followed by a sinking feeling deep in his gut. The kind of feeling that made him want to punch something, preferably Tanner, if he’d slept with Mak.
Women fell at Tanner’s feet, always had. Not that Hudson was jealous. He did okay. But the thought of his Mak with anyone...not that she was his. Not any more. Not that she ever had been, really. His outburst that night five years ago had seen to that.
‘Mak did well.’ Keeping his voice steady with effort, Hudson pretended to study the call-back sheet. ‘How do you two know each other?’
Tanner laughed so loud it echoed around the club. ‘Man, you should see your face. You look like you’ve sucked a lemon.’
‘Fuck off,’ Hudson growled, that urge to thump Tanner growing by the minute.
‘I think a more pertinent question is how you know Mak?’ Tanner’s laughter petered to chuckles. ‘By your thunderous expression, I’m assuming you know her a hell of a lot better than me.’
‘You still haven’t answered my question, dickhead.’
Infuriatingly calm and determined to make him sweat, Tanner linked his fingers and stretched forward. ‘Makayla works at Le Miel with Abby. So when I filled in there while Remy was in hospital, I got to know her a bit then.’
‘Oh.’ Hudson deflated in relief, feeling like an idiot for allowing jealousy to cloud his judgement.
He had no right to be jealous of Mak. She could’ve slept with the entire north shore of Sydney and it still shouldn’t bother him. But it did. Deep down in that place where a part of him still missed her dreadfully, he cared. A whole damn lot.
‘If you call her Mak, you’ve known her longer than me?’ Tanner’s smirk didn’t hide his blatant curiosity.
Hudson could lie. But he didn’t bullshit Tanner. They’d been through too much together, from the time they were at Kings Cross High, two misfits without mothers, trying to do the best they could with asshole fathers.
‘Mak and I go way back,’ he said, rubbing the tension cramping his neck muscles. ‘When I was working the clubs at the Cross, our paths crossed constantly because her mum danced and waitressed there. We became friends.’
Tanner must’ve sensed the seriousness behind his declaration, because he stared straight ahead rather than grinning like an idiot. ‘How come you never mentioned her back then?’
Because Mak had been all his. The one bright spot in his lousy world. Someone he could confide in, someone who understood the daily battles of growing up in the Cross, because she faced them too.
But he didn’t say any of this to Tanner. Instead, Hudson shrugged. ‘I didn’t want you giving me shit. She’s younger than me and I wanted to protect her.’
‘A regular Sir Galahad,’ Tanner scoffed, the lame-ass grin returning. ‘What happened?’
‘We had a falling out.’ Massive understatement considering the blowout they’d had the night he’d stumbled upon her stripping. ‘Haven’t seen her in years.’
A speculative gleam made Tanner lean closer. ‘So you two haven’t...you know?’
‘No.’
Not that he hadn’t wanted to. But Mak had been off-limits due to her age—and her naivety, if he were completely honest. She’d radiated an innocence that shone bright in an otherwise grimy world. A world of pimps, prostitutes, drugs and strippers. A world he’d worked in out of necessity but had done his damnedest not to let taint him.
It was one of the many reasons he’d flipped out that night he’d seen her gyrating naked on stage.
That, and because of his mum.
‘Well, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, man. Makayla’s a bombshell and if I were single I’d take a shot at—’
‘Shut the fuck up.’
‘Whoa, easy, big fella.’ Tanner held up his hands. ‘Just giving my opinion. And if you overreact like that to a simple suggestion, I advise you to get laid, pronto.’
Hudson wouldn’t give his doofus friend the satisfaction of knowing he wasn’t far off the mark. What with getting this show off the ground, he hadn’t had time to date lately. In fact, it had to be at least three months since he’d had sex. Maybe that was the reason he’d wanted to bound onto the stage and drag Mak into the nearest dressing room when he’d first seen her up there ten minutes ago?
Yeah, like that was the only reason.
‘I need to organise call-backs so if you’ll excuse me I’ve got work to do.’ He brandished the clipboard at Tanner, who grinned as if he could see right through his feeble excuse.
‘Get laid, buddy. It takes the edge off.’ Tanner stood and clapped him on the back. ‘According to Abby, Mak hasn’t dated anyone in ages, so you two should get reacquainted.’
His glare was lost on Tanner as his friend sauntered away, lifting his hand in farewell. Damned if Tanner’s advice didn’t resonate.
He’d love to put the past behind and move forward with Mak. But how could he approach her as a friend, when she’d just nailed the lead dancer role in his show?
He might have found his leading lady but once he told her, it ensured they could never be anything but professional.
Mak’s talent had floored him. She deserved this role.
So where the hell did that leave him?
BY THE TIME Makayla made it back to Le Miel to start her shift she’d managed to come up with forty-three different ways she could make Hudson hurt.
Decapitation, evisceration, circumcision...not that she knew if he needed the latter or not, considering they’d never got that far, but she’d be willing to do it without anaesthetic.
His laconic, trite ‘we’ll be in touch’ mocked her, echoing through her head until she’d thumped the steering wheel of her car several times. It hadn’t helped. Hopefully, venting to Abby would.
Because if Makayla knew one thing, Hudson wouldn’t call her. After the way they’d parted five years earlier, he had no freaking intention of calling her. Ever.
Even if he did, would she accept the job? Could she work with the guy who’d judged her and found her lacking, effectively ending their friendship?
She’d heard the rumours on the entertainment grapevine. That landing the lead gig at Embue could be a good segue into the latest dance extravaganza staging at the Opera House in a few months. And from there...well, dancing at the Sydney icon would look mighty fine on her CV if she ever made it to Broadway.
Broadway...her dream since she’d donned her first tutu and slipped on her first tap shoes.
Growing up, she’d spent countless hours poring over the Internet, watching video
