Chapter eighteen: Wrong name

Marcus had three expressions and Asha had learned all of them.

There was the default, the neutral mask he wore through most of his shifts. There was concerned, which showed up maybe twice a month. And then there was the third one, the one she'd only seen the night a man followed Destiny to her car and Marcus had handled it so quietly nobody talked about it afterward.

He was wearing the third one in her doorway.

She followed him down the corridor without asking questions. The bass from the main floor grew heavier with every step. She'd always found it grounding before, that low persistent thrum. Tonight it just reminded her that her heart was beating too fast.

She stopped at the curtain and looked out before stepping through.

He was at the far end of the bar. Average height, dark jacket, hands folded on the counter in front of a drink he hadn't touched. His eyes moved across the room in slow deliberate sweeps and something in her stomach pulled tight before she'd fully decided why.

She stepped through.

Marcus stayed close behind her. She kept her eyes forward and her hands loose at her sides and walked.

She stopped a few feet away. "I'm told you're looking for me."

"Asha Kincaid." Both names, no hesitation, in a place where she'd spent three years answering to something else entirely. Her stomach dropped.

"Who are you?"

"Doesn't matter." Pleasant voice. Easy manner. "I was asked to give you something."

He reached into his jacket slowly and placed an envelope on the bar between them. Plain white. Her name on the front in handwriting she didn't recognize, the letters neat and evenly spaced.

He left it there and didn't push it toward her.

"Who sent you?"

"Someone who thought you should have that." He glanced at his untouched drink, stood, and buttoned his jacket one button at a time. "Have a good night, Ms. Kincaid."

The door swung shut behind him.

Marcus went after him. Asha stayed at the bar and looked at the envelope.

She picked it up. Heavier than she expected. She turned it over. Nothing on the back. Just her name on the front.

She should wait. Open it somewhere private. She knew that.

She opened it anyway.

No note. Just a photograph. Two people. A man and a woman standing close, his hand at her waist, his face turned toward hers.

She recognized him before she was ready to.

The jaw. The dark hair. The way he took up space without seeming to try.

Kadence.

The woman beside him was beautiful. Polished in a way that looked effortless, the kind of woman who fit naturally into rooms like the ones Asha had only ever seen from the outside. His hand rested at her waist and his face was turned toward hers and the camera had caught him mid-moment, present and attentive in a way that made something in Asha's chest go very quiet.

She turned the photograph over.

One line. Same handwriting as the envelope.

*He already made his choice. Don't be her mistake.*

She stood there for a moment. Then she slid the photograph back into the envelope, folded it once, and put it in her back pocket.

Marcus appeared at her elbow. "Black car. Gone before I got outside."

"I'm on in fifteen," she said, and walked back through the curtain.

Jade looked up the second she came in and whatever she saw on Asha's face made her set her nails down without a word.

Asha sat on the bench. Stared at the floor. Then she got up, fixed her makeup in under two minutes, and when Jade said quietly "you're up" she was already moving toward the door.

The lights hit her the moment she stepped through the curtain. The crowd turned. The music started.

She danced.

Her hands were steady on the pole.

She made sure of it.