IF YOU'RE LUCKY (COMPLETE)

4. Peasants

VICTORIA POV

I step out of the elevator and flick my eyes over to my saving grace: Women's Restroom. I fling the door wide open and rush to the nearest sink. I fumble with the faucet handles to make the water cold as possible and splash my face with a welcoming shiver.

I was dead tired from my performance last night, but Faye insisted we go to the hotel bar to celebrate. One too many tequila shots and I could barely keep my breakfast down.

"The nerve of that asshole", I mumble, splashing another handful of water in my face. I rub the remaining water off my face and dry off with a paper towel. Why'd he look so familiar? My hands clench either side of the marble sink as I stare into the mirror. "Keep it together, V. Can't have you blowing chunks during rehearsal".

Feeling comfortable and sleepy as I lean my hands on the sink, I force myself to push off and trudge out of the bathroom. I don't know how I made it to the theatre with my eyes half closed. Everyone was already in their rightful places. Some of the production crew were on ladders, adjusting the lighting while most of the performers were quickly running through their routine.

I drag myself to the table on the left side of the stage and lazily toss my bag over the chair. My head pounding, I pull out my baton and fuel.

God, I wish this hangover would just go away.

I find a free spot some feet away from the table and begin twirling into my act when a lighting bolt of pain shoots through my head. "Ow, damn it!", I shout in pain as I crouch down, my fingers pressing into my hot temples. I could feel several eyes shoot at me when I cry out. "Move along, nothing to see here!", I growl, dispersing the onlookers.

"Here", I hear a low, but familiar voice. It was just as cheerful as the last time I heard it. "Take this", Jacob hands me a bottle of water and two pills in his hand.

I take the water gratefully, only staring at the pills. "I'll pass on those", I raise my palm to him. He gives me a quizzical look. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to take things from strangers?" I ask.

He lets out a deep chuckle. "It's just Advil, I know a hangover when I see one. Strangers can be nice sometimes too", he smiles. He keeps his palm extended with the Advil still in his hands.

I roll my eyes at him. "What makes you so sure? Trusted too many strangers in your lifetime?", I joke in hopes of proving him wrong.

Jacob closes his hand and walks over to the edge of the stage. He places the Advil onto the table next to my backpack and walks back over to me. "Nope. Just trusted too many people close to me. Sometimes you just need to have faith in a stranger", he says calmly. The tone of his voice made the thought sad, but he flashes me a big smile and back to the dressing room. Something about his words resonate with me and I couldn't help but grab the Advil off the table and take them.

***

The ibuprofen makes me feel a little better, but it doesn't help my nausea. I try my best to fight through it, but the fuel aftertaste in my mouth is not helping. I soldier on, pouring it into my mouth and bringing the baton to my lips. I force myself to release a blaze into the air, when suddenly I feel a cough forming in the back of my throat. I try to hold it back just until I've gotten all the fuel burned out of my mouth, but it's too late. I cough violently, already burning fuel spewing onto the stage. Some gets into my nasal passage as I try to get myself together.

Everyone looks on like I'm dying. "I'm fine, I'm fine!", I raise my palm out. "I just need some water".

I sit on the edge of the stage, my legs swinging. I take a long gulp of my water and it calms the burning in my throat. I continue to take a breather when the director begins an announcement. "Listen up, guys!", she waves her hands for attention. "Were gonna run through a full performance rehearsal in a minute. We have some big wigs from the hotel coming in to sit in on rehearsal, so don't fuck up!"