He swallowed and nodded, his eyes searching her own for answers.
She cleared her throat, but it constricted again. She didn’t know what to say. The words of his song laid his soul bare, but she spoke with brush strokes, with colour, not with sound.
She turned and walked over to her easel. Picking up the sketchbook, she walked back to Dylan, who watched her, his forehead creased.
She handed him the book and nodded.
He turned the first page and gasped. His own face stared out at him. It was impressionistic but caught the light in his eyes and the curve of the cat on his shoulder. The image gazed up at him from under heavy lashes, a small smile playing around the edges of his mouth.
‘Keep going,’ Tabitha said, her voice hoarse.
Dylan turned the page. There was another one. This time he was playing his guitar, his eyes closed.
On the next page he sat behind his drums. There was picture after picture. His fingers shook. Tabitha’s throat was dry, but the sound of his voice coming through the speakers helped her hold her nerve. He had laid his soul bare. It was time for her to do the same.
Dylan’s breath caught and he looked up at her. The picture showed a hard look on his face as he glared out of the page, his expression full of anger.
‘That was when I told you. That was how you looked at me when you realised I was the tiger.’
Dylan’s jaw tensed. His eyes looked glassy, and then his shoulders slumped. ‘I’m sorry.’
Tabitha nodded. ‘I know. Me too.’
She turned one last page. In that final picture Dylan stared out through a window. The light from the room lit him up against the black night. His eyes were full of longing.
‘That is the one that was real,’ he said, putting the book down and taking her hands. ‘The other was embarrassment. I couldn’t remember what you might have seen, whether I’d done anything to humiliate myself, when all I ever wanted was for you to think well of me. Don’t believe the mask.’
‘I never believe the mask,’ Tabitha said, her voice a whisper. I can sense the dissonance between what is said and what is real, but that doesn’t mean I know what is causing it, or what the truth is. I have been rejected by so many people for being me.’
Dylan closed his eyes. He took a deep breath then opened them again. ‘By showing me who you really are, you forced me to be more honest about myself, to stop hiding behind the facade I’ve used as a shield. I’ve grown so used to hiding my own differentness, I didn’t realise it was my ground for creating. Whatever happens now, I will always be indebted to you for that.’ He traced her jaw with one finger. She felt the pull of his energy and leaned into him. He bent his head and she tilted her face towards his, closing her eyes, blocking out the world as their lips touched. She reached up, feeling the roughness of stubble over the softness of his skin. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and she sank into the beating of her heart. For once, she wasn’t a tiger. She wasn’t different. She was all Tabitha.
57
Tabitha
The Marquee was enormous and surrounded by a ring of wigwams covered in fairy lights. Tabitha had to remind herself that she was on home ground in the zoo. It was so glamourous it felt a world away from the usual mud and animal smells.
Her heart beat fast as she turned to Dylan. He was breath-taking in a sharp DJ and black bowtie. His short blond hair was styled away from his clean-shaven face. The scent of aftershave drifted from him but didn’t mask the new familiarity of his body next to hers. She smiled at the memory of the tiger hidden away under his flawless jacket. Her grin grew broader still when one of the flesh-and-blood cats grunted in greeting, sensing her presence in the darkness. She really was on home ground, no matter how unfamiliar it all felt.
‘You’re here!’ Ursula ran over and gave Tabitha a hug. Turning to Dylan, she gave him a peck on the cheek, her face reddening. ‘We can really get going now the stars of the show have arrived.’ She led them into the main marquee and they were handed fine-stemmed champagne flutes, filled almost to the brim.
The marquee was enormous. There were tall round tables dotted all over the room. Some already held abandoned glasses. Some supported enormous displays of exotic flowers. Tiny paper butterflies clung to the stems and there was a background hum of rainforest sounds. A screen high up on one side of the tent showed a prowling tiger that paced back and forwards, projected by a light beam. Its roars could be heard periodically over the birdsong and the hum of insects, prompting answering grunts from the tigers in the nearby enclosure. A stage at one end had a single chair with a microphone. Behind it were two display stands, one with the new album cover, and one with an image of a tiger. Tabitha’s painting stood between them in a glass case. The room was already heaving with people dressed in black tie and evening gowns. Tabitha smoothed down her chiffon dress. She had felt like a medieval princess when she pulled it on, the floaty skirt dropping from the high waist which was lined with tiny crystals. A mesh of spaghetti straps covered her shoulders and back, and a large amethyst pointed down into her cleavage.
‘There are some collectors over here who would love to meet you,’ Ursula said.
Tabitha nodded, but frowned up at Dylan.
‘You go. I need to tune up. I’ll be on soon.’ Dylan smiled. ‘Is there a backstage area?’
Linden strode up in a tuxedo identical to Dylan’s own. He took Ursula’s hand and kissed it, and then winked at Dylan. ‘Come on, man, I’ll take you.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Dylan frowned.
Linden laughed at his friend’s surprise. ‘I’m your roady, of course. Who else knows how you like things? Your guitar’s at the back. GJ tuned it for you, so you have time to warm up before you hit the stage.’
Dylan nodded, his focus on the coming performance already clouding his eyes.
A woman in a fitted trouser suit walked over to Tabitha. ‘Tara?’
Tabitha smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Charlotte.’ The woman held out her hand. ‘It’s such an honour to meet you. Your work has always spoken to me. I’ve always felt as though you understand me in a way nobody else does. Your tigers reach into my gut and put my fiercest desires on display.’
‘Do you have many of my paintings?’ Tabitha shook her hand, and then stepped back.
‘I have a few, but not enough. I love this one here, and I will bid to win. But I’d also like something bigger, immersive in proportions. Could you do this for me? I have a large and beautiful room that needs a worthy painting.’
‘I would love to.’ Tabitha felt breathless as an image of a painting on the wall of an enormous ballroom sprang into her mind.
The woman smiled. ‘Excellent. I want the painting that puts that look on your face.’
‘Darling.’ Tabitha’s mum put a hand on her arm, spun her around and kissed her on each cheek. ‘How lovely to see you. What a glorious event. Are you going to introduce me to your friend?’
Her father grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
‘Mum, Dad, I’m so glad you made it. This is Charlotte.’
‘It’s very nice to meet you.’ The woman held out her hand.
‘Not Charlotte Byron?’ Her mum’s voice was breathy.
‘Do we know each other?’ The woman smiled and tilted her head.
Her mum swallowed. ‘No, but I read a feature about you the other day.’
‘Of yes, of course. Don’t mind that.’ Charlotte laughed. So you’re mother to the fabulous Tara McLoughlin! You must be so proud.’
Tabitha gave an embarrassed laugh.
‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ Linden’s voice rang out across the marquee, coming through speakers dotted around the outside of the tent. ‘I am delighted to introduce the artist who was the power behind Instantaneous Rock, my best friend, Dylan McKenzie.’
Tabitha breathed a sigh of relief at the distraction and turned to face the stage.
There were screams from one side of the tent, to the backing of polite appla
use on the other. The two elements in the room were marked in their difference. Dylan’s fans were young, wearing figure-hugging dresses. Tabitha’s were older, drenched in wealth and watching Dylan with amused indifference.
‘Thank you, thank you.’ Dylan perched on the stool in the centre of the stage and adjusted the microphone. His guitar hung on his shoulders on a black, leather strap. ‘It’s so wonderful to see so many of you here today. Wildley Forest Zoo has redoubled its focus on tiger conservation and all the money we make at this event will go towards saving the tigers. Every penny made from album sales tonight will go to funding the conservation efforts. From tomorrow, I will donate ten percent of every sale. And if you look behind me, this wonderful painting by Tara McLoughlin will be auctioned later in the night.’
Dylan smiled at the applause and then started finger picking rolling chords. The lights dimmed. The tiger on the screen began to prowl around the side of the marquee, no longer restricted to one single screen, but moving across the canvas of the tent itself. Dylan sang with his eyes closed. He was larger than life on that stage, his tuxedo unexpected and mesmerising given his usual tank top and shorts. He opened his eyes and looked directly at Tabitha. The words flowed as the notes soared and the tiger prowled.
Tabitha felt her own consciousness shift, felt herself separate. She remained so aware of her body, saw Dylan on stage through her physical eyes, but the more real part of her shimmered into her feline form.
She knew Dylan saw her and felt his emotions soar as their connection intensified. She walked to the stage and then leapt up, manifesting her image more strongly. There were gasps in the audience. The white tiger flittered in front of them, one minute appearing solid, the next like a hologram and then completely vanished. She walked around the stage, echoing the movements of the cat on the screen. She kept her image vague enough to camouflage as another digital projection and the gasps soon turned to oohs and ahhs. As Dylan’s song built, she became more and more solid until the climax, when she jumped from the stage, her paws making an audible thud on the floor. Those at the front moved sharply back, and then breathed again when she flickered out of existence. Tabitha walked back to her body, feeling the emotions of the crowd ebb and flow around her. She kept herself invisible now, adding her own energy to the intensity of Dylan’s song, knowing they had the audience gripped.
She integrated fully, taking note of her racing heartbeat, of how breathless she felt. Dylan’s voice was soaring, the power shimmering from him captivating every single person there. Tabitha was enchanted, proud and vulnerable as he sang their story, her own painting punctuating his words and mirroring her heart to the world.
Then there was silence. It stretched out as the audience took a collective breath, and then the applause started. At first it was just one person clapping slowly, the sound sinking into the many bodies in the room. Then a smattering of applause slowly grew to a roar that overwhelmed Tabitha, pouring over her, threatening to pull her under. Dylan stood at the front of the stage, his face pale and stunned. She wanted to reach out to him, to be his tiger, but the thunder held her grounded, rooted in the very human scene unfolding in front of her.
The applause kept going, rolling higher and then ebbing in continuous waves of sound. Tabitha started walking through the crowds, pushing past people to get to Dylan. She got to the foot of the stage and reached up, putting a hand on his leg. He jerked and seemed to break out of his daze. He looked at Tabitha, crouched down and kissed her. She clutched her arms around his neck and then smiled as he pulled back and lifted her up onto the stage.
‘How did you get so strong?’
He winked at her, and then took her hand and spun her around to face the audience. ‘I give you Tara McLoughlin, your artist and my inspiration. The tigers need us, all of us. Please join with us to help them before they dwindle into extinction. Bid for the painting, buy an album, donate, volunteer, spread the word. Whatever you are able to do would be perfect. We need to work together. If we do, I absolutely believe we can make a difference.’
Ursula climbed up the steps to the stage and beamed at them both. ‘Thank you so much to Dylan and Tara. Now, get your credit cards ready, because it’s nearly time for the auction. Please remember that anything you are able to give will help these beautiful cats.’
Dylan jumped down and reached up to take Tabitha’s hands, but she winked at him and vaulted to the floor, landing lightly and easily despite her formal shoes. He grasped her hand and led her to the bar. ‘Fizz?’ he said, grinning. His face was alight with hope and she laughed, buoyed up by the joy in his eyes.
‘Actually,’ Tabitha said.
‘Ahem,’ a familiar voice called over the din.
‘Mum!’ Dylan was by her side in two strides and bent down, pulling her into his arms. ‘Did you see what happened?’
‘Of course I did!’ Rachel beamed. ‘I always knew you could do it.’
‘You were amazing,’ a familiar voice said.
Dylan looked up. GJ stood there, his hands shoved in his pockets, a smile lighting his face. ‘I am so proud of you.’
Dylan strode over to him and pulled him into a hug. ‘Thank you for all your support. I’m not sure I would have found the strength to take the plunge without your encouragement.
‘Time for a toast, I think.’ Rachel nodded towards a tray of drinks at the bar. There were two pints of lager, a Guinness and a dainty glass of clear liquid.
Tabitha laughed and claimed the Guinness. ‘You read my mind.’ She took a sip, closing her eyes to savour it.
Dylan handed his mum the small glass and gave one of the lagers to GJ. He held up his own pint. ‘To the tigers.’
‘To the tigers.’ Ursula snuck up behind them and put her arm around Tabitha’s waist. ‘I think this is actually going to happen.’
Tabitha grinned. ‘It’d better. I’ve bought the land.’
Ursula laughed. ‘That you have. And Sophie has finally agreed to let us take the tigers to the sanctuary.’
‘She has?’ Tabitha handed her Guinness to Dylan and then threw her arms around the other woman’s neck. ‘That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.’
‘Look, there’s a photographer over there from the local paper.’ Ursula pulled back and pointed to the bar. ‘I’m hoping the story might get picked up by the nationals. Would you go and talk to her?’
‘I’ll leave that to Dylan,’ Tabitha inclined her head. ‘Go on, handsome. If anyone can win over the press, you can.’
Linden vaulted onto the stage and took his place behind the microphone. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the auction.’
‘I’m going to need another drink to get through this,’ Tabitha said, taking a large gulp of Guinness.
‘This is your moment, don’t wish it away.’ Ursula pulled up a stool and sat beside Tabitha. She looked calm, except for the faint tremor of her hands where they clasped her clutch bag in her lap.
‘Huh,’ Tabitha rolled her eyes. ‘My moment is when I’m painting. This …’ she gestured around her, ‘enables me to spend my day doing what I love. I’m lucky, but I do wish it was possible to be lucky in a more private way.’
Ursula smiled. ‘Just think of the tigers.’
Linden cleared his throat. The crowd turned towards the stage. ‘Thank you, folks, it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. We are auctioning an original oil painting by world-renowned artist Tara McLoughlin, showing two tigers, one yellow and one white, standing on either side of something that looks like a mirror. Is that right?’
Tabitha nodded.
‘Good. They are looking at each other through the mirror, which is placed amongst thick foliage. The painting is ninety centimetres wide by sixty centimetres high, plus the frame. I trust you have all taken the time to look at the painting in advance? We will now proceed with the auction.’
Tabitha zoned out while the bidding went on. She generally left the selling of her major works to someone else. The shop front enabled h
er to sell prints and cards, and it gave her a professional base, but this process embarrassed her.
The numbers were climbing. Bidders were dropping out one by one. Ursula’s eyes were wider by the minute. Dylan, who had finished with the journalist, was by Tabitha’s side and gripping her hand too tight. She pried his fingers open.
‘Sorry,’ he said, his voice a mere whisper.
There was a crash.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ a man yelled.
Another crash.
Tabitha scanned the room, and then froze. Max stood near the doorway, looking around the room. He was dressed in faded black joggers and an oversized T shirt. His beard was unshaven. He took a glass of champagne from a tray, and then wove to the centre of the room.
58
Tabitha
Dylan made to step in front of Tabitha, but she took his hand and pulled him back until they stood side by side.
Max’s face hardened as he scanned the crowd and then snaked across the room, weaving from side to side, to stop in front of Sophie. ‘How could you do this to me,’ he said, loudly enough for his voice to carry.
The chatter in the marquee died down until everyone was staring at Max.
‘What are you doing?’ Sophie said, trying to hold her smile. ‘You’re making a scene.’
‘And you hate that, don’t you?’ Max chuckled. ‘But look at this place, tigers everywhere. I should be the guest of honour, the tiger keeper who got the cats back into their cage when they escaped. Instead, you’re celebrating without me and I’m under investigation.’
‘He got them back into their cage?’ Dylan’s voice was high-pitched.
‘Shhh,’ Tabitha hissed, but it was too late.
Max spun around.
Tabitha was expecting anger, but Max paled and skittered backwards. He held his hands up in front of his face. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m going now.’
Wild Shadow : A Sweet Paranormal Romance Page 22