by Bella Jewel
Which means I have to limit the amount of alone time I spend with him. I won’t be impolite, I want his security and I want his friendship. But I can’t allow those fingers to curl around my jaw, for those rugged lips to graze my forehead, for those big arms to wrap around me and hold me tight. I can’t have that. Because I will never let him go.
No alone time. I can do that.
I have his phone number now, that’ll make things a whole lot easier.
Remembering I have his phone number, I throw myself out of bed and rush over, picking up my phone and then stopping myself. This isn’t holding myself back. I’m like a teenager getting a text from her crush. I close my eyes, gather myself, and then glance down at the screen. Disappointment floods my chest when I see no message. What did I expect anyway? That he’d message? Of course not. He’s probably asleep. He was up late too.
Still, I can’t stop that nagging sinking feeling in my chest.
I definitely need to avoid alone time.
A knock sounds at my door and I walk over, opening it to see Susan standing outside, a cup of tea in her hands, giving me that look that I used to hate so damned much. It’s a look of pity. Like she feels sorry for me. Like she thinks I’m going to lose it at any moment and get put in a padded cell. I hate that she still doesn’t fully believe in me, and it makes me wonder why. Does Susan have a reason for being so ... uptight and withdrawn? So unsure if a person is ever telling her the truth?
“Morning,” I say, taking the tea. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, studying me. “How did you sleep?”
“Not great. What’s the news this morning?”
She exhales. “It’s not too bad. We have refunded the fans for the show, it comes at a bit of a loss to you, but you’re earning enough to quickly cover it.”
I shrug. Money has never been why I do this. I rarely touch it. Those fans deserve their tickets refunded—I didn’t give them a complete show and I ran off the stage.
“That’s okay. And the news?”
“The news is the news, they’re spinning a million different stories. A stalker, an ex-lover, mental health issues, drug use—you name it, someone is writing about it. We’re doing a press release this morning, you can say something, clear up some confusion.”
I frown. “And what exactly am I supposed to say? That I saw my ex-boyfriend who used to bash me and froze?” She flinches. I feel bad for that and soften my face instantly. “Sorry.”
“Just simply say you’ve been unwell and had to rush off the stage because you were going to throw up.”
“And spark a million rumors that I’m pregnant?”
She purses her lips. “Well, you could simply say you’ve had a medical problem and felt extremely dizzy, but you’ll be well again for your next shows.”
“That’s probably the lie that’ll allow for the least amount of damage,” I mutter.
“I’ve ordered you some breakfast. Try and stay away from the internet. You know what it’s like, it isn’t helpful. Take a few hours, and then get ready. The conference is at lunch time.”
“And security?” I ask her.
“We have had no other reason to believe that Treyton is looking for you, Scarlett. We have security on extra alert, but at this stage I don’t believe we need anything more. It’ll only cause chaos. He may have been at the show. He may not have been. I see no reason that he would have to want to hurt you, so for now, we’re going to assume this was an ... emotional reaction to past events on your behalf.”
I blink.
Seriously? Is she serious?
An emotional reaction?
God damn her for not believing in me.
“I don’t feel safe, Susan. I’ve told you this before and you didn’t hear me. Please hear me now and put more security on.”
She flinches again; this time my face doesn’t soften.
“I’ll have them keep extra watch over you.”
Then she leaves.
Damn her.
I walk over to my phone and pick up, angrily punching out a text without thought. I don’t know why I do it, considering Maverick and I have only known each other a matter of a week, and yet I want to vent to him. Maybe because right now, probably outside of Amalie, he’s the only person I trust.
S – Susan doesn’t believe me. And it makes me cross. She’s not putting on extra security.
I send it, and then my tummy erupts in butterflies. Will he answer? Will he think I’m some sort of stage-5 clinger? Considering he only gave me his number last night ... Dammit. Why can’t text messages be reversed? Before I can think any more about it, the phone alerts me to an incoming text message. From him. My heart flutters and my fingers tremble a little as I rush to open it.
M – Susan needs a good fucking talking to. I will have some extra eyes on you. Don’t panic.
I push my lips out, think about it, and then decide to go with a simple reply.
S – Thank you. I really appreciate it.
M – Seen the news this morning?
I exhale.
S – I’ve been avoiding it.
M – Keep avoiding it. You feeling okay?
S – Yeah. Thanks.
He doesn’t reply after that, a small, sensitive part of me kind of feels like his messages were a little distant. But, he is a biker, and I don’t imagine bikers love texting a great deal. So maybe he sounds gruff because it isn’t really his thing. I push that thought aside and open up Facebook. I shouldn’t, I know this, but curiosity burns at me as I get onto my fan page and start reading.
My heart sinks into my chest as I scour over the words. We’re artists, we all have haters, but today it seems like they’re out in full force. There is a picture of me, frozen on stage, and I honestly look like I’m stoned and completely out of it. I’m staring at nothing—or so it would seem to onlookers—and my mouth is slightly agape, eyes empty. God. Not good. The comments make it a whole lot worse.
Another artist down to the drugs. What a waste of money. She doesn’t even sound good anymore.
She’s probably going to start stripping naked on the stage next, to get attention. Give up, bitch, your career is over. Waste of money.
I can’t believe I wasted time on this singer. She isn’t even good. She looks like a hooker. What’s with that shirt? Who comes on stage spaced out. I want a full refund and more!
She’s probably pregnant and doesn’t know who the father is. #slut. That’s what happens to them all.
She’s ugly anyway. Time for a new sound. She’s old news.
Dumb bitch. I want my money back.
I don’t read anymore. I drop my phone and tears roll down my cheeks. Why the hell did I read that? Now I feel terrible, so much worse than I already felt before. I know people are cruel, I know those comments aren’t true, but they tore me to my core. I have to do something about this. I can’t have a single one of those people believing that I don’t appreciate them.
I rush out of the room and down the hall to where Susan is on the phone at the kitchen table. When she sees me, she ends the call. “What is it?”
“I’m doing a free show. Here. In a few nights.”
She blinks. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No, I’m not. I’m going to open it up to anyone who wants to watch me. They will pay nothing. To say sorry for letting them down when they came to see me.”
“No. Scarlett. That will never happen. There is no way there is somewhere in this city with enough space for that many thousands of people. A free show will cause chaos.”
“Then we’ll do one of those rooftop things, where I’m up high on a building, and everyone can just line the streets and watch.”
“Scarlett. The police will never allow it. No. I’m sorry. There has to be something else.”
Frustration bubbles in my chest. I have to do something for these people, but she’s right, a free show will never work because there will be no way of controlling it and it would get out of hand
. There has to be something.
“How many people are attending the second concert?”
“20,000.”
“There has to be something we can do.”
“Not to please that many people.”
“What about doing a free concert, just for them? They can receive a refund, in full, but also use their ticket or some sort of proof that they had a ticket, to enter for another concert.”
She thinks on this. “Your other fans may get upset over this.”
“My other fans watched a whole show. These ones didn’t get the chance. It might allow me to apologies, and it might calm some of them down.”
Susan thinks on it. “It could work, but it could also go very very badly.”
“I can’t just let it go, Susan. I have to do something. I’ve never let my fans down before. I’ll explain it in full at the conference today. And I’ll explain why I’m doing it. Some fans may get angry, some may disown me, but there will be some that will come, and they will appreciate it. It might douse some of the fire.”
She thinks on it some more. “Let me make a few calls, see if we can work it out.”
“Okay.”
“Go and eat, Scarlett. You’ve got a big day ahead.”
Yes.
Indeed, it seems I do.
-10-
SCARLETT
“Thank you for having me today,” I say, standing at a large podium outside of a building, cameras flashing, reporters shoving their microphones at me, security practically sitting on top of me.
I hate doing these things, but I will, for my fans. I’ve never done one for negative press, I’ve only ever done them for promotion, or to talk about a new album. So, the nerves in my stomach are over the top. I’m anxious and wondering what kind of questions I’m going to get asked, and mostly, will I lose it and freeze again? I take a few calming breaths.
“I’ll be taking your questions in a moment, but firstly I’d like to offer my sincere apologies for last night’s show. I’m very sorry to all my fans who missed out on seeing the show, and you will be refunded in full. Yes?” I say, pointing to a reporter on the left.
“What happened on that stage?” she asks.
“I’ve been unwell in the last few weeks, dizzy spells, things like that. It’s nothing at all serious, but exhaustion got the better of me and I found myself extremely lightheaded and nauseous, unsure of where I was.”
“Are you using drugs, Scarlett?” someone else yells.
“I’m sure that’s a question you ask everyone, and I’m sure the answer is always no, however I can assure you I am not a user and I was, simply unwell. We artists are humans too, and being on tour can get exhausting at times.”
“Are you pregnant?” another reporter asks.
“No, sir.” I laugh, trying to keep it light even though my knees are shaking. “I’ve still got a lot more go in me before I think about having babies.”
“Is your medical condition in relation to a previous habit, or perhaps some sort of alcohol addiction?”
I shake my head. “No, I simply was unwell. As I said, I am human too. Exhaustion got the better of me, on top of a lingering flu.”
“Your fans are bitterly disappointed; how will you make it up to them?”
“Well.” I smile. “That’s what I wanted to talk about. Everyone else who has paid for a ticket, has been entitled to see a full show, and those people who purchased a ticket to last night’s show should be able to, also. So, I’ll be offering the obvious refund in full, but I am also going to be doing a free entry show tomorrow night for all those ticket holders to attend, if they so wish.”
Reporters go nuts with questions and security has to calm them down, barking “One at a time!”
“What about your other fans? They will be disappointed they don’t get the chance to come to a free show.”
“Sadly, that is true, and I’m very sorry for any disappointment caused. As I said, however, those fans did get a show but last night’s fans did not, and that simply isn’t fair. I’d offer the same, no matter who or where it happened.”
“That’s a kind gesture,” another reporter yells. “Where will these fans be able to find details?”
“A mass email and alert is being sent to all the people who purchased a ticket, so they will have proof of entry. The show will be held in the same place, at the same time as last, tomorrow night. I will be putting details on all my social media pages, as well as my website.”
“Do you expect backlash from this??”
I shrug. “Perhaps, and if that’s what I receive I will accept it. I let my fans down. I’m doing what I can to make that up to them.”
“What if nobody shows?”
Inside, I’m laughing. Nobody misses a free show. Not even angry people. But instead, I smile. “I will be there, singing, no matter what.”
“That’s all for today,” Susan says, stepping in. “Details on Scarlett’s show will be posted within the hour, and all the people who purchased a ticket will be notified. Thank you.”
Security hustles me out the back, and when the doors are closed, I exhale and my shoulders slump. That was intense, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Now to face the angry online mob that will no doubt arise when not everyone realizes they’re getting free tickets. I can only pray it isn’t so bad.
Pray.
Hard.
~*~*~*
MAVERICK
“Koda,” I say, answering the phone sleepily.
“Bro, how’s things?”
“Mal tell you to call me?” I mutter, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. Fuck, it’s way too early to be dealing with the club right now. I’m fucking tired. Scarlett’s free show was on last night, and after all the shit I saw online with her fans, and then her ex showing up at her last show, I was beside myself with concern that something would happen to her. I couldn’t get into the show, to make matters worse, so I just had to sit outside, wondering if any of the fuckers going in was her deranged ex-boyfriend.
She made it out okay, and I crashed into exhaustion.
“Yeah, he wanted to see if you had any more information yet.”
“On the ex?” I grumble, throwing my legs over the side of the uncomfortable as fuck bed and standing up.
I walk into the bathroom, balancing the phone on my ear, and free myself so I can take a leak.
“You pissin’ on the phone?” Koda asks.
“You wake me up from my sleep, I’m goin’ to piss on the phone. And no, I haven’t gotten any more information. She’s hittin’ the road again today, headed toward Seattle. She’s doin’ that, then down to Boise, Salt Lake City, and then she’s finished and home in Denver. I’ll roll back in then. Goin’ to keep followin’ her.”
“Figured as much,” he mumbles. “She’s told you nothin’ else then?”
“Haven’t spoken much to her, so that would be a no. Anything else?”
“Nah,” he chuckles, clearly amused by my mood. “Sounds like you need to go back to bed and get out the other side.”
“When’s Mal sendin’ more men?” I grunt, feeling my shoulders tense with frustration. I’m not sure where it’s stemming from.
I need to find a pussy tonight.
I need release.
“Mal and I are hittin’ the road, which is what I was gettin’ to. He has leads, conveniently, all in that area. He is thinkin’ it’s all related.”
Fuck. I was really hoping that wasn’t the case, but I’m starting to think it is. And if it is, is she actually involved in some way? Worse, is she keeping me distracted looking after her, so her damned ex-boyfriend can slip right through the cracks?
No.
Fuck. She just isn’t like that. She’s so damned pure.
Right?
“Mal is ridin’?” I mutter. “Fuck. Didn’t think he’d step out and take it directly into his hands.”
“Said he needs a break. When are you expectin’ to roll into Seattle?”
“Travel
in’ half of today, and pullin’ up tomorrow. She has a show tomorrow night.”
“Right, we have some things to look into in San Fran, but after that we’ll head up that way. Any idea how long she’s stayin’ in Seattle?”
“Four days, two shows.”
“Right, we’ll be there, give you some extra eyes from then until she rolls in home. Be careful, buddy, don’t know how deep this goes.”
“I’m not fuckin’ stupid, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Stay cool, brother. We’ll be in touch.”
I hang up and toss the phone, frustrated. I reach up, rubbing the back of my neck where tension is brewing. The bus is expected to make a stop in Salem, and then travel through to Seattle the next day. I’ll be finding some pussy tonight when we stop, fuck knows I need it—the only way to remove some of this tension is a good, hard fuck.
And considering I can’t fuck the woman I want, I’ll have to settle with what I can find.
I pack up my small bag of shit and pick up my phone, throwing a message to Scarlett.
M – What time you hitting the road?
She replies instantly, and it does bring some relief to my chest. Which fucks me up, because if she is somehow involved in any of this, it isn’t going to feel nice when it all comes out in the wash. I fucking like her, a lot. But I have to take emotion out of it and use my head right now. Until we piece this together, I can’t let my feelings run away with me.
S – In about an hour. How are you today?
Fuck if that doesn’t make my chest feel warm.
M – Good. Slept like shit. Will be following you. Where are you staying?
S – Some house again. I’ll send the address when I find it. Thanks for tagging along, I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than babysit me.
M – Rather that, then see anything happen to you. See you soon.
I close the phone and walk outside to my bike, slamming the hotel room door shut behind me. I throw my stuff in the storage compartments, then throw my leg over and start it up. I need food and a coffee before I get on the road.
Here’s hoping something comes to the surface in the next few days.