? That’s awesome, man. Freaky shit, girly.” Max stepped forward and lowered a hand to her shoulder. She felt a tingling presence where his hand rested but didn’t feel him at all. “But, hey, at least we can still gab. For however long this voodoo you got going on lasts.” Max lifted a hand to scratch at his slightly balding forehead. “How did you take over her body, anyway?” “Good question. I have no idea.” Paul stepped up behind her as well. “I think the biggah problem is th’ bird you stole it from. You thought she was a nasty git afore you stole it, well now she’s a ravin’ madwoman. She was watchin’ you up there on that stage in ’er body and didn’ look so ’appy ’bout it either.” Angelica popped into sight. “Yeah, she was, like, totally bugging out, V. But good news, she stormed the stage, and she, like, fell right through you. She might be totally angry, but she hasn’t found her powers, for sure, but it’s like coming, I know.” Violet suppressed a giggle as she watched Lydia roll her eyes in the mirror in Angelica’s direction. “What, like, Angelica, is, like, trying to, like, say is, like—oh hell, I have no idea how she does this all day long. Anyway, with that kind of anger, she could start manifesting sooner. The stronger your emotions, the more apt you are to push through the other side.” “You don’t have to be, like, rude, you know. Totally.” Angelica stormed to the other side of the room to sulk, crossing her arms over the fine hairs of her cashmere argyle. “I was only trying to help.” Lydia sighed before continuing. “We need to keep an eye on Missy’s spirit.” Looking around the group, Violet saw each of them nod their assent.

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“If she starts to move anything in the real world, we will try to contact you. Keep an eye out for mirrors and reflective surfaces.” A knock at the door grabbed Violet’s attention, and she swung her head in that direction. As soon as she glimpsed the mirror once more, she saw that her friends had gone. The knock landed once more as she scooted out of her chair. Violet pulled the door open and saw her favorite two men in the world. “Can we come in?” “Of course.” Violet felt the knot in her stomach take form once more as she backed away to let them inside. Stone-face and Surprised were still wearing the same expressions on their faces, and she couldn’t completely understand why. Ciprian stalked into the room as Parker slowly sauntered in. The two were complete opposites, but it was like yin and yang. The two halves made a perfect whole. Yet they so often seemed of one mind. It was apparent the two had been good friends for a very, very long time. Violet had even seen them finish one another’s sentences like an old married couple on occasion. “What the hell was that out there?” Ciprian wasted no time, where Parker just sat back and waited, calm to the storm that was his business partner. “What’re you trying to pull?” “I’m trying to give you what you wanted. Good burlesque. Great entertainment.” “Good burlesque? That’s your answer for the shit you just pulled out there?” Violet was indignant. She had busted her ass onstage to help them out, and this was the attitude she got? “Did you hear that crowd? They loved it. Plus, it’s about time we did something to get asses into the expensive Italian leather booths you had to waste forty grand on. You spent hours going over the fine details of this place, poring over the architect’s plans, so I would’ve thought you’d be happy that I was doing my job.”

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“If you could perform like that, why haven’t you been doing it all along?” Ciprian’s anger spread out through the room. “Were you trying to put us into the ground before?” “No.” “How did you know how much we paid for the booths?” Parker interrupted. “Wh–What?” “The booths. We’ve never told anyone, not even the contractors, how much we spent on those booths. And the plans? You weren’t here when we started renovations.” Suddenly, Violet realized she had spoken too much in her anger. Mind racing, she did some mental Olympics to figure out how to get out of the jam she had fudged herself into. “I must have overheard you guys. Yeah, hell, I don’t know. Just looking at all the small details of this place, it shows you invested time and energy into it.” Parker looked her over, the wrinkled forehead telling her he wasn’t completely buying her story. Thankfully, the bull that was Ciprian took over the conversation again and threw her into another fire. “And the way you flirted with Sun.” “Sun?” “Yeah, Sun. You think you’re being funny flirting with your dealer and those Asian mob cronies that circled him. I told you to get rid of him. Not fuck him with your eyes.” Ah, the dealer. At least now I know who the hell I’m supposed to be kicking out. “Don’t you think that it would be better to play nice with him versus being the big bad guy? It’s not like it’s gonna be easy.” Fuck him with my eyes? Really? “You were jealous, weren’t you?” Ciprian gritted his teeth behind the most sensual set of lips she had ever seen. “Don’t be ridiculous. What the hell do I have to be jealous about?”

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Violet turned to Parker, who was trying desperately to hold back a grin, and she knew it was true. Had Ciprian harbored a secret attraction to Missy all along? Is that why she’d kept her job as long as she had? Well, there’s no accounting for taste. “So, Parker, what did you think of my performance?” Parker stood straighter and averted his eyes. She also noted a slight redness coat his features. He was blushing. So, he’d liked what he had seen, which was good news for her. He might not have the heavy intensity that Ciprian did, but he had his own magnetism going on, too. And to get the strong, capable man to be flustered was a step in the right direction. “You did good, kid.” Kid? Kid? What. The. Fuck? “Yeah. Good.” Shaking her head, she knew Parker might actually turn out to be the harder nut to crack. “We need more acts like that. I’ve already gotten two of the girls signed up for the classes during the day. With practice, we’ll get a lot more of that into our show. Now, gentlemen, I need to prep for my next performance, and I have to figure out a way to kick out the Asian mob without getting anyone killed, so if you will excuse me?” Parker looked her over and headed for the door before pausing. “You were incredible on that stage.” The earnest admission was heartfelt. And it made her feel like she was soaring. “But after all the shit you’ve pulled in the past, it’s kind of hard to trust that this will continue. Our potential livelihood, and that of every employee under this roof, is riding on whether you fail or not.” Way to take a girl to Coney Island. Roller coasters were not her style. One moment you are up, and the next you are down, and that shit gave her a bellyache. She watched as Parker left the room, her momentary glee extinguished along with his exit. Ciprian stood rooted to the floor, not moving, just staring at her intently, his hands stuck into the pockets of his fine, black silk trousers he wore. The only motion at all was the tic of the blood

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vessel on the side of his temple that thrummed whenever he was really stressed or really pissed, or perhaps a little of both. His eyes almost seemed to glow with the pure power and masculinity that defined who he was. “You really were amazing up there.” The low timbre of his voice had tremors cascading down her back. “I told you I was willing to do whatever to turn this ship around. And I’ll prove it to you. You just need to give me time.” The weighted stare he returned had her nipples puckering and her pussy tingling, the juices beginning to coat the lips of her sex. Raw desire was in that stare, and although she’d seen passion and need when she was alive, she’d never seen the intensity of a man like Ciprian. “You’ll have to excuse me if I agree with Parker on this one. Too much bad shit has gone down already, Missy. You have a lot of proving to do.” With that, he turned and left the room.

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Chapter Six Ciprian slipped into his office, knowing he had to hide from both Parker and Missy after that encounter. His dick was so hard he’d had to put his hands in his slacks to avoid anyone from seeing it. The sudden change in Missy was scary. It was like she was a completely different woman. This new Missy, well, he couldn’t stop thinking about getting her under him in any way possible. And what was even crazier was how different she truly was. She suddenly had talent, but he supposed that could be explained by her kicking her habit. For once, she truly seemed coherent and sane. But most people got sick after stopping a habit, and she looked completely, a hundred percent A-OK. Maybe her addiction was not as bad as they’d assumed. The voice she’d had when she belted out the song onstage was new. Even her speaking voice was different. Her scent had changed. Ciprian felt like he was going insane or Missy had been abducted by aliens and someone else had taken over her body. Well, that about sums it up. Insane for $100, Alex. Ciprian moved to one of the leather chairs in the shared office and sunk into the seat, letting his body relax on the descent. Looking down into his lap, he saw the fading erection that tented his pants. And this was new, too. His attraction for this new woman she had become overnight. Hell, it wasn’t even overnight. This afternoon, she’d been the hateful cow she’d always been, and suddenly, some divine intervention a couple of hours later, and she was a brand-new woman.

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As his body relaxed, and his cock began to come under his own control again, he lifted from the seat. There was no way he could hide out for long, especially with the Asian mob hanging in the joint. Plus, Missy would be heading for the stage in another half hour, hopefully after laying the groundwork for getting said Asian mob outta Dodge, and he planned on being front row, center for acts two and three of tonight’s crazy-thon. Part of him suddenly had issue with the orders he’d given her. Those guys were not something to toy with, and if she didn’t play her cards right, she could get herself hurt. His chest tightened at that thought. Missy hurt suddenly bothered him, and big-time. But she had gotten them all into this mess, and damn it, she was going to get them out of it, too. Exiting the room, he passed her dressing room on the way back out to the club and saw her shadow moving within the strip of light at the bottom of the door. He had to push himself to keep on moving out to the front of the house and not go in there and kiss her as properly as he wanted to. Yeah, insane. Definitely insane. And to top it off, he was sounding like Rain Man. Passing out into the front of the club through the swinging door, he glared at the assembled Asians in booth five as he moved to his private booth in back, sitting down beside Parker. “Where’d you go?” “I needed to check an e-mail in the office.” “At eleven o’clock at night?” Parker’s keen eyes looked him over. The glare that formed on Parker’s face told him that his friend thought he was lying. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Ciprian glared right back at him, not sure why he felt the need to be so confrontational. Parker wasn’t just his best friend—he was more like a brother. He trusted Parker with his life. Parker eyed him closely, his gaze narrowing as he apparently determined if it was worth starting a fight over, and Ciprian prayed he

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decided against it. He was feeling way too edgy tonight and confused by his sudden and unwanted attraction to the star of their show. The crisp, hazel look backed down, and he watched as Parker’s shoulders relaxed. “So you took care of everything you needed?” Parker’s tone was still wary. Ciprian felt like an ass for taking out his frustration on his friend. Looking away, he couldn’t stand to see Parker’s pained expression. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” At that moment, she walked out on the floor, cruising through the back door, and Ciprian felt his whole body tingle and his cock lengthen. The whole room of men had turned to look at her. Missy lit the entire space with her presence. Ciprian also heard the intake of breath from across the booth. Turning to his best friend, he noticed that Parker was reacting the same way he was. “What the hell is going on, Parker? What kind of mojo is this bitch running on all of a sudden? I feel like we are in that stupid movie with Sandra Bullock and we’re on some kind of freakin’ love potion.” “I don’t know, Ciprian. I have no fucking clue. All I do know is that I can’t keep my eyes off her, my dick has a perpetual hard-on, and it wasn’t like this yesterday. She acts like a completely different female. She lights up a room as soon as she walks into it. Suddenly, she can dance and sing, and, if we could trust her, could ensure we don’t shut our doors. I’m as clueless as you are, buddy, but I sure as hell wanna see where this goes.” The two men sat there in the darkened space, watching her flounce around the room, flirting and cavorting with the other men, slowly wrapping each one around her pinkie as she went. Then she stopped at table five. And Ciprian felt his heart stop beating in his chest. ****

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Violet sauntered around the room, trying to ensure that if something went down, she would have some backup. She wasn’t stupid. Five large men versus one dainty woman was not the kind of odds she liked going into a fight with. Flirting helped win men over, and she knew how to do that like a pro. She finally stopped at table five and leaned onto the white linencovered wood, again exposing her ample cleavage. “So, boys, I hear from my bosses that you are no longer welcome in these parts. I think it might be best for you all to find another watering hole.” “Watering hole? Are you insane, bitch? I didn’t just take out your rat-boy Byron so I could turn tail and leave. You are going to honor our agreement.” Agreement? And take out rat-boy Byron? How was he involved? The bartender was a hard worker who had a family he was supporting while he went to college during the day. Anger rippled through her at how despicable Missy was. “Byron? Why’d you feel the need to take him out?” The man Ciprian had called Sun laughed with his men. “Bitch, you musta took too much blow. That, or you’re really as stupid as I thought you were. Now, go over there and tell your new bartender to send another round of free booze to the table, or I’ll make sure his ass gets beat down, too. That is, if you want me to keep supplying you.” Ahh, so that was the game. Missy was giving them free reign in the club so they could set up shop, probably for a discount on her coke habit. “No.” The laughter suddenly erased from Sun’s face, and his expression hardened. “Did I just hear you tell me no? I think I need to get my ears checked.” “Nope, you don’t need to check them. I said no. I don’t need your drugs, and we aren’t handing over any more free alcohol. The train stops here and now.”

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“Baby, it don’t work that way. I tell you when it’s over.” Sun lifted his jacket, exposing his gun, a look of pure malice spreading across his features. But all Violet could do was laugh. “I have faced death so many times, it just doesn’t scare me anymore. I’m already dead, asshole, so if you wanna shoot me, you go right ahead.” Sun stared at her, his fingers twitching as if he was contemplating whether or not to pull the gun from its holster. Instead, he rose, closing the sides of his suit jacket and buttoning the first button. “Boys, I think we need to find a spot that is more…hospitable.” The entire crew stood and began to put on their jackets as well. Turning to leave, Violet relaxed a bit, amazed it had been that easy. As the men began to walk toward the door, Sun rotated back to her. “Bitch, this isn’t over. Not by a mile. And when you come begging me for another hit, I’m gonna fuck your shit up good. Just you wait and see.” Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. Violet stood rooted to the spot as she ensured each of the men went out the front door. Her knees suddenly felt weak, and she really needed a seat. She looked toward Ciprian and Parker’s table to find it empty. Twirling around, she needed to find the quickest escape route because all the bravado and energy she had used to confront those men had robbed her of every ounce of strength she had. As she twisted, she saw them. Standing right behind her, they were watching her intently, and she wondered how long they had been back there. Violet sought Parker’s eyes, instinctively knowing that Ciprian was the strength, but Parker was the comfort. “I need to sit down. Now.” Parker glided up to her, quickly taking her by the waist and maneuvering her through the door to the back of the club. He briskly moved her to their shared office and seated her on the couch in the darkened space. Ciprian had followed, and his presence was

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suffocating. She needed more air, the breaths she was dragging in hard-won. Parker knelt in front of her and put his warm hands on her knees as she felt tears slide down her cheeks. Why the hell am I falling apart like this? Tissues were placed in her hand, and she looked up into a warm hazel gaze. “What’s with the tears, kid?” Kid? She was no fucking kid, even if she was squalling like a baby at the moment. “I don’t know why I’m crying. That was just a little frightening, but jeez Louise, I’m not into spouting waterworks. I’m sorry.” “No reason to be sorry. I’m proud of you. It took a lot of courage to do that.” Parker was like a warm blanket. He made her feel safe and warm, and the tears started to dry up a little. “Courage? If she hadn’t let her dealer set up shop in our club in the first place, she wouldn’t have had to do that.” Wiping the tissues under her eyes, she gathered the remaining wetness before turning to Ciprian. Violet just loved that she had to shoulder all of Missy’s mistakes as her own, but the pigheaded man didn’t need to make her feel worse after that showdown. She jumped from the seat and planted her feet under her. “Come on, Ciprian. Mistakes were made, and I am trying to rectify them, but let’s see you stand up against a drug dealer and his associates, worry if they are going to blow a hole in you, and walk away without feeling a little shook up.” Bringing a hand up to her cheek in mock surprise, she glared at the brilliant, blue gaze bearing into her. “Oh, wait, I’m sorry. Stone-faced Ciprian doesn’t show his emotions. I forgot.” Fueled by anger, she reached for the knob and slammed the door behind her and raced to her dressing room. Hopefully she could talk to her friends, clean up her undoubtedly destroyed makeup, and try to calm herself before her next show went on.

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Chapter Seven Parker watched as the door slammed behind Missy. A picture hurled itself off the wall, slamming into a vase of fresh-cut flowers on his desk, knocking it to the floor. Water poured out onto the hardwood floor, and glass shattered, the tinkling noise of the spread of pieces echoing in the quiet room. Ciprian and Parker looked at one another and then back at the mess on the floor. “I’ll go get some bar towels.” Ciprian walked from the room as Parker bent down to start picking up pieces of broken glass. As he was shoving shards in the trash can, he picked up the bundle of flowers and noticed all the water was running through a crack between the floorboards. Picking up more glass, he then brushed flower petals from the area and wedged two fingers into the gap and lifted. With a quick jerk, the floorboard came away, opening to a small chamber under the floor. Ciprian returned with towels and leaned down to the spot. “What the hell are you doing?” “It looks like a secret spot to stash stuff.” “What’s down there?” “Turn on the overhead light so I can see better.” A flick of a switch, and illumination flooded the room. Parker leaned in, cobwebs and dust coating the area. But he also saw hints of color. Grabbing the next floorboard, he gave it a heave and pulled it away as well. Two wooden crates and some film reels peeked out at the men, and Parker turned to Ciprian, a smile on his face. “Wonder how old they are?”

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Ciprian reached down, collecting the first of the two boxes. Settling it on the floor, he leaned back and settled himself down. The first item he pulled out, he had to blow off a few inches of dust. It appeared to be an old postcard of some sort, but it was so faded there was nothing they could make out. Parker saw two posters and slowly unrolled the decaying paper. “These are old posters from when this place was the original burlesque. Damn, look at this chick.” Parker turned the poster to show Ciprian. “Va-Va Violet. Catchy name.” Ciprian rolled his eyes. “Stop. These things are nearly seventy years old, and catchy name or not, the chick was stacked. Actually, I think I’ve heard of her before in the research I did in the building. If I remember correctly, she drew in men from around the state, if not the country, to see her perform, and the line outside wrapped around the block. We sure could use someone like that here and now.” Ciprian had found a bunch of old newspaper clippings. “Yeah, it seems she was infamous. And not for the right reasons.” “What do you mean?” “According to these stories, she had a stalker back in the day, and he was the jealous sort. He shot her through the heart on her twentyfifth birthday, here in the club, just before she was going onstage to perform. Then shot himself in some sick murder-suicide.” Ciprian scanned the article in his hand. “Yeah, here it is. ‘Glenn Arianno, thirty-six, had been hawkeyed by club personnel because of his fixation on the blonde stunner. But burly bouncers were not enough to save the femme fatale, and Arianno emptied his pistol into her chest, ending the dancer’s too-short life. The murderer then reloaded his weapon and shot himself in the head.’ Damn, did they really talk like that in the forties?” “They were detective murder mystery and G-men crazy, and it sold newspapers.” Looking down at the poster in his hands, he felt a stirring of sympathy for the woman. “Damn, poor thing, here in the

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club? That’s creepy.” Parker felt a tremor spike through him, and goose bumps rose on his arms. “Oh, what, you think the ghost of Va-Va Violet is gonna come get ya?” “Funny, asshole. Nah, I was just thinking it might be cool to get the posters refurbished and hung on the wall, but not sure we want to talk up the fact she was murdered here.” “Why the hell not? Ghost stories can bring people out of the woodwork. I think we have found a new way to help raise attendance in the club, my friend.” Parker lifted one of the old tin covers, looking at the film sitting inside. “Wonder if these are any good? The film looks to be in fair shape.” “We can always rent a projector and take a look. Probably nothing but old porn.” “It could be performances here. Could be something to show the girls so they could get a feel for the old-school burlesque that they used to do here.” “Even better. We can rent one tomorrow and check it out.” **** Violet dropped in front of the mirror, looking through it at her reflection, not seeing any of her friends inside the room. Distraught, she looked at the mess her mascara had become and felt like crying all over again. Instead, she collected some tissues and went to work on fixing the raccoon eyes she had. Fixing her hair, she put in the large pin curls as quickly as possible. She dug through Missy’s closet and found a blue, sequined gown that needed some refurbishing, and then removed the gaudy collar and puffy sleeves to turn it into a halter dress. Once she clipped away the stray strands of thread, Violet changed into the dress,

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deciding to do one of her favorite acts. By returning to an old standby, it would calm her nerves a bit, she supposed. She stepped from her dressing room, feeling utterly alone and sick with exhaustion, but she knew she could get through this act like a champ, and that the crowd would feed her failing muscles. Violet stopped the bandleader, hoping the band would be able to back her up again. **** Ciprian settled into his seat, wondering what Missy would do to blow his mind yet again tonight. With every interaction over the course of the night, she had raised the bar, and he wasn’t sure if she could surprise him anymore. The lights lowered and a single spotlight zeroed in on her, looking lost and forlorn in the center of the stage. Until the bugle played, that is, and a smile plastered itself across her face and she began to move across the stage. Sweet jive music filled the space, and then she began to belt out the lines, backed up by two of the three females in the band. Transfixed, Ciprian watched as she dove into “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” and couldn’t help but tap his foot as she drew him into her performance. All the men in the room began to clap to the beat, moving their bodies to the rhythm, whistling as she shook and shimmied and owned the damned stage. She was ethereal. Missy truly did blow his damned mind. The words flew from her bright red lips, and she winked. Inspiration struck, and he grabbed his smartphone from his pocket and quickly began to record the performance, so enamored by her. They had just started using social media, and this needed to go on their Facebook page. She winked and flirted with the crowd from the stage, and made each and every man in the room feel special. Her body moved in a way he could only imagine it moving under him as he thrust hard within her.

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As she sang the last few lines, the music ebbed. Every man in the room jumped to his feet, and the applause was a thunderous riot that drowned out every other sound except for the catcalls and whistles. She stood in the center of the spotlight, smiling, her hundred-kilowatt smile spread from ear to ear, apparently soaking up the adoration. Missy curtsied, winked, and saluted before running offstage. **** Violet sat in the chair looking at another woman’s face in the mirror, pure exhaustion making her unable to move. After five performances, the end of the night was finally here. She still had not seen hide nor hair of her friends, nor had she seen sight of ghostly Missy either, which she wasn’t sure was a good or bad thing. It took too much energy to raise her arms or move her legs, so she just sat there. After seventy years of not performing, added to the fact she was in a body of a woman who apparently did not eat as much as she should, she was done. A knock at the door sounded, and she couldn’t even gather the energy to care who was on the other side, or get up and open it. Fortunately, she was fairly certain she had not locked it. “Come in.” Parker’s kind eyes whipped through the small space he had cracked. “You decent?” “Yeah.” He moved into her room, then leaned up against the wall to her right. “You look beat.” “I am.” “You were fantastic tonight. You really were.” A smile rose to her lips, even though she didn’t know where the energy had come from. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” “I just hope…” “That you can trust me. I know. I get it.” Less than one day, and she was already tired of carrying around Missy’s past. How had the

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woman done it? Oh yeah, right. She didn’t have a conscience, apparently. Parker moved behind her, rubbing her shoulders with strong fingers. The pressure felt sublime, and she melted into his hands. A small moan escaped from her lips, and she dropped her head back against his stomach. Catching his gaze in the mirror, she saw the lust circling the hazel depths. He was such a handsome man, light where Ciprian was dark. Taller and leaner than Ciprian’s compact form, Parker was…comfortable. And she didn’t mean that in a bad way. He was the man you could be friends and lovers with. Ciprian was all fire and fight, and she was sure he was incredible in bed. Parker, well, Parker was the sort of man who you could lean on when the going got tough, the rock to rage against in the storm. One hand lifted, the backs of his fingers brushing across her cheek, his eyes closing as he touched the smooth skin. Turning her face, Violet placed a kiss to those fingers, appreciative of the comfort he’d already given her in this form. Regardless of what Missy had done in the past, he had been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. He stiffened with the kiss and dropped his hand. “Go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be here before you know it.” Violet watched as Parker moved to the door and paused to look at her and smile before he closed the wood behind him. Sighing, she sunk deeper into the chair. Home? Where the hell is home? I haven’t left this club in seventy years. Panic fueling her, she jumped from the chair and searched for Missy’s purse. Opening the ugly monstrosity she packed her life into, Violet flipped the thing over and dumped the contents on the floor. Pushing around the items, she found empty cocaine vials, tampons, gum, change, and, voilà, keys and a wallet. She opened the wallet and prayed like hell that the address was current and that one key on that

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chain opened a front door, because if she spent the night, the guys would get curious as to what she was doing. Plus, a bed sounded incredibly wonderful at that moment. “What the hell are you doing?” Spinning around, she saw Missy in the mirror. “I’m, ah, I’m…well, you see…” Missy eyed the keys and wallet in her hands. “Just stepping right into my life, are you? You enjoying my body, whore? I saw the way you have been curling up to those two fucktards that run this shithole.” “It isn’t a shithole. They did an incredible job of turning this place back into a beautiful club.” Missy laughed and began to mock her. “Ohh, they did an incredible job of turning this place back into a beautiful club. Get a life, darling. Actually, don’t, and give me mine back, you thief.” “I didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t even know how I got into your body. But it isn’t like you were taking proper care of it, Missy. And you were dying, you dumb broad. So the way I see it, it was fair game.” “Mark my words, ghost. I will find out how to get my body and my life back. No way am I going to hang around this dump for the rest of my life.” Life? Try limbo, sister. Missy disappeared from the mirror, and her friends filled it. Paul stood at the front of the pack, smiling at her. “Tha’ hen’ll figure it out, too. She watched you’ shows, each an’ every one o’ ’em, ragin’ like a bull. She moved a curtain a time or two. Next time, it’ll be somethin’ biggah. An’ aimed at yer head.” “She wasn’t a good vibe in life, V, so she isn’t a good vibe in death. I feel this freaky presence around since she’s been on this side, and it isn’t good.” Max lifted his blue sunglasses off his nose, pushing them over his high forehead. “She brought some seriously bad karma along with her.”

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“Totally. She creeps me out to the max.” Violet realized one of their party wasn’t there. “Where is Lydia?” “She thought she felt, like, this totally weird sensation, and she wanted to go, like, check it out or something. We really should go and make sure she is, like, safe and all.” “Yeah, go do that.” Lifting the keys, Violet shook them at the mirror. “I’m going to find Missy’s apartment and try to get some sleep. Being in a body again is exhausting.” “Outside? Yer gonna leave the club?” Paul’s words echoed with fear. The others echoed his tone with the looks of surprise on their faces. “You are totally going to get to see the real world.” Angelica beamed at her through the mirror. “You so need to go try one of those coffee bars I keep hearing them talk about, and Rodeo Drive…Yeah, you need to totally melt one of Missy’s credit cards and get some real clothes, not that grody crap she normally wears. That would be so rad.” “Clothes are on the agenda. But right now, I just want a bed.”

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Chapter Eight Ciprian stood waiting for Missy to come out of her dressing room as he wasted time looking over the night’s receipts at his booth. She seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to leave tonight, but after her little scuffle with her dealer, the hell if he would allow her to walk out the front door alone. He’d also put in a call to a buddy of his down at the local precinct and to make sure that there was a five-o sitting right down the block in case something hairy went down. He wasn’t the one who typically looked over the receipts or did the books. Most of it looked like mumbo jumbo to him, but as Parker was heading over to rent the projector first thing, Ciprian had volunteered to take over the responsibility. Plus, that gave him the prime spot to make sure Missy made it to her car safe and sound. After what felt like ages, the swinging door that led to the back of the house lopped open, and he saw her red hair poke out from behind. She was dressed so much more demurely than she’d been when she got in today. A simple pair of jeans and a light-blue sweater made her appear much softer than normal. Gone was the gaudy jewelry, the faux designer purse, and the over-the-top hairdo, and in its place was a soft woman with her barriers down. The roar to step up and protect her was deafening. A bag was slung over her arm and a set of keys jingled from her hand as she moved closer to the front door. The low, overhead downlights showed her exhaustion etched into her face, the dark circles under her eyes deep. She said goodnight to the bartender and barbacks, amused smiles crossing their faces as she passed. This was not the Missy anyone was used to dealing with on a nightly basis.

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It was better. “You did well tonight.” Missy paused as she was moving past the table, seemingly surprised that he was sitting there. A light just over her head created a halo around her, her beauty making her even more angelic-looking. Ciprian’s gut clenched when he realized she had on no makeup, something he had never seen her without. Normally, it was pancaked heavily on her face, not only for shows, but in her day-to-day appearance. Without it, she was stunning. Missy was one of those few women who were flawlessly beautiful bare skinned. “I hope it didn’t hurt too much to say that.” The usual snark in her tone was gone. She just sounded weary. “After everything you’ve done, do you really not understand my attitude?” “No, no, I get it. It totally get it. I’m just really tired, and I want to go home. I will see you and Parker early. I’m going to try and catch the girls that weren’t here tonight and complete the class schedule.” Ciprian felt a flare of hope that she could follow through with her promises, for once, because he could see himself falling head over heels for the new and improved Missy. “Hold up. I’m going to walk you to your car.” “Car? Oh, no, I’m too tired. I had Phillip call me a cab.” “A cab? You are going to leave your Beemer in the lot overnight?” She treated that car like it was cast in twenty-four-carat gold. Was she the insane one? “Beemer? Oh, yeah, the Beemer. Nah, I’m sure it will be fine. I don’t trust myself to drive.” “I can drive you home. You don’t need to pay for a cab.” Her eyes rounded, a slice of fear cutting through her gaze. “No, no, Ciprian, it’s way late. You need to get home yourself. I’m fine with the cab, really. I appreciate your offer. I really do.”

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“Fine. Take the cab.” Anger filled him, and he wasn’t completely sure why. “I really don’t care one way or another. But I am walking you out.” “Why?” “Your dealer? He leveled a threat tonight, and as your boss, it is my responsibility to ensure your safety on my property.” Because I suddenly can’t stand the thought of you being hurt. Or worse. Missy nodded her consent and began walking to the door, looking over her shoulder midway there to ensure he was behind her. The view from the back was as good as the one from the front, possibly better. He was an ass man, and oh boy, did she have a flawlessly round rump. It was perfect to land a hand across when it was bare, leaving a pretty pink handprint on the plump globe. Ciprian’s hand itched to do just that and more. Moving fast, he caught the door before her hand could push it open, and he moved behind her like a shadow to the parked yellow cab out front. Deep night had set in, the other clubs in the district had been long closed, and no one was milling around—not that he saw, anyway. He continued the gentleman act and opened the car door and held her belongings as she seated herself and he scoped out the street. Satisfied that no one was waiting on her, he reached in to prepay the cabbie for her ride. “Where to?” the cabbie asked him. “Where are you going, Missy?” Missy looked at him, her lips moving, but not making a sound. Suddenly, she pulled out a wallet and looked it over. “Two-thirteen Willow Point Avenue.” Ciprian leaned in and saw she held her keys and license like they were her lifeline in her trembling hands. “You have to check to know where you live?” Her eyes caught his, and she let out a nervous laugh. “I, um…I…just moved. Haven’t memorized the address yet.”

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“I didn’t know you had moved. Make sure you let Parker know so he can change your file.” “Sure thing, will do it tomorrow.” “Okay, then, good night.” Ciprian closed the door and slapped his hand on the roof. As the taxi disappeared from sight, he knew in his gut that there was something really strange going on. **** Violet released her breath as the taxi took off, glad to have finally gotten away from Ciprian’s prying eyes. Both he and Parker were too bright, and they caught her every time she slipped. But it was over for the night. A bed with her name on it hopefully awaited her in Missy’s home. Looking out the cab window, Violet saw the changes that had been made to the city she loved. Unfortunately, because of the hour, it was dark and didn’t teem with life, so she felt as though she was missing out on her first field trip outside the four walls of the club. But as tired as she was, she probably wouldn’t have been able to enjoy much of what she saw anyway. A few blocks later, she was deposited in front of a large, brick apartment building, and she grabbed her things and left. Walking to the front door, she looked back at the license—apartment C3. A quick elevator trip later and she was standing in front of a white door with a C and an upside-down 3, pushing in the first key that looked like a house key. She hit pay dirt on key three and pushed into the place. The apartment wasn’t the cleanest around, nor was it in the best neighborhood, but once she found the bed and fell into it, she knew it would do for the night. ****

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“I’ve never set one of these up.” Parker threaded the strip through the machine as the guy in the rental shop had shown him, hoping like hell he wasn’t ruining anything. Once it was complete, he hit the power button and hooted for joy that he had gotten it right on the first try. Ciprian hit the lights and closed the blinds, and they settled back on the couch in their office, the wall that was missing its picture turning into the perfect screen. A shot of an empty stage, their empty stage, showed up. Only it was the original burlesque club, back in its heyday. The club was filled with men, most of them in military uniforms, so it must have been World War II time frame. The lights in the club dropped, and a single spotlight hit center stage. “I feel like we are missing popcorn and soda.” Ciprian chuckled under his breath. Parker laughed, thinking pretty much the same thing, until she walked into the frame. With her blonde hair, done in a similar style to what Missy had worn the night before, and her curvaceous body, the woman oozed sexuality and sin. She had a broad, white smile plastered on her face, and the sequined gown she wore threw off shimmering light all around her. It was Va-Va Violet, the woman on the posters they had found. Violet soaked up the hoots and hollers from the crowd, her smile getting bigger and bigger. A bugle player pierced the silence of the room, starting the first chords of “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy,” and the woman danced around the stage, wowing the crowd of young soldiers with her sultry moves and cut-it-with-a-fork stage presence. Parker turned to Ciprian, his eyes as wide as he assumed his were. It was as if he was watching a blow-by-blow reenactment of Missy’s performance the previous night. But what was the uncanny part, it was the same exact voice. When Va-Va’s act was over, the crowd of men roared, up on their feet, the applause deafening. And after a few moments of reveling in the adulation, Violet curtsied, winked, and saluted before running

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offstage. Parker sat there in silence as the film ended and the flapping of the film hitting the light was the only noise in the room. Ciprian jostled around, pulling his phone out of his pocket. After hitting a few buttons, he aimed it so they could both see the screen and hit play. Parker watched a replay of Missy’s performance, every move, every nuance exactly like the one they had seen on the screen moments earlier. “What the hell, Parker?” “She must have found copies. Missy researched the club and somehow found footage of Va-Va Violet and is emulating her.” Parker was grasping at straws, but what else could it be? “Yeah, okay, I suppose that is a possibility.” Ciprian didn’t look like he bought Parker’s argument at all. “But, how do you explain the voice, man?” Silence filled the room.

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Chapter Nine Violet turned over in the bed, stretching her arms and legs, wakefulness slowly streaming into her body. The bed was warm and comfortable, and she really didn’t want to get up. Another good stretch and she opened her eyes. And sat straight up. She was still in Missy’s body, living Missy’s life, and lying in Missy’s bed. Getting up, Violet waded through piles of clothes on the floor. She found the bathroom, taking care of her morning rituals, or what they had been. Ghosts didn’t require the normal day-to-day habits of the living, and it felt odd to return to such behaviors. After a quick shower, she washed her face thoroughly and then grabbed the toothbrush, eyeing it with disdain. It had been in Missy’s mouth, and an “oh, gross” second stole over her. But then she realized Missy’s mouth was now hers for the moment, so she went for it, brushing with vigor after rinsing the bristles thoroughly. Violet dug through Missy’s closet, picking out items she was willing to be caught dead wearing, and a few other pieces that she could use in acts for the night. Missy had been a veritable clotheshorse. There were mountains of clothing everywhere, but unfortunately, her taste was appalling. Eyeing the laptop humming in the corner of the bedroom, Violet sat down and gazed at the thing. She had been amazed as she had watched computer technologies advance more and more, and she had peered over the shoulders of many club owners and employees over the years as they had entered in figures and information.

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In the last few months, she had watched as Ciprian and Parker had used something called the Internet that had notes, films, and dirty jokes on it. Something called Google was up on Missy’s screen, with a little blank that she knew you were supposed to use the typewriter to fill in what you wanted to find. She typed in the word burlesque and found all kinds of videos from some chippie named Christina. Violet struggled to get the thing they called a mouse to work, but after some toiling, she was able to get the first footage to play. Her eyes and ears felt like they were popping out of her head as she watched the skinny blonde sing and dance around the screen. Toe tapping, she loved the forties-vibe music and replayed some of them more than once. It wasn’t exactly traditional burlesque, but it was evolution. Times changed. Tastes changed. She had been the witness to the quick progression of time in the club over the years. Ideas came flashing into her head, and she spent the next three hours soaking up everything she could, finding more from her favorite, Marilyn, as well as adding in some Etta James and Peggy Lee. Tonight, she was going to take her performances to a whole new level, and the crowd wouldn’t know what hit them. Another cab ride later and she was seated at the bar, eating a bowlful of the most incredible food, and she realized she hadn’t eaten a mouthful yesterday after she fell into Missy’s body. No wonder she had been so exhausted. Seated beside her was Hank, the bandleader, and they were going over the list of music she had written down during her research, trying to come up with a set list. Ciprian and Parker walked out of their office as Violet was shoveling another mouthful of shrimp Alfredo, and she waved at them, excited to see them both. Neither looked as excited to see her, and the weight of being Missy hit her once more. When she had worked at this club, everyone had loved her, so having every single person under the roof wary of her was hard on her emotional wellbeing.

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The two men approached her and listened in to the end of her conversation with Hank. “I do want to add in the two new ones from last night, and once I finish eating, I’d like to do a run-through of ‘Express’ and ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’ to get the timing right. And then I want to help Jessica do a few runs of both of her acts, see if we can spice them up a little. Oh, and before I forget to ask, is there any way that you would be willing to come in Tuesday? I’m working with three of the girls, and musical assistance would be great.” Hank looked as surprised now as he had in the beginning of the conversation. “Girl, you want me there on Tuesday, you got it, as long as you keep on keeping on. Hit me when you are ready for the runthroughs, and we can practice the songs ourselves along with you.” “Thanks, Hank.” Ciprian sat down on the stool that Hank vacated, and Parker sat beside him, both of them gawking at her. “What? Do I have something on my face?” Ciprian shook his head. “No. Nothing on your face. Just trying to figure out what the hell you have done with Missy.” Violet looked up, her eyes widening. “What do you mean, what I did with Missy?” Both men looked at each other and then back to her. “Nothing, it’s just a figure of speech.” “Oh.” Violet hid her expression by slurping up another big bite of Alfredo, a moan escaping her lips. “This is so good. I haven’t eaten in forever.” “Um, Missy, aren’t you allergic to shrimp?” Parker leaned in to look at her bowl. “We had to have you sent out of here on a gurney when Bobby accidentally served you a bowl of chicken Alfredo that had a shrimp in it.” Violet continued to chew, the delicious food suddenly tasting like rubber. Swallowing deep, she faced the men with a smile. “You must be confused. I’m allergic to…ah…crab. The bowl had crab in it, not shrimp.”

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She hated crab, so that would make it easier to keep that particular shellfish away from her plate. “Ah, crab.” Ciprian smiled at her as she continued to chew. Pushing the last spoonful into her mouth, she lifted from the stool and walked to the stage, knowing she felt both men’s heated gazes on her rear end. She wasn’t sure how much time she had left in Missy’s body, and damn it, she was going to experience all she could before she left. No way was she going back to limbo without bedding one of the men tonight. Enticing them with a little of her bump-and-grind bit wouldn’t hurt either. She nodded to Hank and called out the song she wanted. Violet pulled off her jacket and T-shirt, her body clad only in an allblack bodysuit and her dance heels, and then she reached into her bag, pulling out the fedora she found in Missy’s apartment. Va-Va Violet was in full gear, and she was going to use every ounce of charisma and seductiveness she could to get one of them into bed. She pulled a chair onstage with her, turned its back to the audience of two, and sat in it backward, tugging the fedora down low. As the first chords to “You Can Leave Your Hat On” started to play, she began to undulate, snaking her body in a private dance for Ciprian and Parker, rolling her hips over the seat of the chair, imagining her body moving over theirs, a hard length pressed up against the heat of her pussy. She made slow, sweet love to that chair as she crooned out the words to the sultry song, capturing their eyes one at a time with the one eye not covered by the hat. Their gazes were heavy, the lust she felt reflected back at her tenfold. Both of them squirmed in their seats, hopefully because their dicks were hard, not because they felt uncomfortable. Rising from the chair, she turned her back to them, rolling one shoulder up as she turned to look at them over it. They couldn’t take their eyes from her, and Violet saw Ciprian’s tic start at the side of his temple. Apparently, it also pulsed when he was horny, not just stressed or pissed.

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When the last words were completed, she turned to thank Hank and the group before turning to Ciprian and Parker. “So, what did you think? Can we add that to the show?” Both men spoke in stereo. “Yes!” **** After her third performance of the night, Violet was starved again and sat in her dressing room, slurping up a bowl of Caesar salad and sipping a glass of white wine. Seated at the vanity, she gazed into the mirror and talked to her friends between bites. As she brought the final forkful to her mouth, Missy stormed through the group on the other side. “You had better not make me fat. I’ve worked hard to get that body.” “Yeah, a steady diet of cocaine and no food is a great diet and exercise plan. Fuck off, Missy.” “Fuck off, Missy?” Ciprian’s head was peeking through the doorframe, staring right at her. “Am I interrupting?” “Oh, no, I was just talking to the old Missy. She wants to rear her ugly head, and I refuse to let her.” “Yeah, I like that thinking. I much prefer the new Missy myself. And have you seen the club? I think our clientele likes the new Missy much better, too.” Violet had seen the much larger audience tonight. Word of mouth spread quickly, and she loved packing the house. It wasn’t completely full, but it was a serious improvement over the normal Saturday-night crowd. Booths were full, and most of the tables near the stage were packed with men, and even a few women littered the gathering. “It’s nice to see more people to entertain. I also added the video from your ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’ performance to our social media sites, so I’m sure that may have some people interested in

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what’s going on here. And I like the additions to Jessica’s act. A little more work and she might give you a run for your money.” Violet saddened a moment. Jessica was the one girl in the club who really and truly showed promise and had the right attitude. She planned on working as much as she could with the girl, as once she was gone, Jessica was the one who could carry some of the weight. “I certainly hope so. It’s a team effort, so I need as much help as I can get.” “I like the attitude. I do.” Ciprian moved closer to her, resting his hand on her shoulder as he looked at her in the mirror. The only thing ruining the scene was Missy standing to the other side, watching them. “You have changed into a whole other person in the matter of a day. And I like this person a lot.” A palm crossed in front of her face, and Ciprian captured her cheek, turning her to face him. “A whole lot.” Lowering, Ciprian captured her mouth with his. His musky scent attacked her nose as she breathed him in on a surprised sigh. Once her mouth opened, he snuck in his tongue, licking against her teeth to open her further. “That’s fucking gross. Stop kissing that asshole with my mouth.” Violet ignored Missy and allowed the sweet assault to continue, Ciprian’s warm hold moving to the back of her head to gently urge her to deepen the kiss. “This is disgusting. I’m not going to stand here and watch you allow him to do that to me.” Standing from her chair, she molded her body against his much taller one, reaching up on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss even further, reveling in the thick band of flesh that was hardening against her stomach. Violet loved his reaction to her, even if she was in Missy’s body. After seventy years of not being touched, loved, kissed, she was ready for whatever she could get from this incredible man. Ciprian stepped back, taking her with him as he lowered himself to her couch. She straddled his lap, her robe opening and revealing

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her black bustier and hose. The hiss he expelled when he opened the satin wrapper more was music to her ears. Thrusting the fabric over her shoulder and to the floor, she moaned as he slid his hands along the sides of her undergarment, grinding his hard cock into the delicate, sheer lace at her pussy. She felt wetness flood her cunt, and she recaptured his lips in the kiss that was nowhere near complete. Frantic, she reached in for the clasp of his belt, needing to feel the hot brand of his cock in her palm. Ciprian ended the kiss and aided her, getting the belt open and the button undone as she made quick work of the zipper, tugging it down. His thick cock sprang out of the opening, and she slid her fingers over the warm flesh. Ciprian’s groan of delight egged her on, and she moved to the base, tugging her fingers up the thick length. Violet heard a splitting noise and felt her panties being pulled from her body. Lips moved against hers again as she felt the bulbous head of his cock slide over her pussy, the friction delightful. He gathered her juices, coating his length with the essence. Violet lifted a leg, needing to feel the connection of being joined with this man, the desire she felt exploding within her. A knock at the door sounded, and a voice called out, “Five minutes, Missy.” The moment lost, they stared at each other, caught in the twisted mass of their lust. Violet watched the storm clouds move over his face and wondered if they would get this moment back, if it was possible to still have him in her bed tonight. Pressing her lips to his, she nibbled at his succulent mouth. “Five minutes is more than enough time.” “Not for what I have planned.” The words gave her hope. “And what do you have planned?” “You’ll find out at the end of the night.”

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Chapter Ten Parker watched every one of Missy’s performances alongside his best friend. She was phenomenal. The new acts were over the top, and she had the crowd eating out of the palm of her hand. Near the end of the night, they had filled up more and even had a short line outside. He and Ciprian had given up their usual booth and stood at the edge of the bar while she performed her last two sets. The kitchen was hopping trying to fulfill orders, and the waitstaff was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Ciprian had even pulled a little bartender duty as Parker had played host at the door. Not only had Missy pulled a one-eighty, but she had successfully done the same to their club. She was a dynamo. And he was intoxicated by her. Once her last song was over, the house stood and roared their applause. Adulation worked wonders on Missy. She ate the shit up with a spoon. But unlike before, she did it with grace and style, making you want to put her on the pedestal she used to demand. And tonight would be the first step in showing her exactly how he felt about her. To hell with the whole employee-employer rules. To hell with the fact that she hadn’t proven to them she was finally on the straight and narrow. He was going to help make sure the new Missy was the only Missy there was. She left the stage, and Parker saw that Ciprian was still stuck behind the bar. He took his moment while he could. Slipping through the back door, he moved to her dressing room and knocked. The door whipped open, Missy standing in the center, her robe open and her

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eyes glazed over. And she looked somewhat surprised, but the moment flashed over instantly. The surprise was replaced by heat. There was no mistaking the lust in her eyes. “Can I come in?” Missy stepped back, allowing him to enter, and when he did, her scent overpowered him. It wasn’t the old smell of bad perfume, stale booze, and even staler cigarettes. He hadn’t even seen her light up over the last day. So perhaps she was kicking several bad habits at once. Took a strong person to do that and make a complete oneeighty. No, now she smelled slightly of flowers and a sweet musk that was her and her alone. He could tell she was turned on, and he was just the man to light the fire she needed. Once she shut the outside world out with a twist of the knob, he pressed her against that door, pressing her back to it and lifting her to fit her legs around his waist. Nose to nose, as they had been when she had sung to him the day before, he had wondered if she would kiss him. Then, he had nearly recoiled at the thought, but a part of him had been disappointed when she hadn’t. Now, there was no doubt in his mind that he would taste her lips. Her little pink tongue darted out to wet the seam, and at that point, he knew she wanted it as bad as he did. With no preamble, he kissed her, the intimate possession making his heart beat even louder in his ears. That, coupled with the heat of her pussy in a strategic spot, made his dick harder than at any other time in his life. Pressing open the thin robe she wore, he saw the black bustier and garters holding the silk of her stockings in place and groaned deep in his throat. She was sex incarnate. Missy had the moves, the attitude, and definitely the right attire. The kiss deepened, and his hands became desperate in their need to touch her. Dipping a hand below the bustier, he captured a breast and pulled it from its confines. Her little rosy nipple peeked out from behind the black and was too succulent to ignore. Parker lowered his

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head to capture the tip between his lips, sucking it deep in his mouth. She tasted as good as she smelled, like a woman on fire. Her moans ricocheted around the small room, and her hands fisted into his shirt as he held her aloft and sampled her. Missy’s head thrashed from side to side as he continued to lave the hardened point and pressed his stiff cock along her pussy. Reaching down between her legs, he immediately felt dampness. She wore no panties. Parker slid one thick finger inside her pussy as he recaptured her lips in his, swallowing her moans of lust. His finger pumped, foreshadowing his desires, of what he would be doing to her very soon with his hard cock. She was wet and ready, moving her hips in time to his hand’s thrusts, mewling noises of appreciation of his efforts. The blood thumping through his dick screamed his need to claim her, and he began to open the button on his slacks. Just as a loud knock rang out on the door behind her head. **** Nooooo! Not again. This was Violet’s second chance today to bed one of the two men, and someone was ruining it. Was this Max’s karma he was always talking about? Was someone upstairs not happy that she was in Missy’s body, so they were doing everything in their power to prevent her from enjoying the temptations of the flesh? Parker removed his finger from inside of her and let her slide down his length, her wobbly feet finding the floor. Another knock sounded. “Who is it?” “It’s me, Ciprian. Let me in.” Oh hell. Parker stood back and seated himself on her couch as she tightened her wrapper back into place. Sliding a trembling hand through her hair, she twisted the knob and opened the door.

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The sexy smile on Ciprian’s face nearly brought her to her knees. Violet couldn’t remember ever seeing the man really smile. A quick chuckle or grin—yeah, few and far between, but those quick flashes were there—but a whole-mouth smile with bright white teeth? Well, it had never happened. But that smile quickly receded when he looked over her face, and then over her shoulder, and saw Parker parked right behind her. “Are you going to let me in?” The smile completely disappeared, and Stone-face was back in town. She sensed that he knew exactly what had been going on just prior to his arrival. She backed up and let him in, and she saw his chest rise, puffing out like he was about to go into battle. Parker was his best friend, and the hell if she was going to let that happen. It was time to nip this one in the bud. “So, what were you two doing?” Ciprian’s light tone was a complete lie, as she could hear the coiled anger within him. “Something fun, until you had to interrupt.” Violet had never seen Parker truly angry in the months he’d been in the building. He rose, allowing his full height to balance out the two men. Parker had a couple of inches on Ciprian, but Ciprian was more solid. There was no way to know how a fight would turn out. “Boys, stop this before it even starts. You have been best friends for most of your life. You have shared work, shared deals. You both built this club together, a club that you share ownership of. You share an office. And now you can share me.” Violet was amazed she’d had the guts to say the words that had drifted through her fantasies aloud. For months, she’d imagined both of the strong men dominating her, loving her. And now was her one shot to have them both. If they agreed. Both looked at her incredulously, their eyes wide and their mouths open. “Before you can say no, just listen. Yes, it isn’t a relationship that most people have, but look at the facts. You are both attracted to me, and I’m attracted to both of you, equally. If you fight, you could

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end a long friendship and business partnership. If you agree, we all get to experience pleasure. Shared pleasure. I see it as win-win, as I’ve heard you both say.” The men stared at her, and she could see thoughts swirling in their heads. Turning to look at one another, they seemed to speak without words, and then they looked back at her. Ciprian spoke first. “Not here. If we do this, it won’t be inside the club. We go to my house.” “Get ready to go. We’ll finish up business on the other side.” Parker nodded, kissed her cheek, and they both walked from the room. **** Violet walked outside the club, Parker’s car keys in her trembling hand. She inhaled as she slid into his Mercedes, the rich scent of leather and virile male tackling her nose. Waiting on his arrival, she tried to make sure none of the employees leaving saw her as they slipped out, dipping lower into the bucket seat each time the back door opened. But she watched intently as Ciprian left through the back door. He looked in the direction of Parker’s car and saluted, even though she was positive he couldn’t see her in the dark. Ciprian got into his Land Rover, gunning the engine once the machine roared to life, and he then drove out of the parking lot. A few moments later, Parker stepped from the club and then walked toward his vehicle, opening the door and sliding inside. It was a cool evening, and she was wrapped in a light jacket she had found in the dressing room, but it wasn’t enough. She trembled. The coolness—or anticipation, she wasn’t sure which—made her shiver. Parker turned the key, and the car came to life, an array of lights flashing all over the instrument panel. She had been so tired the night before, she hadn’t checked out the taxi she’d sat in, as it seemed to look just like the ones she had used when she’d been alive. This

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monster had all kinds of lights and buttons, and her fingers itched to push one, just to see what would happen. He leaned down after turning the heat on low and pressed another button. Within seconds, she felt a low heat soaking into her backside and moaned in delight. She snuggled against the warming sensation that seeped through her. Parker leaned back for a moment and looked at her. He reached out and grasped one of her hands. “You’re cold.” It wasn’t a question, but fact, and he began to warm her fingers between his large, hot ones, rubbing them seductively. Dropping the first, he captured the other, heating it as well. “Thank you.” Her voice caught as she spoke the last word. “You’re sure this is what you want?” “Surer than anything else in my life.” The instrument panel sidelit his face, and she really couldn’t see his eyes to know he was completely ready for what she was asking of them. “Are you?” “No, I’m not. But I want you, Missy. That I do know for sure. And if this is what you want, I’m willing to give it to you.” “Parker, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” “I didn’t say I didn’t want to do it. I just don’t know where this will go after tonight. What I do know is one night isn’t going to be enough.” “Then we do it again. And again. Until we are satisfied.” “And if Ciprian wants the same? We can’t both be in a relationship with you.” “Says who?” “Well…says…well…everyone.” He frowned at her, frustration heavy in his voice. “I’ve seen all kinds of relationships in my lifetime. It’s what you make of it. We don’t have to fit in everyone else’s pigeonhole.” “If it were only that easy,” he sighed. “But I think we need to get through tonight before we start talking about tomorrow.” Parker

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released her hand and shifted the vehicle into gear, rolling the car out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. Silence filled the car, except for the roar of the high-performance engine. That quiet was thick enough to taste, and Violet was scared to say anything that might have Parker reconsidering their plans. She looked out the window at other cars, buildings reaching for the sky, and the night sky above. Violet frowned. So few stars were overhead. Where had they gone? How could one wish upon a star in a place where there were no stars to hang your dreams across?

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Chapter Eleven Ciprian lit the last candle and looked around his bedroom. He hadn’t been this cheesy since college, thinking he would use the ambiance to squirrel a pretty little coed in between his sheets. He’d learned a lot in the years since, and candles and romance were no longer his style. But for Missy, it just seemed right. Perhaps it was just the major case of nerves he had. No woman had ever asked for him to share her with another man, let alone his best friend, and it was throwing him off guard. Pressure situations could lead to performance issues. Not that he had ever had problems in that arena, but he hadn’t fucked a woman while someone watched either. As much as he was nervous, he was equally turned on. Missy was making him step up his game, putting him in unnerving situations, and testing out new waters. Something told him that a sexual relationship with this woman would never bore him. Not like most of the others did. Ciprian had not had a lengthy relationship with a woman in his entire life. School and career had been his priorities. At least those had been his excuses. Missy had thrown a sledgehammer through his structured life and made him stand up and take notice. Her mutual attraction to Parker threw him. Yeah, the guy was handsome enough and had done well with the ladies in the past. He was as successful as Ciprian, and he was a financial whiz, but Parker was so much different than he was. The two men were opposite ends of the spectrum. But perhaps that’s why she wanted them both. Yin and yang, they would balance each other out.

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Parker seemed as interested in Missy as he felt himself. What happened after tonight? Was this Missy’s way of deciding which man she wanted? Whoever performed better got to keep her? Ciprian ran his hand over his face, the whole situation throwing him for a loop. No matter what Missy said, he didn’t share well, and least of all the comforts of a woman he was really interested in. A car door slamming shut outside caught his attention, and he moved down the plush carpet of his stairs and opened the front door. As soon as he caught sight of Missy, his cock stood up and paid attention, thickening immediately and tenting his pants. She noticed as she moved closer up the walk, and a sly smile crossed her very kissable lips. “Nice to know someone is happy to see me.” He leaned down to kiss her as she crossed the threshold. Once she passed, he looked up into the eyes of his best friend. Parker was as wary as he was about the night ahead, and it showed in the creases around his eyes and the wrinkle of his brow. Ciprian stepped back to let him in and closed the door to the evening chill. All three moved into the living room and stared at each other as if they had no idea what they should be doing. He certainly didn’t, and he shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Would either of you like something to drink?” “Yes, please. Scotch. Double, neat,” Parker croaked out. His best friend was not a big drinker, and Ciprian almost had to chuckle at the little show of nerves. At least he wasn’t the only one. “Anything for you, Missy?” he asked as he walked over to pour his and Parker’s drinks. “No. I’m good.” She walked around his living room, looking over his framed pictures, her light jacket still on. He watched her intently as he tipped the bottles and nearly spilled Bourbon all over the counter. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Ciprian was without game. To be on the other side of the situation, to be seduced, it was a whole new world to him.

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Handing the drink to his buddy, Ciprian then moved to the fireplace and clicked the remote on the gas logs, the light and warmth filling the low-lit room. He leaned against the mantel, taking in the view of both of them, not sure how to proceed. If any of the women he had entertained in this house saw him now, they would probably laugh. “So, have you guys changed your mind?” Missy stepped into the center of the room and eyed them both. Ciprian watched Parker nod his head no, and followed suit. “Good, because I was getting worried.” She opened her coat and dropped it off her shoulders, exposing that she wore only a black corset and gartered, black silk stockings. Her black stilettos twisted, and she gave them both a view of her rear, devoid of panties. Red tresses were pulled high on her head, exposing the creamy expanse of back above the black lace, and Ciprian felt his cock grow impossibly harder. Fisting his hands beside him, he fought the wave of need, his personality not used to a woman driving a sexual situation. But had it not been for her aggressiveness, he wasn’t sure how long it would have taken him to start the night. Parker rose from his seat, dropping his empty glass on a coffee table as he stood, the lonely ice cubes twinkling melodically against the side. As Ciprian rounded the couch, his friend dropped to his knees before her, pressing his face into the vee of her legs. Ciprian’s cock jerked violently as he watched the act, and he suddenly realized that he was more turned on by what he saw than he expected. Moving behind Missy, he pressed against her back, grabbing her throat in one hand and pulling her chin back to expose the long column of white skin at her throat. Ciprian lowered his head, running his tongue from the hollow of her throat to the back of her ear, his other hand sliding over her shoulder to capture a breast in his palm.

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Tipping her head to the side, he seized her lips in his, bruising her mouth with his need while pumping the full globe and pinching the nipple. He wandered from her face, kissing a trail along her chin, nibbling again on her throat. From his vantage point, he could look down and watch as Parker’s tongue swiped at her swollen clit, his thumbs holding her mons open for his assault. Missy writhed between them, her soft, mewling moans music to Ciprian’s ears. He pressed down the edge of her corset, allowing her full breasts to pop out, and he greedily molded them in his hands, continuing to eye his friend eating her pussy. Parker’s eyes lifted, looking up to view Missy’s response, and he saw Ciprian gazing at what he was doing. He pressed his face closer into her cunt, making her moan deeply. His clothing suddenly too much, Ciprian leaned back a second to pull his shirt over his head and then released his belt, dropping his pants and boxer briefs to the floor. Ciprian’s cock shot up straight, aimed at Missy’s plump behind. “Parker, I think we need to get her upstairs.” **** Missy could have screamed at the loss of Parker’s hot mouth from her pussy, having been stopped twice already from pleasure throughout the night. But when Ciprian gathered her in his arms and began the ascent up the stairs to his bedroom, she could have sighed from his over-the-top masculine behavior. Laying her out like a feast on his bed, Ciprian settled between her splayed legs, leaning in to feast on her swollen pussy. A few wellplaced swipes along her folds, and she was in heaven again. Parker materialized, nude, at her side and began to kiss her, with more softness and passion than the bruising strokes Ciprian had made. She wasn’t complaining, Violet liked the difference in styles they both had. She had the best of both worlds in bed with her.

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Ciprian inserted a long, thick finger into her pussy as he licked a hot trail along her slit, and pumped his finger within her, emulating the dance she hoped she would finally have tonight. Her body twisted, the need and desire swirling within her, tensing her muscles as it demanded more from them. Violet snaked a hand to the back of Parker’s head and pulled him to her breast, silently begging him for his touch. As Ciprian sucked her clit between her teeth and pulled tightly, he added a second finger, heightening her pleasure. The elusive crest began to present itself, and she knew her orgasm was moments away. Their combined touches, coupled with the intense need she felt, threw her over the edge, and she cried out when her orgasm hit. Still reeling from one orgasm, the second built behind it quickly, and as Ciprian pressed a finger slowly into her ass, she exploded, the blood rushing through her ears deafening her. Sucking in air, she could barely breathe as she felt jostled around, ending up on Parker’s lap. His thick cock nestled inside the folds of her pussy, his hips undulating under her. Ciprian threw Parker a small packet, and she arched above him, tweaking her own nipples as she watched the rubber roll down and sheath his dick. As soon as he was covered, she rose on her knees while Parker guided the bulbous head to her opening. Sitting down on a sigh, she moaned as she slid down his cock, the stretching pull of his shaft a delightful burn within her channel. His strong hands grasped her hips as she slowly took his full length, and he began to move below her. Parker’s thrusts rubbed her just the right way, the heat from his cock creating the wonderful friction she needed. Violet suddenly realized Ciprian was not touching her, and she turned to find him. Stroking his hard cock in an enormous hand, he watched as she fucked Parker, a thin bead of cum trailing from the tip. His whole body was coiled power, the heavy veins along his muscles tight and protruding as he held himself back, getting pleasure from being the voyeur.

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His eyes glowed by the light of the many candles lit inside the room, the flickering light casting shadows along the walls. Violet’s need grew as she locked his gaze with her own, the need to perform for him in a new way overpowering her. Lifting from Parker’s lap, she reversed, moving so she still straddled his hips, but could face Ciprian at the back of the room. Violet raised her hands to her breasts, squeezing the weights, and then brought the nipples close to her mouth. Her tongue peeked out and swiped the hardened points as Parker picked up his rhythm, pounding into her cunt in a punishing beat. At that point, apparently Ciprian had had enough of being the observer and was ready to join them, sliding on a condom of his own before moving to the foot of the bed and closing the space between their bodies, his thick cock still in hand. Ciprian captured her lips in a punishing kiss, as if he were disciplining her for taunting him with her little act. She welcomed it, and more. Lifting her from Parker, Ciprian twisted her back in place, facing forward again. Parker quickly pressed back inside her as she felt the sting of Ciprian’s cock pressing into her ass. Violet felt her eyes roll back in her head at the intense blister of pain behind her as Ciprian stormed forward, passing the thick band of nerves with the thick head of his cock. Parker had stilled his motions, allowing her to relax into the tingling pleasure-pain Ciprian was driving within her. Tears stung the back of her eyes, his rough handling pushing her to the limits of her lust, but she accepted the new line he drew in the sand, loving the painful bite of his lovemaking. Ciprian truly was the hardness she needed to rage against, Parker the comfort she sought to equalize the equation. She looked down into Parker’s face, and he seemed to sense her struggle, lifting a hand to her cheek and comforting her. Turning in to his palm, she pressed a soft kiss into the rough, work-hewn flesh. He began to move within her again, surging inside as Ciprian pulled back.

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Lungs constricted, Violet turned to see the strings of her corset in Ciprian’s hands as he pulled her tighter into the garment. He reached forward, sliding his palm down one of her arms, capturing her wrist inside his hand. Tugging it back, he wrapped the corset strings around it and then secured the other wrist in the same manner, binding her hands behind her as both men pounded into her. Parker reached up and tweaked her nipples, pinching the hard nubs while Ciprian slid his fingers forward over her hips and captured her clit, stroking the engorged flesh. Violet had been pushed past her boundaries and then flung off the mountaintop. She felt Parker quicken inside her and begin to pump faster, and she knew his orgasm was not far off. At her rear, Ciprian followed the new rhythm, his cock surging inside her. As Parker groaned his completion, the tremors she felt pushed her off the edge as well. Ciprian followed suit a few pumps later, spilling his seed into the condom he wore. Both men eased carefully from her body, and they fell into the bed, her at the center of the heavy male weights around her. Moments later, she drifted off, her weakened, pleasure-sated body exhausted, and she felt as happy and safe as she had…ever. **** Violet awoke still encased in male flesh. Behind her, Ciprian had thrown a leg over hers, and his hard cock jutted into her hip. Her head rested on Parker’s arm, and he held the top half of her against him. She felt he had stirred to life in the lower forty-eight as well. Someone, in the course of the night, had removed her corset and stockings, and she breathed in a deep gulp of air, stretching slightly. Both men immediately began to stroke her body once they realized she was awake, and before she could even realize what was happening, condoms were on and both men pressed inside her pussy

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at once. The sting of having the double entry ripped through her, and she orgasmed immediately, her juices coating their cocks. The ebb and flow of their dicks within her, coupled with the sting of the pain, brought her to her pinnacle. A few short strokes later, the men joined her. A kiss was pressed to her shoulder, and she turned to smile at Ciprian. “Good morning.” His sleep-filled face was softer than she had ever seen it. And his sweet smile caught her off guard. “Good morning, sunshine. What a way to start the day.” Parker laughed. “I could stay in this bed for the rest of the day and keep doing that. Hell, I could stay here for a week and not have enough.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth and pressed his softening cock into her stomach. “Not like we have anywhere to go today. It’s Sunday. Coffee is in order, maybe some eggs, but then I vote for getting back into bed and finishing where we left off.” “Food sounds wonderful.” Parker slowly eased from her body and walked into Ciprian’s bathroom. A few moments later, he came out as Ciprian moved from her. Parker moved to the bed, a warm washcloth in his hand, and he eased the cloth over her pussy, cleaning between her legs. Moving to her rear, he gentled his motions as he gingerly swiped at her rear. “I’m sure you are sore there. Ciprian likes it rough.” “I like it rough, too,” Violet said on a sigh, the warm cloth delightful. Parker’s eyes moved quickly to her own. “I don’t like hurting a woman.” His face fell with his words, as if he were afraid he had been lacking sexually in some way. “You both complement each other. I wouldn’t want it to change. Ciprian pushed my limits, and you were there to catch me when I fell. You were perfect.”

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The smile that crossed Parker’s face snapped something in Violet’s chest. And at that moment, she realized she loved Parker. She loved both of them. After watching them renovate her forever home, and seeing the men they were, seeing their private sides that they didn’t let anyone else see, she had gotten to witness them in the flesh. Hardheaded Ciprian and Gentle Giant Parker. They had wormed their way into her heart. Shock flooded her. Who knew how much longer she had in this body? Missy was gunning for its return, and since Violet had no idea how she’d wrangled it in the first place, how the hell would she fight for it? And should she? Regardless of what Missy had done to this body, it was truly hers. But the thought of never again being able to lie between these two strong men, to never talk to them, touch them, to feel their heated stares on her as she performed on stage, it hurt too much to really register. Today could be the last one she would have in their arms. So she was going to make it count. **** With Missy curled up on his chest, Parker watched the moonlight filtering in through the window, the clouds crossing the sky rolling in shadows across her porcelain skin. He’d lost track of how many times and the many ways they had spent fucking the day away in Ciprian’s bed, her sighs of delight and completion food for his soul. Her resting on his chest, well, that just felt like the place she belonged. Looking across to Ciprian, Parker saw the tight grip on her hip, knowing that his friend felt as strongly about Missy after the last twenty-four hours. He’d seen it in the way Ciprian looked at her, touched her. She was in both of their bloods. And Parker wasn’t ready to give her up.

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Even though the past day had been amazing, it hadn’t been as weird as he had expected it to be to share her. But society as a whole didn’t accept relationships like this. They couldn’t continue in this way. “You keep wrinkling those sexy brows of yours, and they might freeze that way.” Parker gazed at Missy’s face and smiled at the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “That’s just an old wives’ tale.” “Perhaps. But what’s with all the frowning?” “A lot on my mind.” Parker sighed, trying to let all his concerns float away. He slid his fingers over her face, stroking the flawless skin in her cheek. “Nothing for you to be worrying over.” “Somehow I don’t believe that.” Missy leaned in and kissed his lips. Snuggling back into him, she drifted off to sleep, and he watched as the night slid over her face.

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Chapter Twelve Violet stood center stage, the spotlight blinding her, and roars of the assembled crowd deafening. The orchestra pit to her left was empty, the blank, wooden chairs holding sheet music and abandoned instruments, but she heard the sounds of a band tuning up. People in the audience began to come into focus as her eyes adjusted to the light. The first person to come into view made her knees weak. Tears bit the backs of her eyes as she saw the dainty figure of her mother standing just below her. Then, ambling behind her, an air of cigar smoke wafting around his head and shoulders, she saw Sal scuffle over and place his hand on her mom’s shoulder. On the other side of the room, Ciprian and Parker stood smiling up at her. Straight ahead, Max, Paul, Lydia, and Angelica sat in the guys’ booth. There were no other guests in the club, the roars she heard more likely the rush of her rapidly beating heart in her ears. Bright light flooded her face and stung her eyes, but she wasn’t sure if that wasn’t from her tears. Wetness dampened her cheeks. She squinted into the light, trying desperately to see those she loved once again. The illumination dropped slightly, and she could see again. Violet looked around the empty club. None of the people she cared about were there any longer, but she still heard the roaring in her ears. Two figures stood with their backs to the spotlight and began walking toward her. One had long red hair. The other held a gun before him. She screamed as the shot rang out. Pain lanced her body as the bullet entered her chest, and she felt her knees give out below her. As

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she fell to the floor, she saw the deep-red blood blossoming from her chest. Looking up, she saw the feral glare of her killer. Glenn Arianno. Hadn’t he hurt her enough? She looked deeply at his face, not remembering him. This man who killed her, who supposedly stalked her, was a complete stranger. The only time she had even seen his face before now was on the cover of one of the newspapers Sal had left lying around. How could she not remember this face, this sick, demented face, if he had been watching her for weeks or even months? As she fell back on the center of the stage lying in a pool of her own blood, the two of them moved up the stairs and stood on either side of her. “You could’ve had it all. I could’ve made you happy.” Glenn stared down at her. “Happy? She doesn’t deserve to be happy.” Missy kicked her in the ribs with her heeled toe. “I want my body back, bitch.” “No, she doesn’t deserve to be happy. If I had known then that she was this much of a whore, fucking two men at once, I would have found a better girl, one who wasn’t such a slut. I wasted so much time loving you.” With that, Glenn lowered his pistol and aimed for her head. “It’s time you went to hell, you two-bit whore.” His finger squeezed the trigger, and she screamed as she watched the bullet bear down on her in slow motion. “Wake up, Missy. Wake up. Baby, it’s okay. You’re dreaming.” A male voice urged her to open her eyes, but she was scared to. There was so much blood, so much pain. Violet awoke with a start, flinging her arms out and punching at both men as she fought to see the line between dream and reality. As she calmed, she saw both Ciprian and Parker on their knees beside her as she sat on the bed, tangled in the soft sheets. Wide-eyed, she felt her body trembling all over, the remembered glower in Glenn’s eyes enough to haunt her dreams forevermore. She looked down at her

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chest, her fingers already there, looking for the bullet wound, and she found nothing. Violet had not known her killer in life, had never spoken to him. But one night before she was about to go onstage, she’d been shot. It had come out of nowhere, and slip-boom-bang, she was a specter, doomed to walk the halls of the burlesque for eternity. She’d no idea why she was stuck in limbo, either. There was no unfinished business that she was aware of. The way she’d even known what was going on regarding her death was listening in to the friends she had left behind at the club and hearing them recount the tales. There was a lot of speculation at first regarding a potential relationship between her and her killer. Things like that didn’t happen, not without some kind of provocation. Psychopaths were a new breed in those days, and every media source felt the need to pick her tale apart, adding in spots when they couldn’t find truth. The crazy rumors abounded for months, and then after a time, she was forgotten about. Sal never forgot. Violet had been heartbroken to see him weeping late into the night, after all the police and reporters had left for the night. Curmudgeonly old Sal, he’d found her body just outside his office. He was the one who had witnessed Glenn put the muzzle of the gun to his head and pull the trigger. He was the one who had called the cops after the initial shock had worn off at what he had seen. Aching to soothe his grief, she’d wanted so desperately to wrap her arms around him, to comfort him and let him know she was there and that there hadn’t been much pain. And then the phone call she didn’t want to witness happened, and her heart broke all over again. Sal, ever the responsible sort, had felt the need to call her mother, instead of letting a police officer who’d never met Violet do the deed. Watching as his aging fingers trembled, Violet held her breath as he struggled to get the rotary wheel to work. She heard her mother’s shrieks, the denial, the pain too much for both women. Violet had walked from the room, unable to hear any more of

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Sal’s soothing words, spoken as tears streamed down his face. The screams of repudiation had done her in, and she wished that she’d seen her mother one more time. After that day, Sal withered away, the club slowly crumbling around him. Burlesque had already been a dying art, and Sal died along with it. The locks placed on the doors had been like a knife to the heart. Violet had mourned his death more so than she would ever have mourned her own father’s. With the renovations to the club, yesterday was today again. Its new life had brought new life to her as well, spiritually and physically. But like all good things, eventually, they would come to an end. **** Violet sat in front of the mirror in Missy’s dressing room brushing through the red hairs on her head, her eyes drifting off into another world. Her mind was still in Ciprian’s bed. And she wished her body was too. The previous day had been the best she had ever experienced, before or after her death. Well, all except for that damned nightmare. She had the unnerving sense that time was running out for her. The gnawing feeling that the end was in sight made her stomach turn. The burning sting of tears made her look at herself in the mirror. Fate had stepped in and given her a second chance, but for what? She’d made a start at fixing the ills of the woman who had previously inhabited this body, but it wasn’t enough. There hadn’t been enough time. And what about the connection she felt for Ciprian and Parker? Leaving them would hurt, especially if Missy took back over and used their emotions against them. “Hey, V!” Violet squealed and dropped the brush from her fingers as Lydia raced into the mirror before her. Bringing a hand to her chest, she

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gulped air in the attempt to calm her nerves. “You can’t sneak up on me like that, Lydia!” “Sorry, but I’m here to warn you. I’ve been checking out a dark presence that I have felt the last day or so.” “The guys said as much. What is it?” Goose bumps skittered across Violet’s arm. “I think it is the soul of your murderer.” What? Killing me wasn’t bad enough? Trying to keep her cool, she picked the brush from her lap and began to stroke through the red hair once more, visions of her nightmare slipping past her mind’s eye. “Why do you think that?” “I overheard Ciprian and Parker in their office. They found a box full of old clippings in a storage spot in the office, and inside were news clippings about your death. They said your killer’s name was Glenn.” Lydia tried to raise an eyebrow, but the boot mark across her face made it look more comical than sulky. “Missy has been communicating with this other entity. I eavesdropped on their conversation just a few minutes ago. I couldn’t hear much, mostly Missy bitching that you had her body, but she called the spirit Glenn.” “There could be more than one Glenn.” The sick feeling in Violet’s stomach churned in double time, her brain and body not believing the words coming from her mouth. “Yeah, but suddenly you get a body and your spirit reemerges into the land of the living. The same day, we feel a negative spirit in the building that has the same name as your murderer, and you think it’s another Glenn? Come on, has being in Missy’s body started doing things to your brain?” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest, trying again for the eyebrow raise. “Don’t you think that if he had enough anger to kill you that his spirit would be royally pissed off if you came back to life?” Violet sat staring at Lydia, the brush clenched in a fist at her lap as she watched her ghostly friend in the mirror. Anger suddenly flooded her, anger over the fact that he had stolen her life once and then

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thought to take it again. “Gather the troops. I’m not going down as easily as I did the first time.”

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Chapter Thirteen Ciprian looked over the packed house, the excitement coursing through the room making him feel jumpy. Or perhaps it was the chance to see Missy strut herself up onstage again. He didn’t think he would ever get enough of her. The sudden attraction he felt for her was still unnerving, even more so after spending a day in bed with her and Parker, loving her every which way but Sunday. Few women could accept the taste of pain he liked with his sex, but she’d taken it and then some. He had been completely spent, mind, body, and soul, when their time was over, and he hadn’t wanted to leave the room. Especially after she woke screaming. Her fear had brought out that damned protective instinct yet again, and he’d wanted to slay her dragons for her. But she’d been mum as to what the dreams had been about, or what problems she had that caused them. He assumed it was a reaction to her going cold turkey off the drugs, but she’d shown no other symptoms of withdrawal. Actually, it was kind of odd that she hadn’t been sick or begging for a hit. There were so many unanswered questions with the woman, number one being why the hell he suddenly cared so much. Number two was even harder. How was he ever going to share her with Parker? He loved Parker like a brother, but with his aggressive nature, no way would he be able to continue to let him in their bed. Ciprian’s need to claim her, mark her as his own, was great, but he couldn’t lose a friendship over it.

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Looking over at his friend, he saw Parker standing at the edge of the bar. They’d had to relinquish their booth yet again, but were happy to, considering they were filled to capacity and had a line outside the length of the building. Parker must have felt his eyes, as he turned and nodded to Ciprian, a smug smile on his face. Both men were over the moon to have this kind of business in such a short time. Word was spreading like wildfire about the hot redheaded performer, and she’d even been featured in an article in the Life section of the Sunday paper, the hot photo attached to it perfect for bringing in the masses. The lights dipped, the club darkening as the stagehands prepped to spotlight the woman they had all come there to see. Notes of music began to swell, timing together into chords as the beginning of her song came to life with the horn section. Light burst forth, a heavy click of the illumination echoing just under the tune. A rumble of applause spread through the room as Missy appeared center stage, a glorious smile etched into her face. Light danced around her, shimmering off the silver sequins coating her dress. As the beginning lyrics of Etta James’s “At Last” rolled off her lips, Ciprian sucked in a breath. Her eyes found his in the crowd, and he felt rooted to the spot. Her eyes banked right, and she looked at Parker. Jealousy flooded him, but as soon as he felt the emotion roiling in his gut, she turned back to him, and all was forgotten. He was lost in her eyes, her words, her emotions. The honeyed words of the song drew him in, her voice skittering over his skin and sinking into him. Husky notes down low were felt in his cock, the organ lengthening at the purely sensual nature of her performance. She only stood center stage, slightly swaying to the music, but it was all she needed. All he needed, as well. Missy was signing her heart out to the two men she cared for, and it was heard in every syllable.

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Parker’s glazed-over look said it all. He looked as though he felt the entrapment of her woven spell and wasn’t fighting it either. They were both doomed. The last words were sung, and she bowed low, and then smiled at the crowd as she stood. Ciprian was sure he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and a sense of fear whipped through him. Was that happiness or sadness that brought them to her? As she left the stage abruptly, Ciprian stalked quickly through the crowd to the swinging door, fighting Parker to be the first man to enter. They both ran down the hallway to her dressing room and whipped open the door. She wasn’t there. Frantic, Ciprian moved right, pointing to the other side of the backstage area to Parker, who nodded his understanding. What the hell is wrong? **** Violet slipped into the small door beside the stage area that led to the old Prohibition drinking room that Sal had built back in 1920. Not many people knew it existed, as it wasn’t on any official plans for the building, so it was the perfect spot for a showdown with Missy. She had already instructed Lydia to tell Missy she would meet her down there, and she had moved a dressing mirror and a small emergency lantern down a few minutes before she performed. That gave her at least a half hour to confront Missy and get more info on Glenn. The performance had been a killer, emotionally speaking. If something bad went down, that had been her farewell to the two men who had shown her more love in a couple of days than she’d felt most of her whole life. It was way too little to show her appreciation to them, but considering the situation, she gave what she had. “What was that shit upstairs? The longing looks, the cheesy song? You’re absolutely killin’ my rep!”

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Violet twisted, seeing Missy standing before her, without the need for a mirror. “Yep, that’s right, bitch. I’m smarter than the average ghost. I have this whole haunting thing down. A whole lot of anger over you stealing my body helped, I’m sure.” Missy began to circle Violet, her words dripping with antagonism, and Missy struck out, hitting Violet in the back, the sensation felt completely. “Did you really think you could win?” **** Parker felt dread racing through him the longer it took to find Missy. They had enlisted two of the bouncers to help in the search, keeping an eye out inside and at the front of the building. She was nowhere backstage or in the club, nor in the alley, the front, or any of the dressing rooms. Ciprian had checked the kitchens, their office, and the roof. It was like she had disappeared. Was she running back to her old life? The drugs, the snark, the hatefulness? He refused to let go of the woman she was becoming, and would fight for her. The glistening of tears onstage, the rushed good-bye, they had been curious, but as soon as she left the stage, a sense of impending doom had washed over him. And it apparently had Ciprian as well, as they both had rushed to find her. Together, they’d searched the building from top to bottom, and she just wasn’t there. Even though it was near to impossible for her to have slipped out the front unnoticed, she couldn’t have left the back without the motion detectors going off. But the security system hadn’t been touched since it was armed just prior to opening for the night. Parker ran through the darkened backstage area once more, digging through the thick velvet curtains, wondering if she had found safe haven in their folds. A scraping noise hit his ears to his left, and

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he turned. An old door swung slowly on rusty hinges that had to have been frozen shut with time. The wood opened as if an unseen hand spread it wide. Tremors ran down Parker’s spine, and he yelled for Ciprian to follow. As soon as his friend was in eye view, he raced for the door and saw a set of stairs. “What the hell is that?” Ciprian looked down into the gloom, clicking the flashlight on in his hand, revealing a series of cobwebbed stairs. “I haven’t a clue. Nothing like this is on the blueprints, but it’s the only spot we haven’t searched in this building.” She’s down there. And needs your help. Parker wasn’t sure where that last thought came from, but the need to walk into the unknown was immense. Ciprian moved ahead of him, the narrow arc of light bouncing along the walls of the narrow stairwell, moving with Ciprian’s heavy footfalls. Parker followed close behind and hoped the old structure could handle their combined weight. Stairs squeaked and groaned, the sound echoing the further they descended. Another door lined the end of the stairs, and upon twisting the knob, they were brought into a small antechamber with three other doors set up in a compass pattern with the door they entered. Straight ahead, they saw a dim light coat the floor below the door, the luminescence reaching out and beckoning them. Bursting through the door, both Parker and Ciprian ran a few steps before coming to an abrupt stop. Two women stood before them, Missy and a shimmering doppelgänger version of Missy. Parker felt his mouth go dry as he stared at the sight. “What, no love for your diva?” The flickering spectral Missy spoke. “Can’t even dig up a ‘Hello, how are you?’ I can see I wasn’t missed.” Parker looked to the flesh-and-blood Missy and saw misery on her face. “No, they didn’t miss you because I was better at being you.”

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The ghostly form turned, angry at the statement. Bright light flared and filled the space, casting daylight on the dingy little room. Ghostly Missy filled up the room with her incandescence, and Parker squeezed his eyes shut to fend off the piercing shine. A hand before him, he peeked through fingers to attempt to see what was going on. Ciprian beside him did the same and began to slowly step forward. As they both inched forward, Parker realized the ghostly form had pressed her hands inside of the corporeal Missy, and the two appeared to be fighting each other. Ciprian rounded toward the opposite side of the women, his mouth hanging open. He probably looked exactly the same, wondering what the hell to do. Parker sensed Missy’s fear and reached forward, grabbing her shoulders. Attempting to pull her away from the shimmering figure, he realized too late that another ghostly form was pulled out of Missy’s body, but this one was a buxom blonde. The blonde’s face turned and captured his eyes. Va-Va Violet stood before him. Or rather it was the ghost of VaVa Violet. Releasing his hands in utter shock, the empty shell of a body he had been holding fell to the floor. As Violet’s and Missy’s specters continued to fight in midair, another presence shifted into the room, one that had the hairs on Parker’s neck standing on end. Something evil had just entered, and sickness turned in Parker’s stomach, making him pitch forward, hands on knees. As a shadowy form approached the fighting females, it absorbed some of the light, and Ciprian and Parker were able to lower their hands. The more it absorbed, the more a human shape took form. After a few seconds, a man emerged from the shadow, and he was pointing a gun at Violet, Missy backing away from her as if she had the plague. “So, we meet again,” the man said, and Parker instinctively knew it was Violet’s killer. Glenn Arianno stood before them and thrust so much malice into the space that Parker felt his strength weakening,

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and his soul felt heavy. The desire to escape, to run from the room, was as imperative as taking his next breath. He couldn’t leave Missy…Violet…to this crazed man…ghost… He had to do something. But what? How the hell do you contend with spectral beings that are completely intangible? He was so confused. Had Missy been Violet all this time? Did that account for the total one-eighty Missy had made? There were more questions flying into his brain with every passing second. His scattered thoughts didn’t help as he attempted to come up with something, anything, that would help in the situation, but he kept drawing a blank. Fisting his hands, he felt completely powerless over the situation before him. Across the room, Ciprian’s tight expression, taut body, and clenched hands told the same story. He felt as useless as Parker did. **** Ciprian watched the melee, unsure of what he could do to help. Neither woman was tangible, nor the monster aiming a gun at them both. Ciprian wasn’t even sure if Glenn’s ghostly form could do any real damage with the weapon, but he wasn’t ready to test the theory either. Keeping an eagle eye on Glenn, Ciprian moved closer to the two spirits, with no clue how to assist. A spark of light flooded the room as both women flew into Missy’s frame simultaneously. Her body rose from the floor and began to contort, as if they all watched her reflection in a fun house mirror. Twisting, Missy’s corporeal figure was the new battleground, and Ciprian raged. His body shook violently as he stood watching, knowing there was nothing he could do to help. The mass continued to shift, and all Ciprian could do was hold on to hope that Violet would win the war brewing inside.

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Out of the corner of his eye, he kept sights on Glenn, not knowing when the entity would pounce and potentially throw a monkey wrench into the whole mix. Missy’s body slowly began to take regular form, and it appeared that one woman had been victorious, but Ciprian saw no spirit released. One shot rang out, blood blossoming out through the material covering Missy’s chest. Ciprian watched helplessly as Parker dropped to his knees to catch her falling body. A deep roar filled the room, and Ciprian soon realized it came from his own mouth, the anger and helplessness finally finding a voice. Dropping to his knees before her, Ciprian felt the sting of tears behind his lids, unsure if it was from the futility he felt or the fear of losing Violet from their lives. Ghost or not, she had breathed new life into both him and Parker, and Ciprian was not ready to give her up just yet. “I told that bitch it wasn’t over yet.” Ciprian cast a glance over his shoulder at the door leading out, stunned to see Sun standing there with the smoking gun. “Now, I’m done with her.” Ciprian would later not recall standing and storming the man, but he knew in his subconscious that Sun had been the one thing tangible in the room that he could rage against. More bullets expelled, and Sun’s aim luckily missed its mark. Fists flew, and Ciprian let the anger he had felt scream through his hands, finally able to do something. Standing above Sun’s inert form, he looked at the battered man below. “Yeah, motherfucker, we’re done with you, too.” Returning to Missy…no, Violet…Ciprian realized he had fallen in love with…whatever, whoever she was. The thought of her leaving and never returning made his stomach swirl, regret for what had not been yet bitter on his tongue. As Ciprian moved closer to Missy’s body, he saw four spots of light form around it, the spots slowly enlarging into four more ghosts, two men and two women. Is the place infested with the things?

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The four spirits surrounded Missy’s body and began to glow. Glenn’s spirit pushed the glowing specters aside and ripped a hand into Missy’s body, straight through the spot the bullet had torn through her. “I’ve waited far too long for her to leave limbo. I will not let you keep her from me.” Glenn rose up above the body, removing his hand as a dark spirit flew out of Missy’s chest through the wound. Ciprian could not see which woman it was, as it had no form and no shape, and as large as it was, perhaps it was both women. A shape finally materialized, and Ciprian thought he saw blonde hairs. “She is finally mine.” Glenn swiftly flew over and captured it, his eyes glowing red. “Your whore is mine forever now.” Inhuman screams bounced off the walls as a hole tore open in the floor, fire curling up from the center. Hues of red and orange glittered along the walls, the reflections wafting as the winds moved the flames below. Ciprian felt like he would gag, the deep smell of sulfur coating over him and forcing into his nose. Glenn inhaled the black mass before him, bringing the spirit of the woman with him. Ciprian jumped at the ghost, his hand slipping right through Glenn’s leg. “You idiot. Do you really think you can harm me?” With that, Glenn jumped into the abyss, taking the mist-like spirit with him. The floorboards reknit behind him as if the bowels of hell had not just been ripped open for all to see. Ciprian looked at the floor for long moments, unsure of all he had just seen and heard, wondering if all of this was just a bad dream. Looking over at Parker, Ciprian saw the woman they had both fallen for dying in his arms, the spectral visions that had flanked her now gone. The red stain had grown larger, and he knew it was time to call the police. Sun had begun to stir, so Ciprian moved to restrain him, pulling out his cell phone as he walked over to the dealer. After the call was made, Ciprian lowered himself to Sun, pressing a knee to the center of the man’s back. Casting another glance toward

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Missy—Violet—he felt his chest tighten. He had to keep it together. She was gone. The light she’d brought was gone with her. “This fucking hurts.” Ciprian’s head whipped up as he heard a scratchy voice coming from Missy’s body. “Damn it, this fucking hurts like hell. Is someone going to do something? Help me! I’m fucking dying.” Ciprian swept his gaze up to Parker’s, the sudden urge to retch swirling in his gut. They had lost Violet. And now they would have to contend with Missy.

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Chapter Fourteen Parker stood beside Missy, his thoughts a miasma of confusion. The woman resting in the hospital bed below him was not the woman he’d fallen for, not the woman he and Ciprian had spent hours making love to. That woman had been no woman at all. A ghost? Ciprian’s words spoken just days ago in their office that the ghost of Va-Va Violet was going to come after him replayed in his mind. Oh, she had. She’d come after both of them and taken a little piece of him with her when she left. He’d been in love with a ghost. A fucking ghost. But even as spectacular as that was, it made all the pieces of the puzzle fit. All the odd little items that they had been stumbling over in the past week now made sense. Although, making sense was rather subjective in this situation. But thinking back to all the oddities—the total change in personality, the cold turkey on the coke habit, the singing and dancing, the reason her performance was identical to a dead woman’s—now it all seemed so clear. She was the dead woman. He’d lusted over her when he found her sexily lounging across the poster under the floorboards, imagining what it would be like to have that kind of star in their club, one to turn the place around and bring in the bodies. They’d had her all along. And she’d done just that. He wanted her back, needed her back. Not because she put asses into seats, or because she helped develop the talent they had and made the club’s potential for profit realistic, but for the fact she’d changed their lives in such incredible ways. She shared her love so willingly

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with both him and Ciprian. The day spent in bed with her had been the best of his life. Now, it felt like a distant memory, as if it had happened a lifetime ago. Parker felt lost. Pale-skinned, Missy lay on the bed, deep, dark circles under her eyes as she rested, recovering from the near-fatal gunshot wound Sun had delivered her. At least that son of a bitch was behind bars, and he would likely be there for some time. Perhaps they would get some kind of reprieve and not have to worry about those assholes for a while. That the club would be safe for a while was enough of a relief. What the hell, the club will never be the same again. Violet breathed life into that place, and now she’s gone. Looking back to the bed, Parker shuddered, the pain lancing through his body over Violet’s loss immense. He’d fallen in love with her. Parker realized it then, now that she was gone from their lives forever. And now he felt like an empty shell. Dropping to the chair, he went limp as he watched the barely perceptible rise and fall of Missy’s chest. Ciprian walked into the room, flowers in hand, his eyes never leaving Missy’s face. “Has she come around?” “No. She’s barely moved in the last two hours.” “Well, she’ll open her eyes soon, and we can determine which one is still in there.” Parker jumped from the chair, anger pouring out of him. He’d not had the opportunity to thrash at something, to let his rage out, unlike Ciprian, and it had bottled up inside him until now. He knew Ciprian didn’t deserve his wrath, but he was powerless to stop it once it started flowing out. “You heard her as she lay on the floor. Don’t be a fucking idiot. We both know Violet is gone and the bitch is back.” “No, we don’t know that, Parker. She was shot. Who knows what might come out of someone’s mouth at that point. I’d cuss up a storm, too, if some fucker shot me.”

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“Don’t screw with my head. Don’t give me hope when there is none to be had. She died last night, Ciprian. She died, and we stood there powerless to stop it. I don’t think I want to go on without her.” “Parker, stop talking crazy. We don’t know—” “I know! I know that I didn’t save her. And neither did you.” “What the hell could we have done? Do you have any idea how I felt standing there paralyzed with no idea what to do to save her? Don’t you know I wanted to save her? I would have given my life to help her, but I was…useless. I wanted to save her.” Parker was shocked into silence by the grief in his friend’s words reflecting his own and the glitter of tears he saw coating Ciprian’s eyes. Ciprian never cried. Never. “We don’t know for sure, Parker. We don’t. I couldn’t tell which one of them Arianno took.” “He told us as much. He told us he had her. And you heard her hard words on the floor. Missy was hard. Violet was soft. She wouldn’t have spoken like that.” “Soft?” Both Parker and Ciprian swiveled to the bed after hearing the nearly whispered word. Parker blasted past Ciprian to kneel by the bed, hope swelling in his chest, even if vocally he claimed he knew Violet was gone. Missy’s eyes fluttered open, her sleepy gaze drifting over both men before her lids closed. She was still so pale, almost as white as the sheets that wrapped her body. “Who is soft?” “Don’t worry about who is or isn’t soft. You just need to rest and get stronger.” Ciprian sat on the other side of the bed, resting beside her tiny body, a glimmer of light shining in his eyes. Hope was an evil thing at times, Parker thought to himself. “I’ve been resting. And I’m not soft.” Missy’s eyes opened fractionally, as if she hadn’t the energy to completely open the lids.

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Parker felt his lungs burn after hearing the quiet words. Releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he’d held, he gulped in air, unsure if her comment had been the admission they both hoped for. But it couldn’t be. No way the demonic ghost of Glenn Arianno would have left with anyone but Violet. “I’m not soft…” Her eyes closed once more, and she fell into a deep sleep. **** Ciprian scratched at the two-day growth of beard on his cheek. He’d refused to leave her bedside after the words she’d last spoke, knowing any moment she would open her eyes and admit she truly was Violet. But two days later, Ciprian was no closer to the answers he desperately needed. His back hurt from sleeping in the chair, having refused the nurses’ demands that he leave once visiting hours were over. Technically, he was not family, but if Violet was inside, as he hoped, she’d been dead for three-quarters of a century, and he seriously doubted there was any close family left. The taste in his mouth was horrid. Smacking his lips together, he searched through the toiletry items a nurse had brought the day before. He sneaked out a clump of toothpaste and ran it around his mouth with a finger. It was better than nothing. The door opened to Missy’s—Violet’s—room, and Parker stuck his head into the gap. He looked almost as bad as Ciprian imagined he did. Parker hadn’t felt like fighting the nurses and had camped out on an uncomfortable-looking couch in the family waiting room a few doors down. “Nothing?” “Nope. Not a flutter, not a sound.” Ciprian’s shoulders sagged as he turned to look at her resting form once more. “She needs to come around soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

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Parker scrubbed a hand through his hair as he stretched. “It’ll be soon.” They spent the remainder of the day lounging about her private room, not able to stay in one spot for too long and trading turns for coffee runs. By late afternoon Ciprian thought he would bounce off the walls if he drank one more cup of java. He was going stir-crazy. “What if it is her, Ciprian?” He turned toward Parker, the question lying heavily, blanketing the room. Ciprian paused to consider his answer. “Then we love her for whatever time we have left with her.” “No doubts? No questions about how she came into Missy’s body? Why she came into our lives?” “Of course there are questions. But why sit here and let them fester while we can’t get any answers? She was meant to come into our lives. Fate, buddy, it was fate.” “Okay, fate. But ultimately, it was Missy’s body. Did she steal it? If she did, that’s akin to murder.” “Violet’s not a murderer. You and I both know that.” “But if she took her body, she took her life.” “Dude, shut up. She didn’t fucking kill Missy.” “No, I didn’t kill Missy. She did a great job of doing that herself.” Ciprian turned and looked into her eyes and immediately knew he’d been right after her quietly whispered admission. It wasn’t Missy. It was Violet. He fell limp over the side of the bed, his head dropping to the mattress and his hands reaching out to grasp hers as he openly wept, the tremors running through his body as he released all the tension and the stress of the past few days. He felt her gentle hand at his head, soothing him as he collected himself. As he looked up, he saw Parker sitting on the other side, tears leaking from his eyes. Scrubbing at his own, he was ashamed of the emotional outburst. He wasn’t a pussy, and crying was for pussies.

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Ciprian breathed in deep and calmed himself, focusing on the woman in the bed. “I knew it was you.” Ciprian felt the threat of another outburst and quickly stifled his emotions. Rising from the bed, he then stalked around the room, crazy energy sweeping through his body. **** Parker sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly embarrassed at his train of thought as she’d awoken. “I didn’t mean to say I thought you were a murderer. Just insane thoughts slipping through my head. This has been one wild ride. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. I struggled with it myself. But Missy OD’d in her dressing room, and I tried to help save her. When her soul ripped out violently, somehow, someway, I was sucked into her body. I have no idea how it happened or why. She killed herself with the white powder she sucked into her nose. I had no hand in it.” Parker nodded. It made sense, yet made no sense at all. Here he was speaking to a ghost. One he loved with all his heart. “How long will you be with us?” “I have no idea. I don’t know how I got here or why. I can only say I want to enjoy it for as long as it lasts. Glenn stole my life the first time, and he tried like hell to do it again. But this time around, I won.” “But you had no problem keeping her body and later fighting her for it?” Parker still struggled slightly with Missy’s death. “I believe she forfeited it the night she OD’d, and I had just as much claim to it as she did. She didn’t treat this body with the respect it deserved. She didn’t treat those around her with respect, either.” Violet captured Parker’s gaze. “Did you not want me back?” Parker lifted his eyes to her. “I wanted you back more than I wanted to breathe. And that made me feel guilty. Because I didn’t

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want you to be Missy. But just because I was selfish doesn’t make it right.” Violet lifted a hand to his face, moving it against him until she was cupping his cheek. Turning slightly, he pressed a warm kiss to her palm. Her warm body was full of life. “I wanted you back, and I didn’t care where Missy went, as long as I had you back.” Ciprian moved to sit beside her, resting his back against the pillows at her head, and held her close. “That makes two of us.” “But how did you end up in her body and her outside of it?” “Does it matter, Parker? She’s here.” Ciprian’s black mood was returning. “She was winning when the bullet hit. Missy had pushed me down as she fought me, so I wasn’t in the bullet’s path. So, it appears she died twice in this body. Leaving me to deal with the pain. At least the first time I was shot I didn’t survive because this hurts like hell.” “So, what do we do now?” Parker looked at them both. **** Violet looked out at both the men who had stolen her heart. They both looked like hell, dark circles, scratchy beards, and rumpled clothing, but they were the only things she truly wanted to see, no matter the packaging. She had survived. And they knew what she was and didn’t seem completely repelled by the fact she was a member of the nonliving. They weren’t running screaming out the door. “I would hope that we could keep on loving each other, for however many days we have left.” “But you could be gone tomorrow. Violet, you’re a ghost. How are we supposed to deal with that?” Parker sighed, the struggle going on in his brain evident with the wrinkling of his brow and lowering of his lids. “First you ask us to share you, and now, you aren’t even real.”

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Brushing a hand across his, she smiled. “Do I feel real? I don’t know how I got here, and no, I don’t know how long I have either. But I could say the same for you or Ciprian. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring.” “It’s—well, it’s just too much for me to handle right now.” Parker rose, and walked from the room, never looking behind him as he went, taking a piece of her heart with him. She had won the battle but apparently not the war. He couldn’t accept what she really was. Turning to Ciprian, she saw the unknown in his face. Devoid of emotion, devoid of reaction, he sat beside her, a blank slate. “Do you feel the same way?” Violet wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. “I’ve been focused on you just surviving this ordeal, not on what happened next. I don’t know how I feel.” Nausea roiled through her gut. She’d fought Missy because of them, to be with them. And now they weren’t sure they wanted her. Tears formed in her eyes as she looked away. Helluva second chance.

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Chapter Fifteen Violet sat at the table across from the stage as two of the dancers performed, her cane in one hand to help hold her up. She still hurt like hell, but being here, offering critique and suggestion, was better than lying in the spare bedroom at Ciprian’s house for one more minute. The girls could at least get some direction and help with their performances in her absence. Until she was ready to grace the stage once more, of course. That is, if the guys let her back onstage. She’d rested in the hospital for another week before being released. Both Parker and Ciprian had visited her every day, but they had held back. A wall was built up around them both, one she’d not had the strength to fight at that point in time. Violet missed the easy camaraderie they had begun to share before the shooting. Hope had flourished when Ciprian had offered her his home to recuperate in, but it had lost the luster when she’d been relegated to an extra bedroom. Away from his bed. Staring up at the white ceilings for two more weeks alone in her room had been nerve-racking, and she knew that she needed to come home to the club. Back to the one place she had known inside and out for the past seventy years. Yeah, Ciprian and Parker would probably be pissed off that she’d called a cab and come to work, but so what? She needed something to do, and there was plenty to do here. “No, no, Jessica. It isn’t a race. The slower and more seductively you move, the more anticipation you build. Anticipation gets their

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hearts racing. We sell seduction, not sex. Anyone can strip. Burlesque is an art. Start back from your second mark, and try again.” Jessica nodded and moved back to the spot. The sexy blonde had the most potential in the whole group, and she didn’t have an overinflated ego, either. Violet saw a little bit of herself in the perky, young blonde and knew she needed to push her the extra mile. The music started once more, and Jessica sauntered slowly across the stage to the steps, perfectly in rhythm to the tune, and exactly the way Violet wanted her to. “Now you’ve got it. Perfect. Keep going.” Violet continued to watch the stage, seeing the swinging door open up from the corner of her eye and Ciprian and Parker move into the audience. Pretending not to see them, she tried to ignore the hostile looks they were throwing her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead. Again. The two walked toward her, their anger a palpable current in the air. Parker nodded to the stage and the band. “Can you guys take a break? We need a moment alone with Missy.” Once the group moved away, Parker jumped right into the fray, his anger tangible. “You mind telling us what the hell you think you’re doing?” Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled up at Parker. “My job.” “And that’s more important than you getting better?” Well, he didn’t say I was fired. Point in my favor. “Ciprian, I couldn’t stay cooped up in your house one more minute. I’m not dancing. I’m sitting and giving direction.” “You shouldn’t be up and about, let alone downtown.” Dark brows angled down at her, Ciprian’s evil glare intending to scare her into submission. “It’s been nearly a month. My doctor said it was important for me to start moving around a bit. I need to start getting back to my life.”

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“Your life?” Parker snorted. “You mean Missy’s life.” Violet felt a stab of pain in her chest that had nothing to do with the bullet wound. “If you don’t want me here, just say the word.” Parker stared at her, a wave of emotion running across his face before it tightened up again with cold indifference. “That’s not what I said, Violet.” “Then what are you saying? I made a promise to both of you that I would teach classes, work harder, and help get the talent to the next level.” “That was a promise made to us to make up for mistakes Missy made. You aren’t responsible for fixing her problems.” “Ciprian, please lower your voice. I don’t want to have to explain to everyone in the club who I really am.” “I’d like it explained to me.” The raw anger directed at her from Parker hurt more than her wound. “Parker, all this time I thought Ciprian was the hard one. Never once did I expect you to be the one who would be this cruel.” Violet stood shakily with the help from her cane. “Let me drive you home.” Violet accepted Ciprian’s proffered elbow and inched slowly to the front door. Her energy sapped by the painful words, she could think of nothing else but staring up at the white ceiling in the spare bedroom at that moment. She just needed to be anywhere Parker couldn’t see her tears. **** Ciprian slammed back into the club’s door, more pissed off than he could ever remember. Sliding through the swinging door, he then stalked down the dark hallway, ripped open the office door. He was hoping like hell the object of his rage was sitting inside and ready for the beat down his fists were itching for. He was.

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“What the fuck was that shit about, Parker? I’m the asshole, not you.” “Get over it.” Parker waved Ciprian off with a nonchalant wave of his fingers, never allowing his eyes to leave the computer screen filled with spreadsheets he was poring over. “Get over it?” Ciprian wasn’t sure he had heard right. “We have the chance to have her back, and you keep pushing her away.” Parker sighed and swiveled in his chair, facing Ciprian. “How long will we have her? A day, a week, a month? What’s the point?” “Like she said weeks ago, there is no promise any of us has more than today. If you can’t see it for what it is, I’m sorry. You’ve already wasted a month.” “I’m not going to watch her die again. I can’t watch her die again.” Ciprian heard the anguish in Parker’s tone. “Fine. I have held back, knowing how you felt for her, waiting to see if you would come around. You’ve made your choice, so now I can make mine.” Fire raged within Parker’s eyes. “What do you mean by that?” “You may not be willing to love her, but I am.” “No, that’s not how it works.” Parker stood to his full height, shoulders raised in an aggressive stance. “Why not? You don’t want her. I do. She deserves one of us to love her through this second chance she has at life.” “I never said I didn’t want her.” Parker stepped closer, intensity bright in his eyes. “So you aren’t strong enough to love her. I am.” “Fuck. You.” Parker got right into Ciprian’s face, his chest puffed out in belligerence. “I’m stronger than you’ll ever be.” Ciprian smiled, knowing he was getting to his friend, exactly what he wanted to have happen. Parker needed a wake-up call, and bigtime. “What, Park? If you won’t have her, I can’t either? I’m not going to waste my time like you are, dumbass. I’m going to love her

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the right way, and now I won’t have to worry about you getting in my way.” Ciprian never saw the first fist fly, but as he reeled from the blow, he had the sense to block the second. Parker caught him off guard with an uppercut, knocking Ciprian off his feet. Ciprian slid across the hardwood floor as he fell, catching himself with one hand and holding off his best friend with the other. He knew that Parker needed to blow off some steam. And he could take his anger. At least he’d thought that he could. Ciprian hadn’t expected the amount of rage Parker had. Another fist flew into his gut, and he flipped Parker below him, pushing his face into the floor, Parker’s arms under him and away from striking range. Ciprian used the weight of his broader body to hold his friend down, waiting until the fight finally left him. Both he and Parker were breathing hard from their exertion, and as Ciprian moved, he hoped Parker truly was done. Parker moved to sit, resting back against the wall as he took several deep breaths. “I love her.” “I know. You needed to realize she was worth fighting for.” Ciprian jumped to his feet before dropping into his office chair. Parker had gotten in a few good shots, more than Ciprian had anticipated. His head reeled from the blows. He popped open his desk drawer, then grabbed a bottle of pain relievers and swiped out a couple of pills, swallowing them dry. “Now you need to go apologize to her.” “If she’ll let me.” “Won’t know until you try.” **** Violet lay across the big, fluffy bed in the borrowed bedroom, clicking the remote control on the television, although she didn’t see anything on the screen. The time she was conscious in the hospital,

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and the first few days of bed rest at Ciprian’s, had been spent watching what Parker called the “boob tube.” The pair had hefted a large flat-screen television into her room on the first day and pulled out a remote, then showed her how to work it. It had been rather comical, considering the amount of times she had shared time with the multiple owners of the club over the years, and the fact that clicking channels was one of the only movements she was able to manifest. She could couch potato with the best of them. What else is there for a ghost to do all eternity? But for some reason, after those few days of mind-numbing entertainment in the lonely bedroom, she had quickly grown bored with the little box. Now it was really all that she had to pass away the time, that or sleep. And when she slept, dreams of the night she spent in Ciprian’s bed with both of them drifted into her slumbering mind. She recalled every second, every touch, every lick, and she would grow uncomfortably hot, the need to touch herself, to recreate their strokes, would grow inside her until she finally succumbed, silencing her release into a pillow beside her. Her fingers were no match for theirs. Or their tongues. Their lips. Their mouths. Their hard cocks. The more she sat and drifted off into the never-never land of the serendipitous sex they had shared, the hotter she became. Heat swelled in her nipples, and she felt stirring in her pussy, the folds becoming wet with her desire. Reaching up, Violet caressed the firm weight of her breasts through her shirt and bra, squeezing the ripe flesh with trembling fingers, careful to avoid her wound. Her back arched off the bed, the top of her head pushing her upper body aloft from the mattress. She curved her bosom into her hungry hands, closing her eyes and imagining that Parker sucked at one breast while tempting the other. Part of her was angry that she still desired him so much after his angry words. But the well deep inside her knew he was rebelling against what she was, and hope still

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swelled that he would come around and she would know him again as he was. The loving, kind, and gentle lover she had seen in him. Tugging the shirt over her head, Violet then slid her fingers down her body to the snap of her jeans. Her cunt throbbed with her galloping heartbeat, and she needed to release it from its fabric imprisonment. As she pushed the denim down, she felt a yanking sensation from below. Eyes flying open, she saw Parker kneeling by the bed at her feet, slowly removing her pants. She’d never heard him come in, lost in the throes of her desire. The need in his eyes was overpowering. Yet, after his cruelty earlier that morning and the coldness over the past month, there was no way she could have him touch her. Not without an apology. And a promise. That he will love me as long as he can. Violet dragged the throw from the bottom of the bed to cover her nearly naked body from his sight. “Why are you here?” Parker looked down at his hands, still wrapped around her ankles, and he began to slowly stroke the soft skin of her inner calves in his rough palms. “I was scared. Hell, I’m still scared.” “Of me?” What had I ever done to him to frighten him? Well, I supposed that whole incident in the basement bar could scare off anyone. “Not of you. Of losing you. We came so close a few weeks ago.” “So better to push me away and not take advantage of the time we do have? Parker, that just doesn’t make any sense. For all we know, I could outlive both of you.” His eyes rose to hers. “What if you don’t?” “Even if I wasn’t a ghost, I couldn’t promise forever.” “My brain knows all that. It’s logical, and I understand it. We’ve had this conversation before, and I agree with you.” “But?” “But my heart. My heart couldn’t lose you. I love you, Violet.”

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The words were more than she could ever have hoped to hear. “I love you, too. Come here and hold me for as long as you can. Never let go.” Violet extended her hand, reaching out and hoping he wouldn’t turn and bolt. As he grasped her hand and climbed into the bed, she released the breath she was holding. Turning toward the door, she saw Ciprian and his smile. It was so rare to see it, but she hoped she would see it many more times in whatever future they had together. She continued to look into Ciprian’s blue gaze as Parker began to tug the blanket from her body. He lowered his lips lovingly to her healing wound, pressing a tender kiss to the center of her bandage. “Will this be okay? Are you able?” “The doctor said I was, as long as it wasn’t too rough.” A blush crept onto her face. She felt the heat as it blossomed. “You’ve never been shy with us, nowhere near it. What’s this about?” Parker chuckled as he kissed up her neck and onto her cheek, before capturing her mouth in a devastating kiss. “It’s really our first time.” “How do you figure that?” Parker asked. “The last time you thought I was someone else. Now, you know me for what and who I am. There is no more Missy, only me.” “It never was her.” Kisses trailed up her neck. “I was never attracted to Missy before you inhabited her. The first time was all you. Never her.” Ciprian chuckled. “I thought I was going nuts because I felt the same way. Suddenly this woman I despised was a sex goddess that made me fight to keep my hands off.” “Then why don’t you come on over here and put those hands on me?” The sudden need to have them both overwhelmed Violet. “No, I think I’ll let Parker have his moment.” A light filled Ciprian’s eyes as he stood a few feet away from the bed. She then knew that Ciprian’s voyeur streak was strong, and knowing he got off on watching her be satisfied ratcheted her need up a degree.

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Locked on his eyes, she saw the lust spread through Ciprian as he watched Parker gingerly remove her bra, releasing her swollen breasts from their lacy cage. Parker’s hands plumped the flesh, his mouth locking on a nipple and pulling it deep into his mouth. Ciprian’s pants tented, his cock straining to reach her, and he lowered a hand to it, stroking his dick through the material. Violet then realized she liked watching him as well. Seeing him touch himself heightened her desire, and she moaned aloud when he unzipped his pants and freed his cock. The thick hand and vein-lined forearm pumped the shaft as his other hand unbuttoned his dress shirt from the waist up, revealing his tightly packed abs that rippled as he thrust into his palm. His face shined from the light coating of sweat that appeared on his brow, and his lips parted as he began to breathe harder. Parker slid her panties down, the wetness coating them touching her inner thigh as they moved down. She was eager and ready for them both, hindered only by her body, still healing from the ordeal. But the need to reconnect with them both, to have them pound deep inside her, claim her body was great, to take her as Violet, not Missy. A hand swiped over her mons, sliding lower through the wetness of her pussy. Parker dropped to lie between her splayed legs, his tongue swiping at her entrance, a finger stroking her labia. Caught up in his attentions, she let her eyes drift closed, her head falling back as she fell back into the mattress, her head buffeted by the fluffy pillows. Opening her eyes, she sought out Ciprian, only to find he’d moved beside the bed, still stroking his cock. She reached out, pulling him to the bed, replacing Ciprian’s hand on his shaft. She pumped the flesh between her fingers, reveling in the feel of the supple skin covering the hard, engorged core. Violet realized then that she had to taste him. She swiped at the spongy, plum-shaped head with her tongue, swirling it around the tip that held a pearly drop of fluid. His taste was musky, manly, and completely Ciprian. Violet slid her tongue down

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the entire length and back up again, capturing him between her lips and sucking as much of him as she could into her mouth. Ciprian gathered her head in a hand, twisting his fingers into her tresses, holding her to him and thrusting his hips slowly. He set the pace he wanted, slowly moving his cock, the strangled groans coming from his chest music to her ears. Parker continued to taste her pussy, his fingers spreading her open, spearing into her cunt, her ass, readying her for their invasion. The scent and taste of Ciprian filled her attention, his thick cock pushing her mouth wide. She grasped his balls in her hands, carefully stroking the tender spot in time to the sucking. He threw back his head, his hands increasing the pace, urgency filling him. Parker moved up, capturing a nipple in his mouth as he pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance. Violet had to pause as she felt the long length of Parker slowly fill her pussy. Breathing around Ciprian’s cock, she let out a moan as Parker seated himself completely. Both men began to move, and she followed suit, swallowing another inch of Ciprian’s dick. The rhythmic thrusting of both men, coupled with Parker’s added stroking of her clit, pushed her toward the edge. Flying, she crested, her body arching off the bed as she felt wave after wave of her orgasm flood her body. Ciprian removed his cock from her mouth as her orgasm crested. One of the men carefully lifted her and moved below, her eyes still closed in her release. Delicately lowered, she felt the crest of one cock at her anus, pressing in gently, lubrication coming from the condom that coated the flesh. Hands rubbed along her rib cage as she kept her eyes squeezed shut, allowing her to focus on the sensation in her ass, the friction of a wet cock sliding into her tightness. As the cock was fully settled within her, she opened her eyes to see Ciprian moving before her, lifting her thighs to wrap around his waist as he navigated the head of his latex-covered cock to her ready cunt. He entered her slowly, his gaze locking on hers as he claimed

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her sex. Once both men were within her, she realized she felt safer in their arms than she had ever felt in her entire life, or afterlife, for that matter. She felt the tender care they offered, gently loving her. They accepted her for what she was, even though it had been a battle to open Parker’s eyes. But they were hers. Finally. She had the love she deserved. Violet knew that the only place she ever wanted to be was wrapped in their arms, safely ensconced away from the world, loved by these two men. Forever. However long that would be. She was grateful for whoever or whatever had granted her this second chance, and she was going to make the most of it. As they began a tender rhythm working within her body, their varied thrust and parry worked in tandem to bring her to the brink of another release. She yelled out her release for the universe to hear, realizing that heaven could truly be found on Earth, and that limbo had been worth it.

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Epilogue Violet brushed through her now-blonde hair as she stared into her dressing room mirror. It wasn’t quite the shade of blonde she’d had— it was more of a strawberry—but it helped her feel a little more like herself. The slightly shorter cut also made a difference. A little niggle of guilt flowed through her, as completely wiping away Missy’s existence seemed a little crass, but she reminded herself that the woman had not just died once by her own doing, but twice. But it was hard to look in the mirror every day and see another’s face. She checked out her makeup and then tugged on a bright red dress over the black corset and garters she wore. Parker particularly liked when she wore the sexy silk stockings, and it turned him on to no end when he saw her in the lacy lingerie. Two months after getting them back, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever get enough of her two men. Max and Paul flooded into the mirror as she zipped up her dress. She was so glad she was still able to see her friends in one way or another, but this wasn’t the first time they had appeared just after she was dressed. Violet was pretty certain they had been getting their fill before making their presence known. “How long have you two been standing there watching me?” She suppressed a giggle as she saw Max redden. Who knew ghosts could blush? “Never mind, I think I can see the answer to that in your faces.”

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“C’mon, luv, it’s no’ like we can do anythin’ ’bout it. Sneakin’ a peek is all we can do now.” Paul wiggled his eyebrows. “An’ wha’ a show ta peek at.” Max’s shade of red deepened further. “Yeah, who knew Missy’s body was that sexy? She always dressed like a tranny hooker, so I never really checked her out like that. You bring class to this joint.” “I suppose I should take the Peeping Tom act as a compliment, hmm? Well, forget about it, and stop sneaking a peek.” She crossed her arms and tapped her heeled toe for added emphasis. “And Max, how do you know what a tranny hooker looks like?” “The same way you probably know. Cable TV. Duh.” “V, you ain’ any fun since ya went back to tha land o’ tha livin’. We can jus’ check out tha bird in the nex’ room. Tha’ Jessica chippie is hot stuff, bay-bee.” Paul dragged Max behind him as they popped out of view. A knock at the door was followed by a quick peek inside. Ciprian’s head snuck into her dressing room before she had the chance to say “come in.” “You decent?” “Does it matter?” “I was rather hoping you weren’t.” He whipped out two dozen roses from behind his back as he walked into the room. “Late as usual.” She smiled at the deep red of the flowers and the fact Ciprian had been so thoughtful. “Yeah, they were Parker’s idea,” he added, as if he could read her thoughts. “Said it being your first night back onstage and all. Well, here.” He thrust the arrangement into her arms and gathered her close to his chest as he gave her a bruising kiss. “You’re absolutely sure you’re ready for this?” “Positively. I need this almost as much as I need to breathe.” “My little narcissist.”

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“You know it. But you’d better appreciate that in me. It allows me to get off on your voyeuristic tendencies.” “Voyeuristic tendencies?” “Oh, don’t act coy with me. You get off watching Parker touching me.” A blush to rival Max’s spread across Ciprian’s cheeks. “Okay, okay, yeah, you got me there. But it isn’t so much that I enjoy watching him touch you. I enjoy the look of lust that crosses your face, to see the satisfaction in your eyes, the groans of your desires.” Violet stepped closer and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Much more and she knew she wouldn’t make it out of her dressing room anytime soon, no matter how good that sounded. His ragged release of breath as she stepped away was a sign that he was holding tightly to his control as well. “I love you, Violet.” The admission caught her off guard. Having been sure of his feelings for so long, she’d come to the realization that he was the type of man who struggled to say things like that to a woman. Gathering him close once more, she smiled up to him, loving the twinkle of light in his blue eyes. “About time you admitted that. Took you long enough.” “I pour out my heart, and that’s all I get? I should have kept it to myself.” Ciprian tried hard to prevent the sly smile from crossing his face. “Not even.” She pressed another kiss to his lips, this one a little more forward, but not as hard as she would have liked it to be. “I love you, too, Ciprian. But I think you already knew that.” “I did.” Another deeper kiss had petals falling from her bouquet, hitting the tips of her open-toed stilettos. “Keep that up, and I won’t make it onstage tonight.” “And that’s a problem, why?” “It’s a problem because I think it would cause a riot out front if she didn’t return to the stage. Stop kissing my girlfriend.” Both she and Ciprian turned at the sound of Parker’s voice.

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“Plus, no fair keeping her captive back here. She’s on in two, and I wanted a chance to sneak a hug and kiss before she went out.” He reached in to pull her out of Ciprian’s arms and into his own, then planted his lips on hers. “Sorry I didn’t come back sooner. Word has spread about your return to the stage tonight, and the place is packed.” “Then I’d better not be late for my curtain call.” A quick peck on the lips, and she slipped from Parker’s grasp and headed down the long, dark hallway. As she stepped out onstage, she felt the energy zipping through the crowd and absorbed it. The lights burst on her, and the roar was deafening. Men jumped to their feet, their applause rippling like a wave through the club. And standing beside the swinging doors were the two men she loved more than anything else. She could give all this up, the stage, the performing, and the adulation. But no way was she giving them up. But for now, Violet was right where she belonged.

THE END WWW.ALEXANDRAOHURLEY.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Alex was born in the sticks of Maryland, but came to the Seven Cities of Hampton Roads, Virginia, at the tender age of seven. Being the new kid, she was shy, and books were her best friends. Fast forward several years…college, marriage, child, divorce, and then strings and strings (and strings) of dating Mr. Wrongs (and a couple of Mr. Rights along the way) all led to putting fingers to keyboard and living vicariously through her characters. Alex loves to ride roller coasters with her sixteen-year-old kiddo, eat sushi, watch lightning storms, ski (when not running into bushes), and dance to obnoxiously loud rock and roll when she can find the time between trying to finish yet another degree and work (ick!). Still living in Hampton Roads, she hopes to one day move to a Mediterranean island and lay poolside with a laptop as some scantilyclad, buff cabana boy fans her and feeds her grapes every day for the rest of her life.

Also by Alexandra O’Hurley Ménage and More: All’s Fair in Love and Lust

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

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