“You’re going to tell Lawrence. You’re going to go to him and tell him everything that happened—”
“Jackson—”
“I don’t care if it gets your little bitch girlfriend in trouble—”
“Jackson! Listen. I already did. I already called and told him what went on at the party. He’s going to ask Kristen to leave. She was going to leave anyway.”
Jackson stood and seethed. He wanted to throw in the towel on the whole thing—Firebird, the Townsend, all of it. He didn’t want Prosper to set one toe onstage with dancers who would even conceive of such evil plans. He looked over at her pallid face, her thin frame. Blake was right. She looked like death warmed over. Either he was going crazy, or she’d dropped five more pounds in the short time he’d been gone.
He looked back at Blake, mastering his temper. “Okay. I appreciate you getting her home and keeping an eye on her.”
“No problem. And I really didn’t have anything to do with it. I swear. You know I wouldn’t—There’s no way I could have—”
“Yeah, Blake. I know.”
Another moan from Prosper. “I’m thirsty again.”
“I’d better be going,” said Blake. Jackson showed him to the door on his way to get a bottle of water for Prosper. Blake took his arm before he left.
“Look, Jackson. You’ve got to let her go. I know you care about her, man, but you’ve made a world of trouble for her casting her in your ballet. She’s a wreck. She’s not star material; she’s just not. She has what it takes here”—he pointed to his feet—“but she doesn’t have it here.” He pointed to his head. “You should have left her back in the corps. I’m saying that as Prosper’s friend. And you know what else?” He looked at Jackson with reproach. “You should have kept your dick in your pants.”
“Nice speech,” said Jackson. He listened to Blake’s words, and some part of him knew Blake was right. But another part of him thought that if Blake didn’t stop talking, he’d choke the life out of him with his bare, shaking hands.
“Jackson…” came Prosper’s weak voice from the bedroom.
“See you, Blake,” said Jackson, shutting the door in his face.
Chapter Sixteen
Jackson took the water up to Prosper and propped her in his arms so she could drink it. She was so thin, so unhealthy. Blake was right. Taking her to the hospital, making her press charges against Kristen and her cronies, all of it would have made her suffer, and she’d suffered enough.
She’d suffered enough at his hands. When she fell asleep again and he was sure she wouldn’t fight him, he carried her upstairs to the other room. When she began to stir again, he brought her milk and crackers. She refused the milk, and he offered water. When she refused that too, Jackson knelt beside her and took her chin in his hands.
“You are sick. If you do not at least drink something, we’ll leave for the hospital in five minutes.”
“No. No hospital!”
“Then drink.” He held the milk to her lips, and when he was satisfied she’d had enough for the moment, he put it down on the side table. She seemed a little better. She was more alert, and her skin tone wasn’t so green. He took a deep breath. “Prosper, honey. Tell me what you remember about last night.”
“I don’t really remember anything. It’s hazy. Blake said they drugged me. I guess they wanted to rape me, but I was a little too pissed off for that.”
“Pissed off?”
“That I couldn’t hold my alcohol. I thought I was drunk. I know I kicked one guy in the nuts—”
“Yes, we already went over that. And I’m glad you did. He deserved it.” Jackson sighed. The look on her face killed him. He would have given anything to make it go away.
“They really do hate me.”
“Some of them hate you. Their problem. Not yours. I think it was Kristen’s attempt to send you running. We should go to the police, press charges.”
Prosper was already shaking her head. “No police. I just want—If they hate me that much—”
“No. You’re not quitting. Don’t even think about it. I thought the same thing, but if you do that, they win. No fucking way. No.”
“I’m supposed to go to work tomorrow and face them all?”
“Kristen will be gone. I talked to Lawrence while you were sleeping. Her contract with Townsend has already been terminated. But you’re not quitting. We’re going to turn this around, and we’re going to get you healthy again. Look at you. You look anorexic. Jesus Christ, Prosper.”
She turned away. “I’ve just been too nervous to eat. And too busy. And I’ve missed you.” Her eyes were tearing up. “Jackson, I can’t… I can’t…”
He ran soft fingertips across her cheek, wiped her tears away.
“I can’t survive without you,” she said. “I really don’t think I can.”
He gathered her up and squeezed her. “I know. I know how you feel.”
“When you leave, when you go back to Chicago… God… Jackson… I don’t know what I’m going to do—”
He buried his face in her hair and rocked her. “I’m not leaving you again, Prosper. We’ll figure something out. But I can’t leave you. Do you know why?” He turned her face up to his and looked down at his Firebird. “Listen to me. Do you know why I won’t leave you? Because I love you, you crazy, messed-up girl. I love you so much.”
She sniffled and looked up at him, her wide green eyes hopeful and terrified at once.
“You love me? You really do?”
“How could you doubt it? I’m not letting you go. Not now.” He twisted her hair in his hand, held her head against his chest. She was still shuddery and scared. He was too, for that matter, but at least finally she knew the truth.
“I love you too, Jackson. I’ve wanted to tell you for the longest time. I know that wasn’t the deal.”
He laughed. “The deal? Deals change. And there’s a new deal now. You stay in this room until you’re healthy again. Your body is my instrument. I want you to feed it and care for it. If you won’t do it for you, you’ll do it for me. If you lose one more pound, I’ll beat you black-and-blue. Do you understand me?”
She nodded with a smile. “Yes, Sir.”
“And we don’t play until your weight improves. You don’t come sleep in my bed again until you’re strong enough to survive what I want to do to you right now.”
Her eyes opened wide, pleading.
“I mean it. You’re to gain weight and get stronger first. If you want me, that’s what you have to do. Now eat some of these crackers. The milk too.”
She sighed, but she took the plate and glass from his hands. “Yes, Sir.”
Jackson stuck to his word, although it was painful. He wanted nothing more on earth than to touch her, take her. Beat her, lick her, sink between her legs. But he didn’t do any of that. He let her recuperate, and two days later, when they returned to the Townsend, she held her head high.
As he suspected, most of the dancers were sympathetic, their jealousy replaced by outrage at what Kristen had done. Whispers about Kristen’s sudden parting from the company were replaced by relief that she was gone. The void left by the departure of her negative energy was filled with excitement for the spring season to come. Kristen was replaced by Lynette, a talented soloist who was overjoyed to be promoted to the Tsarina role.
So going full steam into Firebird rehearsals, the company felt a sense of optimistic solidarity. The dancers worked together like a well-oiled machine. Blake and Prosper seemed to find a new closeness, a greater connection. And Jackson, secure in his feelings for her, felt no jealousy at all.