“What would you know about it?” Bette said sarcastically. Her dislike
and distrust of Ivan flared, all the friendliness gone from her voice,
holding only contempt.

“I know a lot about changing, Bette,” he replied softly. “And what I do
know is that you can’t control people, places and things. You can only
control your feelings about them. No other power but that is given to
you.”

“Spare me the 12-step jargon, Ivan. This is different.”

“Not really,” he shook his head. “Tina’s chosen a life you don’t
approve of. And you can’t change it. You can’t change any part of the
past, or the present. So you’re angry. You’re here to confront her and
try to force her back into being the woman you think she should be. Not
for her sake, but for your own.” He fixed Bette with an intense
clear-eyed gaze. She looked away, knowing he was right, but not willing
to hear it.

“I just can’t walk away from this, Ivan,” she said in a shaky voice. “I
can’t. I know I did wrong by her. I do. But this isn’t the way to heal
the pain I caused her.” Bette sighed, her voice moving down in its
anger.

“How do you know, Bette? How can you know what’s best for Tina? How can you know what’s best for anybody but yourself?”

Bette didn’t have the opportunity to answer. Kit and Candace returned
to the table, and not four steps behind them, was Tina, a sway to her
hips Bette had never seen, or perhaps just not noticed. Her eyes were
cold, almost as cold as the smile on her face that greeted Bette.
Bette’s anger faded, then doubled as she stood at the front of the
table.

“I see you’ve finally found your way to my den, Bette.” Tina smiled and
Shane was just a few feet away, at her service but not on her knees.
Tina had instructed her to stand, but to stay well behind her. Her
hands were behind her back, her head bowed down, her longer hair in her
eyes as she watched from the wings.

“You Your den?” Bette stammered, Ivan taking a long breath and closing
his eyes, bracing for the eruption about to happen; he could feel it.
Kit tightened her grip around his fingers. Ivan held her steady, making
sure she kept out of it. The look on Candace’s face told him that she
too, was staying well out of it.