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Hustle Into Love

Prologue

The pretzels were stale, the whiskey watered down and the stools were too fucking hard.

Those were the biggest complaints the man at the bar heard from those sitting around him.  That and the fact the toilets didn’t work but half the night, and the girls who did the lap dances never let a guy cop a quick feel.  Unless you forked out another hundred bucks.  Then you could do a hell of a lot more than feel.

Turning away from the grinning, bleary-eyed fellow offering too much information, he shuddered.  He wasn’t in this run-down club for the drinks or pretzels—thank God—and he most assuredly wasn’t in it for the lap dances.  The man gazed around the decrepit bar thoughtfully.  And it sure as hell wasn’t for the ambiance.  This place was one step up from a pig sty.

The room was large enough, he mused.  But that was about all you could say for it.  If it had been cleaned this side of the millennium, he would have been surprised, and the smell wafting down the hallway from the bathrooms said his inebriated informer was right on the money about the toilets.

He could count the number of flickering light bulbs still working, but the darkness was probably a blessing.  That way you didn’t look too closely at the holes, grime and blood splatters on the walls.  He wrinkled his nose.  There were other stains as well.  Ones he chose not to think about.

Once, this club had probably been a huge success, filled with laughing couples and workers heading home from the office.  But that was before the freeway had torn through and stolen away all the foot traffic.  Now, this back alley club was more suited to drug deals and prostitutes.

But the room was packed, and apparently was so every night of the week.  And that was due to the reason he’d come to this dive in the first place.

“Ya wanna nother drink, honey?”

His attention turned back to the server.  She stood in front of him in a short black skirt and ultra tight white tank top, her obviously man-made breasts spilling out over the top.  She flipped back her dirt brown hair and looked bored.  “Ya got five more minutes of happy hour.”

He inclined his head in a short bow.  “Thank you.  No.”

The server narrowed her eyes at him.  “You Chinese or something?”

Carefully, he kept his emotions hidden.  The disparaging tone was nothing new.  “I am from Hong Kong.”

“Oh.”  She nodded knowledgably.  “Japanese.  Sure.  I could tell that.  Eyes are different.” 

“Is that right?”  He held on to his temper with an effort.  It was not the first time his nationality had been confused. 

“Hmmm…”  She took in his immaculate suit and well tended hands.  “You sure as hell don’t belong in this neighborhood.  Whatcha doing here, anyway?”

Crass and nosy, he thought to himself.  “I am here on business.”

“In this club?”  She gave a snort and hitched up her bra.  “You look more the type to be up at the Mirage or Caesar’s Palace.”  Her eyes took on a greedy shine.  “You looking for some action, honey?  I can sure help you with that.  Girls or drugs?  You want a threesome?  I got a friend.”

He took a deep breath, and his voice was cold when he answered.  “Madame, I am not looking for company, nor do I do drugs.  I do not want a drink.  I just wish to be left alone to watch the show.”

“Well…la tee dah!”  She grabbed the twenty he offered and stuffed it between her breasts not even offering change for his watered-down drink.  “I guess I know when I’m not wanted.”

As she stormed off, he only lifted an eyebrow.  “I guess you do.”

Shaking off the irritation he felt, he turned back to the stage.  The pole dancer was just finishing up, sliding down the shiny silver tube and landing gently on her plump ass.  Her thigh muscles quivered as she stretched back to her full height and swung one last time around the pole, her silver lame’ dress fluttering garishly.  Her empty eyes and jerky smile told the man any tips this dancer would get would go right up her nose.

“Let’s all give a round of applause for Debbie,” the announcer’s bored voice blared out over the music and shouts from the crowd.  “She loves having a pole between her legs.”  There was desultory laughter from the audience.

“And for our next performer—”

“Give us the girl!” the drunk next to the man screamed, almost falling off his bar stool in his exuberance.  “We want the girl.”

“We want the girl, we want the girl, we want the girl.” 

The whole room picked up the chant, growing so loud you couldn’t hear the PA anymore.  The man looked around, surprised.  He’d known she was popular, but were all these people here for the same reason he was?

The announcer tried a few more times, then shrugged and gave up.  Tipping his chair back, he nodded to someone backstage.  A moment later, the whole room went black.

There was complete silence as slowly, carefully, a pale spotlight appeared at center stage.  It hovered there, as empty as a sigh, and every man in the club held their collective breath.

A toe appeared, easing into the light, glistening nail polish shimmering in the spotlight. A whole foot, then a trim ankle, then a calf, knee and thigh.

The drunk next to the Asian groaned and for the first time the man had to agree with him.  That leg was groan-worthy.

It was all you could see for several long seconds, then, just as you were ready to scream from the tension, the spot’s circle expanded and she stepped into the light.

The man let out the breath he’d forgotten he was holding.  She was beautiful.  Long, white blonde hair flowed down around an oval face.  Her lips were full and shapely.  Her nose small and slightly tilted.  Golden skin announced she was no stranger to the sun and that same sun had kissed her cheeks with rosy health.

Her eyes were a sultry amber, unusual for her coloring, and wonderfully exotic.  Dark lashes fanned them and when she smiled, every man in the place came off his chair.

But she ignored the calls and shouts.  Instead, she clasped her hands together and held them for a moment as if in prayer, waiting for the noise to die down. She was all sweetness and light wrapped in one of the sexiest packages the man had ever seen. 

Then, as if she were doing a relaxing stretch, she ever so leisurely lifted her hands to the ceiling.  Once there, one hand stayed pointed high while the other moved with excruciating slowness, down the still taunt arm, around the back of her head, over one full breast and down her curvaceous body.  After a moment, the other arm just as slowly dropped and followed suit.

She was garbed in a feathery white robe and as she stretched and moved, slight glimpses of a truly gorgeous body could be seen.  But that was all.  The teasing peeks were only a foreshadow of what was to come.

A moment later she stopped, her legs slightly apart, her hands at her waist.  Then, with a smile that said I-know-something-you-don’t-know, she smoothed her hands over her breasts and with a dramatic flourish, tore the white robe off her body.

The men in the room went crazy, all shouting and hollering as if the girl was now stark naked.  But the man sitting on the bar stool blinked in surprise.

Instead of the g-string and pasties he’d expected, this dancer was sporting an outfit more like an ice skater would wear.  Transparent shoulders, back and belly, but over her breasts and pubic area, she wore a swirling strip of shimmering blue-white.  Tiny scarves of the same blue-white color caressed the top of her thighs and flirted over her buttocks.  It was sexy.  It was seductive.  But it was completely modest and somehow gave the girl the impression of absolute innocence and purity.

And then she started to dance.

 Like everyone else in the room he was mesmerized.  She wasn’t just good.  She was amazing.  The girl had one of those rare talents that could only be inborn.  She knew how to hold herself and what moves to make to show off that long, beautiful body in the best way.  Her flexibility was beyond measure, and she was a natural at showmanship.  It was obvious she’d choreographed the dance herself.  It fit her perfectly.

The lights danced with her as she hustled and swayed across the stage.  A small move here…a big flourish there and she had the audience eating out of her hand.  No one even tried to accost her.  They were all too enthralled with what they were seeing.

The performance ended as surprisingly as it started.  Instead of dancing off behind the curtains like the man expected her to do, she came forward, almost to the edge of the stage.  She struck a pose, the same one she’d done at the start, with clasped hands raised over her head.  The spotlight picked her up, and the room went dark again. 

It was as if she took the time to make eye contact with every person in the room, making each man feel like they were the only one she was dancing for.   And then she began to fade.  From the toes up, she somehow disappeared, every gorgeous line, every silky curve, until all that could be seen were her two ruby red lips. 

Then she blew everyone a kiss and was gone.

* * * * *

Ignoring the screams and shouts of her fans, Chantal Montgomery carefully creamed off the heavy stage makeup she wore.  It had been a decent evening.  The spotlight hadn’t faltered, and the music had been cued up correctly.  No one had tried to jump onstage, and she hadn’t been cornered by the club owner trying to force her into a date.  She’d been ready to punch him again if he even tried.

In her head, she added this night’s work to her savings.  A smile curved her lips.  Another few months and she’d have enough to leave this dive and look for a better venue.  She had plans and they didn’t include working in a place where most of the patrons expected her to do lap dances in addition to the ones she executed on stage.

She knew she had talent, but she also knew it would be up to her to make sure the world knew about it.  No talent scout was going to venture through the doors of the Pink Panda Dance Club to find her.

Yawning, Chantal stretched her tired body.  No matter where she performed, she always gave one hundred percent to her act.  President, prince or pervert, she really didn’t care.  It was the always the dance that counted.

“Hey there, girl.”  The sound of a woman’s smoker-husky voice made her jump.  “You got a visitor.”

Chantal rolled her eyes as she grabbed up a bottle of moisturizer.  “For God’s sake, Melanie.  You know I don’t see any of the audience after a show.  It’s…verboten.  Yeah…  That’s right.  Verboten.  My word of the day.  It means—”

“—forbidden…prohibited.”  A man’s musical voice made her go still.  “From the German, if I remember correctly.”

Whipping around defensively, Chantal could only blink.  Instead of the big, smelly, randy drunk she was expecting, she was confronted with a short, elegant man in a perfectly pressed gray suit, the cost of which, could have put her through college.

He was obviously Asian, very slender, with compact neat features and coal black hair which he wore slicked back on his head.  His tilted eyes were the same dark black as his hair, and he looked to be about a generation older than Chantal’s nineteen years.  After sketching a short bow, he smiled at her.  “My apologies if I startled you.”

Chantal shook her head in bemusement.  For some reason she couldn’t fathom, he made her want to smile back.  He definitely wasn’t like any of the other guys who’d tried to bully their way backstage.  No, this guy was a gentleman.  Any fears she may have had drifted away.  “No one gets back here after my act.  Melanie must have liked the look of you.”

“More likely,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “she liked the look of my wallet.”

Knowing how avaricious Melanie could be, Chantal snorted out a laugh.  “How much did it cost you?”

“I would have paid much more for a moment of your time.”

“Do tell.”  Chantal’s neck prickled in sudden concern.  “And just why did you bribe your way backstage?  What do you want, exactly?”

“I want you, Chantal Montgomery.”

“And here I was just beginning to like you.”  Disappointment filled her and she turned her back on him.  He’d seemed like a nice guy, but...  “Can you find your way out or do I need to call security?”

“No.  No.”  He held up his hands in a non-threatening manner.  “I am not being clear with you.  Forgive me.”

Wary now, she swiveled her chair back to face him.  “So be clear.  Why are you here?”

“I have a proposition for you, Ms. Montgomery.  I believe we can be of benefit to each other.”

“You can fancy up the word any way you like, but I’m still calling security.”

He looked briefly disconcerted.  Then his face cleared.  “Ahhh, you believe…  No, my dear, still you misunderstand me.  While I think you a very attractive and sexy young woman, that is not what I want from you.”  He glanced at her robe-clad body and shrugged politely.  “I am not interested in you in that way.”

“You’re not?”  Chantal eyed the older man with renewed interest as he shrugged again, almost apologetically.  The light dawned as his face took on a ruddy hue, and she found herself relaxing.  “Oh.  Got it.  Not interested.  Well, good.”

“May we start again, perhaps?”

Leaning back, she eyed him speculatively.  “Sure.  Now that my virtue is secure, I’m listening.  So what’s the proposition?”

In answer, he handed her a card.  Frowning, she took and read it.

~~Forever Young~~

If there is light in the soul, there will be beauty in the person

Lì Yeung

Her head snapped up.  “Forever Young?  You mean that cosmetic line?  You work for them?”

He smiled, obviously pleased.  “You know of us.  Good.  And it is a full body care line, not only cosmetics.  We use only the purest and most wholesome ingredients and make sure our products are completely natural.  We want women to experience a total difference in skin care when using our line.  We believe in being beautiful from the inside out.”

Chantal stared at him.  He sounded like one of the company’s brochures.  “All I know is it’s supposed to be the hottest thing ever to come out of Asia.  And it’s hideously expensive.”

“Unfortunately, that is so.” He nodded sadly.  “We are a new company and while we are receiving high praise for the products, we are still relatively unknown to the general public.  Once we get more customers we hope to be able to drop the cost so more women can benefit from it.”

“Okay, that’s all great, but what does it have to do with me?  If you’re looking for a spokesperson, you’ve come to the wrong place.  I don’t speak in public, I dance.  And I don’t think your clients would appreciate someone like me anyway.”

He beetled his brows at her.  “You will explain that remark.”

Chantal sighed.  “Look.”  She glanced down at the card.  “Lee, is it?”

“Lì, but Lee will do.”

She shrugged.  “Lì.  I’m no model, and I’m definitely from the wrong side of the Las Vegas strip.  The people you want to impress all stay at Caesar’s Palace, the Mirage or the Bellagio.  I’m more the Motel 6 type, if you know what I mean.  I don’t belong with your product.”

“What is this fascination you people have with Caesar’s and the Mirage,” Lì muttered.  “I do not care about this.  It makes no difference.”

Chantal didn’t know what he was grousing about, but he was too nice of a guy to lead him on.  She had to make him understand.  “Hey.  Thanks for the offer.  It’s really sweet of you to be interested in me, but I’m a dancer.  I don’t even want to be some spokesperson, even for a product that is supposed to be as wonderful as yours.  All I want to do is dance.”

“And that, my dear is just what I want to talk to you about.”

She only stared at him.  “Excuse me?”

He smiled again.  “I do not ever recall offering you the position of spokesperson, although it does have merit whether you think of yourself as the proper person or not.”

“Okay.”  Chantal rubbed her eyes.  “Now I’m really confused.”

“May I sit?  We can discuss my idea further.”

“Oh, my God.”  Chantal jumped to her feet and quickly cleared off the only other available seat in her tiny cluttered dressing room.  “I’m so sorry.  My mama raised me better than that.  I guess you distracted me.”

Lì sat gingerly on the hard seat.  “I take full responsibility.  I did surprise you.”

“Ummm…can I offer you a drink or something?  I’ve got—” she went red when she realized her choices in beverages were a bit limited, “—tap water or bottled water.”

He laughed.  “A bottle of water would be fine.”

She handed him a cold Evian out of the small refrigerator and grabbed one for herself.  Sitting back down, she looked at him, her eyebrows raised.  “You were saying?”

Lì smiled charmingly.  “I came here tonight for one purpose.  To see you dance.”

Chantal nodded.  “Well, I can’t see you coming for the club’s ambiance, even though it’s rockin’.”

He chuckled.  “Just so.  I admit this establishment is not one I would frequent.  But I know of others who do, and they thought I should take a look at you.”

Confused again, she shrugged.  “Why?”

“I am not just the owner of Forever Young—”

“Whoa,” she interrupted.  “You own the company?  Wow!”  Light dawned.  “Of course.  Yeung—Young.  Now I see it.”

“Yes.  It is only one of my ventures.  The newest one.  I have many—how do you say it?  Fingers in the pie?”  He smiled again.  “I also am involved with several clubs in Las Vegas, and I own a casino as well.”

Anticipation leapt up in her.  “You’re here to offer me a place dancing in one of your clubs?”

“Not exactly.”

Hope turned to dust at her feet.  “Then you’ve lost me.”

“I am assuming you do not wish to dance here at this Blushing Panda for the rest of your life?”

She swallowed a smile.  “Ummm.  That’s The Pink Panda, but no, I’m outta here as soon as I have enough in savings to give my notice.”

He raised a speculative eyebrow.  “And by the way you reacted to me invading your privacy, I believe you have had additional offers.  Unsavory ones?  Perhaps you could have added to those savings by doing other…dances.  Tax free?  Why did you not take those opportunities?”

She bristled like a porcupine.  “I’m not a whore.  I don’t sell my body.  Damn it, I’m a dancer.”

“Dancers also sell their bodies,” he responded mildly.  “But they do it in more respectable circumstances.  I can give you this chance.”

“Mr. Yeung.”  Chantal angrily got to her feet.  “If that’s the best you can come up with, you can take your proposition and leave.  I may not be the classiest woman in the world, but I am true to myself.  I told you, I’m no hooker, and I don’t dance the mattress rumba. The only dances I’ll ever do are ones that speak to my soul.  I’d rather go hungry than do otherwise.  And no one, not even some cosmetic millionaire is going to come in here and change that.”

“Bravo!”  Lì clapped his hands enthusiastically.  “I salute you, my dear.  That was just what I wanted to hear.”

Chantal’s fury drained out of her like water down a storm drain.  Only bewilderment was left.  “I don’t get you.  What is it you’re trying to say?  What do you want with me?”

“Allow me to explain myself fully.”  Lì motioned her back to her seat, and reluctantly, she sank into it.  “I have a story to tell you.”

“I’m listening.” 

“I am the first son of my father and as you may know, in China, the first son receives just about everything.  Fortune, status, honor and of course, the responsibility of family.”

“I watch National Geographic Channel.”

“My father was killed when I was in my teens.  He was lost in an airplane crash just outside of Hong Kong during a typhoon.”

“I’m sorry.”

He inclined his head.  “Thank you.  It is an old wound and well healed.  He left no other issue.  I was the only child of the union between him and my mother.  She grieved a long time, but then after five years fell in love again, this time with a foreigner.  She married him and moved to his country.  They had a son, my only brother.”

She waited.  What this had to do with her, Chantal didn’t know.

“Even though my mother lives, I am free from any responsibility for her.  She and my brother are well taken care of by her new husband.  I have no extended family, a rarity in my country, but neither of my parents had any siblings either.”

“Mr. Yeung.”  She tapped her foot impatiently.  “What does your family history have to do with me?”

Lì smiled.  “It is because of my family history I have come to you, my dear.  Because I have no family to consider, my money is mine to do with as I please.  And so, a few years ago I decided to begin a very special project.”

Chantal leaned forward curiously.  “Project?  What kind of project?”

“Something that feeds my soul as your dance does yours.  In short.  I give away money.”

She just stared at him.  Maybe he was a loony-tune after all.  “No.  Come on.  Seriously.  What kind of project?”

Lì laughed.  “I am very serious, and I am not talking about charities, although I do donate regularly to many.  No.  I wanted something more personal.  Something I could call my own.  So I put out—how do you say it?  Feelers?  And eventually I began gathering information about candidates for whom I could help make their dreams come true.”

Excitement stirred, but she ruthlessly tamped it down.  Not yet.  Not until she knew…  Clearing her throat, she asked, “Like?”

His eyes twinkled.  “A certain concert pianist that came from a very poor area in China.  He was given the best available mentor in Hong Kong and now plays to millions all over the world.  An African swimmer, whose only way to the Olympics was by training in another country.  She came home a hero with an Olympic gold metal around her neck.  And a Brazilian youth who wanted to be a doctor.  Paying his tuition at a top university gave him the start he needed.  As a medical researcher he studies rare cancers, and his findings earned him a Nobel prize nomination in medicine.”

She sat back, astonished.  “You?  You’ve helped all these people?”

“I am a wealthy man, Ms. Montgomery.  And I have no one to spend it on.  By doing this, I make my own family.  Do you understand?”

Her heart went out to him.  “You’re lonely.”

He blinked once then his cheeks reddened.  “I have never thought of it that way, exactly.  But…I suppose you are right.  Giving these people their chance in life makes me feel a little less alone.”

“Because in part, their success is yours.”

“You are a very wise woman for your tender years.”

Chantal shrugged again.  “Don’t know about that, but I’m street smart.  Enough to know what sounds too good to be true usually is.”

“You are also practical.”  Lì nodded approvingly.  “This too is important.”

“So let’s cut to the chase, and you tell me why I should believe all this.  What you want from me.”  Chantal had trouble keeping her voice even.  What was he leading up to?  Was he going to make all her dreams come true?

“I want you to dance.  Wait—” he held up a slim hand when she opened her mouth, “—allow me to finish.  I saw you tonight.  You have a wonderful gift, my dear.  You have something many dancers only dream of.  Raw talent.  So much raw talent it shows in every move…in every step you take.  You also have the drive and persistence to take your talent further.  You have worked hard and pushed yourself to be the best you can be.  And even more importantly, you have principles.  You have not taken the easy way out of this club.  You still have your honor and kept your heart and body pure.”

Her throat was so tight, she had trouble responding.  “Ahhh...”

“You have enough talent I could make a phone call right now and within minutes have you booked at some of the biggest clubs.  But that is not enough.”

She felt faint.  “It isn’t?”

“No.”  He chuckled at her unbelieving face.  “Tell me something, Ms. Montgomery.  What do you want for your career?”

Dare she tell him?  No one else understood the burning need she had to make something of herself.  No one ever comprehended the joy and satisfaction she received every time she went up on that stage and danced.  No one knew of the bone deep contentment she felt as her body soared along with her spirit.  It wasn’t about the money.  It never had been.  Dancing was as much a part of her as breathing was.

Without it she would surely die.

Which was why she was dancing at this two-bit club.  It might not be the Moulin Rouge, but even dancing in front of drunks and prostitutes fed her heart in a way she had never before been able to explain.

“Ms.  Montgomery?”

Chantal looked at the elegant man sitting in the paint chipped chair.  Maybe he was someone who would understand.  This perfect stranger who somehow knew her better than she did herself.  “I—” she took a deep breath and decided to trust her instincts, “—I don’t just want to dance.  And I don’t just want to be the best dancer there is.  I want to do it all.  Dance, choreograph, teach.  I want my name to be on everyone’s lips.  When they think of dance, they think Chantal.  I want to go all over the world.  I want to be able to dance where I want, when I want and how I want.  I don’t mind working for it, but I want it all.”

He smiled.  “You want to be a star.”

“No.”  She shook her head, and her chin went up proudly.  “I want to be a legend.”

There was a moment’s pause, then his eyes narrowed.  “I think I understand.  Like Josephine Baker.”

Her heart leapt at the mention of the celebrated dancer.  The life and career of the “Black Pearl” had been her inspiration and guide ever since Chantal had seen a black and white rendering of Baker performing her famous “Banana Dance” at the Folies Bergère in Paris.  Josephine Baker was one of the great pioneers of dance.  No matter what discipline you did, in part, you had her to thank for bringing the enjoyment of dance to millions.  And this man knew who she was.  Maybe he did understand.

“Yes.”  She gazed at him thoughtfully.  “My dancing’s a bit tamer than hers, but her life…how she fought for the right to dance her way.  The freedom of expression she had.  I want that for myself.”

“Then will you allow me to help you get it?”

Chantal swallowed hard.  “H-How?”

He leaned back, obviously satisfied with her response.  “I said before I could help you work at any club you wish, your talent is that great and my reach that far.  And, if after this conversation is over, you choose not to accept my proposition, I will still do that.  You deserve a better stage than this.”

She felt faint again.  Either way, Lì Yeung walking through that door would change her life.   “Thank you.”

“But, as I also said, I want to help you do more than dance.  I want to help make your dream come true.  And if your dream is to become a legend…a modern Josephine Baker, than that is what I’ll do.”

“Just like that?”  She shook her head, trying to clear it.  “You snap your fingers and boom, I’m a legend?”

He laughed.  “No.  But I will give you the tools to make it happen.  And as you said, it will take much hard work.  Success is always sweeter when you’ve worked for it.”

“My mama said that, too.”

Lì bowed his head.  “Another intelligent woman.”

“Well, this woman is smart to know when she’s being offered a chance of a lifetime.” Excitement ran through Chantal’s veins like liquid fire.  “But what’s the catch?  I know you aren’t just going to hand over a bazillion dollars and say good luck.”

“I will do with you as I did with the others.  You will give me a list.  A wish list I think you Americans call it.  This list will tell me all you believe you require to make your dream a reality.”

“And then?”

“I will go over the list.  Anything I do not understand or question, we will discuss.  I have advisors who will tell me if something is necessary or not.  Those same advisors will help me make sure you receive the best of everything once you and I have agreed on the plan for your future.”

She just stared at him.  “Are you for real?”

He laughed again.  “I am very real.  But there is one thing I would like to do different with you than I did with the others.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “And that is?”

His face took on a pink hue.  “I find your dream…interests me.  As do you.  More than the others I have helped in the past.  Once I set their finances up, I have bowed out of their lives.  I may see them once in a while, but we are not close.”

Sadness filled her heart.  What about the family he’d talked about creating earlier?  Where were his mother and his brother?  Did he know how alone he sounded?  How much he was crying out for companionship.  She’d thought she’d been lonely after her parents died, but this…

“If you would agree—and if you don’t, it will not affect me helping you in the future—I would like to look in on you from time to time.  See how you are doing.  Maybe take you to dinner so you can fill me in on your progress.”

“You want to…look in on your…investment,” she said slowly.  “Make sure it’s going okay.”

His dark eyes went bleak.  “If that is the way you see it, yes.”

There was no way she could walk away from the look on his face.  It would take a stronger woman that she was.  He was too genuine.  A real man with morals, scruples, and a loving, giving heart brighter than all the lights in Las Vegas.  A person she would like to get to know better.  She could always use another friend…or a big brother.  Besides, she was a sucker for lost puppies.  If she would have her dream, why not let him be a part of it?

So, she cleared her throat and prepared to step out on stage.  “I don’t think, so, Mr. Yeung.  I’ll take your money, but the rest of it?  Sorry, that’s not how I roll.”

Lì blinked in confusion and then, if possible, his eyes went even emptier.  “Ahhh, I see.”  He took a deep breath.  “Then I will await your list.  If I have any questions, Ms. Montgomery, I will contact—”

She grinned and shook her head. 

Puzzled, he blinked again.  “I—”

“I think you can call me Chantal,” she interrupted gently.  “Anyone giving me a gazillion dollars should be on a first name basis, don’t you think?”

He frowned, but nodded slowly.  “If that is your wish—”

“Or—” she reached out her hand and waited until he took it, “—you can call me Channy if you like.  You see, that’s what I like my close friends to call me.” 

He went very still.  “Close friends?” 

“Yep.”  She smiled and squeezed his hand.  “But I’ll have to change your conditions a little.  I don’t think I can manage a dinner now and them.”

“You can’t?”  Now he was looking thoroughly bewildered.

“No.  I figure anyone who has the guts to sit through as many acts as you had to do to get a seat to see me—” 

“Six,” he interrupted.  “I had to watch six other women who called themselves dancers.”

“See?  Just saying.  Someone who does that deserves a lot more than a measly dinner now and then.”  She winked at him.  “In fact, I think that person deserves to spend Thanksgiving and Fourth of July with me.”

There was another long silence, then understanding lit Lì’s dark eyes.  His lips curved in a joyous smile.  “I also had to drink the foulest bourbon I’ve ever tasted.”

She laughed and let her happiness overflow.  “Well, hell.  That means you’ll have to come for Christmas as well.”

“Are you sure, my dear?”  He looked briefly worried.  “I do not want to push in where I am not truly wanted.”

“Lì—” Chantal knelt and gave the slender man a hug, “—I only met you an hour ago and already I know you’re an amazing man. The things you’ve shared with me today about yourself?  You say my gift is rare and special?”  She eased back on her heels and shook her head.  “You should look in the mirror, mister.  You’ve got a gift, too.  Generosity of spirit?  Love of life?   Talk about rare?  You better believe I want your friendship.  You’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me.  I know a good thing when I see it.  Remember, you said I was intelligent.”

He chuckled and she saw him relax.  “So I did.”

“You just offered to make all my dreams come true, and you would have bowed out if your presence made me uncomfortable.  But honestly, right now, I can’t imagine wanting to share this with anyone else.”

His dark eyes were suspiciously moist.  “You humble me.”

“No.”  And this time her tone was serious.  “Your gift humbles me.  And I swear on everything I hold dear—and that now includes you—I’ll not squander this opportunity.  I’ll make you proud of me, Lì.  Just like a big brother is supposed to be.”

“A big brother,” he repeated, his voice breaking, “I have not had much practice with that.”

Picking up her bottle of Evian, she tapped it against his.  “Then give your baby brother a call and get to know him.  But I don’t mind being your guinea pig until then, if you don’t mind an artist’s temper.”

Lì laughed and there was excitement in the sound.  “Then we have a deal?”

“Deal!”

They shook hands again and then he chuckled.

“What?”

“May I come with you?”

Chantal cocked her head.  “With me where?”

“To give your notice.  You may need a bodyguard to help you get out when the patron’s riot.”

She looked at his slender figure.  “Unless you know karate, I think I’ll just phone it in.”

He nodded.  “Perhaps that is the best idea.  Then may I see you home?”

She’d known he was a gentleman.  “Sure.  Give me a few minutes to pack up.  Once I leave this dump…I mean job, I won’t be back.”

“Of course.”

Quickly, Chantal tossed all her belongings in the suitcase she carried to and from work.  Luckily, she didn’t have much.  Anything of value would be stolen if it was left in the club, so she’d learned long ago to take home what was important.

Finishing, she glanced around the room.  “I just need to change.”

“I will close your bag for you.”

Disappearing behind a stained screen, she pulled off the robe and put on her street clothes.  A thought struck her.  “I should have asked before, but with everything else it went out of my head.”

“Yes?”

She came around the edge of the divider.  “I know we’re both trusting each other here.  I’m trusting you to follow through with the finances, and you’re trusting me to use them correctly.”

“That is so.”

“And I know the friendship is an extra benny—” at his confused look, she shook her head, “—sorry, benefit.”

“That is most assuredly so.”  His exotic face creased into a smile.  “And most welcome.”

“Yeah.”  She melted a little.  He was so cute.  In an older sibling type of way.  “And it will be fun all the way around.  Hard work and all, but…”

“You have doubts?”

“No,” she said immediately.  “Not doubts, but a question.   Just what do you get out of all this?  Aside from the friendship, I mean.  I don’t want to hurt your feelings, so call me cynical, but what’s it going to cost me later?”

“I wondered if you would ask.” Lì gave a rueful shrug.  “Most asked before the deal was struck.”

“I’m not going back on my word.”  Chantal frowned.  “I promise.”

He patted her shoulder, then lifted her bag.  “I did not think you would.  The friendship you offered is apart from the deal we made. This I promise you.  And my answer is, what I will get is the joy of seeing your talent bloom and flourish.  That is one of the reasons I do what I do.”

“And the other?”  She frowned at him.  “What will it cost me?  I feel like I’m standing under the sword of Damocles here.”

Lì chuckled again.  “Nothing so dramatic, my dear.  The cost to you for my help is simple.  One day I will ask you for a favor.”

“That’s all?”  She blinked at him.  “You’re going to give me jillions of dollars and all you want is a favor?  What kind?”

“One only you can give.”

“I don’t understand.  What can only I give?”

“I do not know,” he answered, surprising her.  “I will know it when it happens.  And then, if it is within your power, you will grant that favor.  It is all I ask from you.”

She just stared at him.  “You are the most unusual man I’ve ever met.”

 “No, my dear.  What I am is fortunate.  Meeting you is a gift in itself.”

Chantal sniffed back tears.  Turning, she kissed Lì gently on the cheek.  “Now you’ve given me a new word for the day.  Two words actually.”

He lifted an inquiring brow.  “And what are those?”

She opened the door, and together they stepped into her brand new life. 

“My hero.”

END OF PROLOGUE

* Prologue * Chapter One * Chapter Two * Chapter Three * Chapter Four * Chapter Five *

* Chapter Six * Chapter Seven * Chapter Eight * Chapter Nine * Chapter Ten *

* Chapter Eleven * Chapter Twelve * Chapter Thirteen * Chapter Fourteen * Chapter Fifteen *

* Chapter Sixteen * Chapter Seventeen * Chapter Eighteen * Epilogue *