No, not a hospital. She was at a party. She saw the face of Kristen’s friend smiling at her, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he kept repeating as he tried to ease her dress up. But it wasn’t okay. She stood and pushed him away, nearly falling down in the process. She pulled the hem of her dress back down, and then she did stumble. Everyone laughed again, and that made her angry. Furious. Hands grabbed at her, but she hit them back and struggled to the door, pulling at the knob. Locked. Work the lock, Prosper. How does it work? Turn it.
Damn. Try the other way.
She concentrated, forced her fingers to work. She had it now. It was unlocked. She turned the knob, but Kristen’s friend tried again to pull her away. She turned and did the only thing she remembered to do in a situation like this. She brought her knee up with all her strength between his legs.
A groan, curse words, more laughter. Why wouldn’t they help her instead of standing around laughing? She turned back to the door, got it open, and lurched outside. It slammed behind her, locking again. Jesus, as if she’d go back in there. She leaned on the wall. The room was spinning. Good God, she was wasted. She looked up into a familiar face. What the hell was his name?
He was talking to her, but she couldn’t understand him. The music pounded in her ears. He seemed to be asking her questions. He was pointing at her legs, and Prosper looked down. God, where were her shoes and tights? She looked back up at him in confusion. He pushed past her and pounded on the door.
Oh, Blake. Blake was his name. He would get her tights for her. Her shoes, at least. It was way too cold to go barefoot. No way would she be able to put her tights on, though. She was too tired. Someone else would have to help her put her tights on.
Strong arms came around her, cradled her. Jackson was here for her at last. Jackson would help her. She buried her face in his neck and sighed in relief, breathed in the scent of him.
No, not Jackson. Blake.
God, she was fucked-up. She needed to go to bed.
Jackson got home just before noon. Prosper didn’t greet him; the house was quiet. He’d planned to surprise her, but she wasn’t here to be surprised. Out to lunch with a friend? No, her bag was on the counter. Still asleep? He knew she’d gone to a party the night before. He smiled and headed to the bedroom to wake her.
He pushed open the door. What he saw made his blood turn cold and his voice rise in a roar.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Prosper was asleep in his bed, and Blake was sprawled out beside her on top of the covers. At the sound of Jackson’s voice, he shot up, rubbing his eyes. Prosper jumped too, coming awake with a start. She took one bleary-eyed look at Jackson and ran to the bathroom with a hand pressed to her mouth.
Blake rolled off the other side of the bed, holding his arms out. “This is not what it looks like.”
“It better not fucking be what it looks like, because it looks like you were sleeping with Prosper in my fucking bed!”
“Something happened at the party last night.”
Jackson could hear the sound of Prosper being sick. He yelled at Blake on his way to the bathroom. “What? What happened at the party?”
“Prosper got sick. Someone drugged her. When I found her, she was half-undressed, but I don’t think they actually did anything—”
“You don’t think who did anything? What the fuck are you talking about?” He checked on Prosper, who was standing at the sink now, holding her head. God, she looked terrible. He tilted her head back and made her look at him, checking for color and alertness. She was alert but definitely green.
“Are you going to be sick again?”
“If you don’t let me lie back down, then probably yes.”
He wet a washcloth and slapped it on her forehead, then helped her back to the bed, where she curled up under the covers with a groan. He turned to Blake, who was still standing on the other side of the bed, and put his hands on his hips.
“Explain. All of it.”
Blake heaved a big sigh that almost made Jackson lose it. “Look, I don’t exactly know—”
“Explain everything, or I will beat you senseless.”
“Okay. I saw Prosper at the party. She was fine. About fifteen minutes later I saw her again, and she was nearly passed out, half-undressed—”
“Half-undressed? By who?”
“I’m pretty sure it was some guys Kristen invited.”
“Some guys?”
“Jackson, just calm down. Nothing happened; I’m sure of it. I checked.”
“You checked?” Jackson felt his blood pounding in his ears. “You checked her?”
“I checked with the guys in the room. She never actually passed out. They didn’t do anything. I think she kicked one of them in the crotch. He was pretty pissed about it. Nothing else happened, okay? I brought her back here, and then I was worried about leaving her alone with the drugs in her system, so I stayed. That’s it, the whole story. I didn’t want her dying in her sleep or something.”
“Why didn’t you take her to the hospital?”
“She said she didn’t want to go.”
“No hospital,” Prosper moaned, not even opening her eyes. “I just want to sleep.”
Jackson knelt beside the bed. “Prosper. Honey.” He stroked her cheek until her eyes cracked open and she focused on him. “What happened to you at the party? Do you remember?”
“Somebody… somebody took my shoes. Kristen’s friend.”
“Just took your shoes? That’s all he did?”
“He took my tights too. I kicked him in the nuts.”
“I told you,” said Blake. “They insisted nothing else happened. I chewed them out, and we left.”
“They insisted, and you just believed them? They drugged her! Did you call the police?”
“No police,” Prosper said in a weak voice from the bed.
Blake sighed. “I didn’t go to the police because—”
Jackson stood and spun on Blake. “Because it was your fucking friends! You didn’t want to get them in trouble! That bitch Kristen—”
“They weren’t my friends! It was some guys Kristen knew.”
“Somebody needs to pay for this!”
“At Prosper’s expense?”
Prosper clutched her head and groaned. Blake lowered his voice.
“You’re angry,” Blake said. “Yeah, I’m angry too. But parading her to the hospital and making her fill out police reports is the last thing she’s going to want to do!”
Jackson scowled at him. “And you just accept this? Dancers drugging other dancers, setting them up to be raped out of spite over a fucking part?”
“You don’t understand, in a small company like this, just how vicious the politics can be.”
“Politics? This isn’t politics; this is sociopathy!”
“Don’t yell at me, Jackson. Yeah, they drugged her. It was shitty and small-minded, and yeah, she almost got seriously hurt. I had no idea, and I sure as hell wasn’t in on it. I just wanted to get her someplace safe. And this is at least partly your fault! It’s your fault everyone hates her. And her health is shit. I can’t even partner her anymore without feeling like I’m going to break her. What the hell have you been doing to her? You’re wearing her down—”
“I haven’t even been in town!” No, he hadn’t been in town. He’d left her alone, left her to defend herself from the selfish narcissists who surrounded her. He pointed at Blake.