Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 (31 page)

The ensemble readied to perform the last set. Reception in the grand foyer would follow. The ensemble would clean up and prepare for dinner during the cocktail hour. The students were allowed to eat with the donors, so the donors would get an opportunity to understand what sponsorship meant for their artistic future.

I felt hot and tired from the performance. I grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the refreshment table and stood in a corner to get some air and cool down until it passed. After some time of feeling ill, I decided to go home. I scanned the backstage to alert Carson.

Matt’s voice startled me. “You were phenomenal,” he said. I turned to look at him, and his facial expression changed. He pounced on me, touching my head and feeling my neck again. He looked into my eyes, pulling down my lower lids.

“Matt, I’m fine. I just got a bit overheated and overwhelmed,” I assured. He held my skull. I pulled away to get more water.

“Did you eat today?”

“Yes. I told you I’m fine.”

Carson came up to us, “Matt, how are you? Didn’t our girl do wonderfully?” Matt ignored. “What’s wrong?” Carson asked when he assessed the non-verbal behaviors.

“I was just telling Matt I’m just a bit overwhelmed by everything. You know, my stage fright gets the best of me,” I added.

“Of course, stage fright. I remember you were always nervous before a performance.” Carson cut his eyes into me, wondering why he was lying for me.

“I’ll be fine.” I smiled. Soon, I gagged. Matt handed me a handkerchief. I took it, spitting into the soft cloth. The sensation passed. I took a smaller sip of water, clutching the fabric in my palms. “I feel better.”

“Perla, we have to get back on stage for the big finish. Are you able to do it?” Carson asked.

“Absolutely,” I said. Matt took the saliva laden silk handkerchief from me and cupped it in his hand. “I’m sorry I ruined your handkerchief,” I smiled. “I’ve got to get back to the students,” I finished.

Matt’s eyes scanned over my face, trying to diagnose something more than the jitters I claimed to have. I gave him a clipped smile and grabbed Carson’s hand. We walked away together.

“Stage fright? You’ve never had stage fright a day in your life. You love the spot light. What is going on?” I squeezed his hand.

“I’m pregnant.” I stood en pointe and gave him a kiss to soften the blow.

“What?”

“Please don’t make a scene, sweetie. He may still be looking at us,” I ordered. “You wanted the honest-Perla to start sharing before she gets in too deep. Well here she is. He doesn’t know. Other than Esmeralda, you’re the first to know. Now what the fuck do I do?” I scanned the room to find the students gathered by the exit doors.

“Calm down. We’re all here for you. But you need to tell him.”

“I need to resolve this triangle because it’s hurting all of us,” I whispered. Carson squeezed my hand. Our cue was given, and we all walked on stage for our final bows and introductions. For this one night, me and Carson fulfilled our dream of having our dance program. We held hands as we took our ovations with the other dance instructors and our future artists.

*****

While I prepared to sneak out of the Conservatory, Gill asked, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” I said quickly.

“Why?” He asked.

“I’m not up to partying.”

“Perla, people want to talk to you. You should hear the buzz. They’re already at the reception, talking about your solo. There are a lot of donors out there willing to write out big checks tonight, and if you’re not there to talk to them and answer their questions, we will lose money for the program.”

“I have nothing to wear.”

“Come as you are.”

“What?”

“You look flawless from head to toe. Just touch up your makeup, and come outside.”

“I’ve sweated all over this dress, Gill.”

“Go out there for now. Mingle at the reception. I will go to your place and find something for you to wear. Once I’m back you can change and enjoy the rest of the evening. We have a program during dinner, which you can’t miss,” I thought long and hard. Not wanting to disappoint Carson, I agreed. I gave him my key, and did as he suggested.

The walk to the reception area felt like I was walking to my death, but I felt at ease as soon as I saw the beautifully lit room, décor, and the people milling about the reception. Carson was right. I don’t particularly have a problem with being on stage or with large crowds of people. I’m a natural born performer, and I immediately put my face on. I saw the students congregating and I joined them, challenging them to go talk to the patrons about the program and what their hopes and goals are for the future.

Many people approached me and chatted about ballet, my experience with fan dancing, and how I decided to combine them. I was too shy to explain my history. Several men approached me as well, asking questions and slyly checking out my figure. I kindly excused myself when it was becoming glaringly obvious they only cared about one thing, and ballet wasn’t it.

A tap on the shoulder, alerted me to Brady’s presence, interrupting my discussion with a group of elderly women who gushed over the entire performance. Brady leaned in to hug me, and I felt trapped. I was hoping to avoid him all night.

“You were spectacular tonight. You haven’t missed a beat in all these years, Perla. Mom is here somewhere. She can’t wait to see you,” he reported.

I excused myself, reminding the ladies that the program looked forward to their financial contribution. They smiled with agreement. I returned to Brady who pulled me toward Maggie.

“You’re a natural at business, and you’re even better with charitable work. You’re absolutely perfect,” he complimented. The gleam in his eyes showed brighter than ever, and I felt gutted. It was time to be more forthright.

“Brady, I’m just who I am. You’re making me . . .”

“Brady,” A woman’s voice called out. “Brady Clay, how are you?” I turned to look at the voice which held so much enthusiasm.

My heart froze when I saw the beautiful blonde woman walking our way: impeccable makeup; her long hair looked glossy and perfectly straightened in place; the brightest white smile plastered on her face; and tall and lean in a silver, lace gown. Sonia Carrion-Keene was the last person I wanted to see.

“Sonia, how have you been?” He asked as he double kissed the air around both her cheeks. “Sonia, this is . . .”

“Perla Mercurio. The woman who has you and Matt fighting for her affection,” she said with a haughty laugh.

“I’m actually Dr. Keene’s wife. Brady is a family friend. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you. You are?” I extended my hand.

“I’m Matt’s first wife, Sonia,” she introduced. “I thought you hadn’t filed the marriage license, which still gives you a chance,” she said to Brady, placing her hand just so on his chest.

I was quite surprised by the ease with which she flirted with him, and he seemed at ease with her touch. I found it odd Brady would be so comfortable with his friend’s ex-wife. Sonia’s eyes ate him up. As an observer of human behavior, I could see the magnetism between them, and I hated the thoughts swimming in my cynical mind. By all appearances, Sonia is Brady’s type. Brady molded Aida to resemble the same image: blonde, thin, and vapid. Brigit was the epitome of the type. And I could see the appeal of Sonia: the beauty and social queen.

“It takes more than a piece of paper to be a doting wife,” I returned.

Sonia pursed her lips and scanned me from bottom to top, and narrowed her eyes. However, she left a sly smile at the corners. She perfected the social-bitch-face, emitting it on any given occasion.

A call from across the room distracted Brady, “You two play nice,” he said, giving me and Sonia an awkward private meeting.

“I hope you can make him happy,” she said with a tinge of derision.

“I have to thank you, Sonia,” I started. She looked intrigued.

“Why?” she inquired.

“Not every couple is meant to be. I appreciate you releasing Matt back into the dating world for me to find. It was perfect timing. I was ready for a really handsome, intelligent, and hardworking man to whisk me off my feet. Matt is definitely the man for me. If it weren’t for the end of your marriage, I wouldn’t have him,” I started to walk away.

“Until he gets bored with you. When the sex is no longer enough. When you’re fully clothed, sitting in a room with him, and you realize all you had was really, really good sex. There will always be an end for Matt. Don’t be surprised when he amps the sex to a level you can’t tolerate, and then leaves you longing for attention,” Sonia rattled off.

“Which is why he’s perfect for me. It’s never enough. It’s never rough enough or painful enough. Having so much more cushion allows me to take everything he has to give. But most of all, it’s never lacking in love or attention. Have a great night,” I gave her a huge smile, and walked off. I felt the blood rush to my head while I sought a familiar face to calm my anger. I saw Maggie, and I exhaled as I made my way to her.

Maggie stretched out her arms to receive me. “You were absolutely beautiful and flawless,” she complimented.

“I felt old and stiff,” I said.

“Honey, if you’re old and stiff, I’m practically mummified. Now where is that boyfriend of yours?” She asked.

“Actually, Maggie. I don’t know how much Brady has explained, but Matt’s technically my husband,” She looked shocked. I gave her a redacted explanation.

“Perla, whatever you do, don’t do anything to lead Shay on. I know my son can look strong, but his heart is more delicate than he lets on,” she offered.

“I don’t want to break Shay’s heart, but I have to follow my own. Anything I do to Brady is to protect him and Pentagon.” I said.

Maggie looked at me puzzled. Before I could add anything else, Brady approached us.

“Look who I found?” He said.

“Perlita,” my father’s gravelly voice sung in the air.

“Papi,” I cried like a school girl. “I didn’t think you could make it.”

“I changed my mind. Gill got me a car and I’m staying at the hotel across the street. He got me someone to help me around too.”

“Sit,” I ordered gently. He and Maggie hugged before we took a seat at Brady’s table. We spoke for a long while until Gill let me know I needed to change. I left my father with Maggie, and went backstage. On my way, I searched for Matt. The large room, filled with many people milling about in idle chatter and dancing to the light jazz music, provided too many distractions.

Gill brought my new orange gown and gold, strappy heels, including everything I needed for a good shower and refreshing my makeup. When I finished with my makeup, I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called out.

I saw Matt’s salt and pepper hair enter first. “We need to talk,” he said.

The dreaded words no human being wants to hear from a lover. “Okay,” I answered, turning around and sitting on the counter to listen.

He took a long pause, formulating his thoughts. “I’ve noticed some changes in you . . .” He started. I looked at him puzzled, crossing my arms to listen intently. “I have to ask you something, and I hope you tell me the absolute truth,” I remained silent, waiting for him to get to the point. “Do you know you’re pregnant?” He asked. My heart beat wildly.

“How did you find out?” I asked, fearing my privacy was somehow invaded.

“So it’s true,” he concluded.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I had your saliva tested. It’s not an accurate method, but enough to indicate pregnancy. Enough to approach you and ask for the truth. How far along are you?”

“About eight weeks.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Of course,” I walked up to him, and he backed away.”

“When were you planning to tell me?”

I didn’t answer.

“What exactly are we doing here?” He asked composed. I chalked it up to his concern for my health and safety for our baby.

“I found out this week. I confirmed it with an OB/GYN my sister works for. I planned on telling you, but I needed time to process everything.”

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

“Yes,”

“Really?” He asked incredulously. “Are you eating right? Are you taking vitamins? Are you getting enough sleep? Do you even care that you’re carrying my baby? Is it even my baby?” He asked in rapid fire succession.

“Yes, of course—to everything,” I answered, feeling dizzy with the brunt of his anger. I turned to sit, and he grabbed my arm to face him again.

“I asked you what we’re doing here. What game are you playing? I thought I’d give you some time to sort out your feelings. I didn’t want you to feel pressure, seeing as you were held captive by two obsessed people. But now you’ve been trying to keep my baby from me.”

“No. It was never the plan.”

“Then what is the plan? Are you trying to break me down, thinking I’d give in about Brady? Do you think you’re really capable of mind fucking me into submission? Perla, I love you, but I’m not that pussy whipped. This is my company. You are my wife. You’re carrying my baby,” he pointed to my stomach. “I want the license filed. If I don’t get the license, I am walking away from you. I will see to it the company is broken up. You’ll be out of a job. I will fight you tooth and nail for custody of my baby,” he said.