“Messed up?” It’s the only response I can manage, because I think my mouth fell open. I close it and feel my jaw harden. Aaron has said absolutely nothing in my defense.
“Yes.”
“You’ve got to be joking?” Rayne says, placing himself between Jay and me. “You’re making it sound like it’s all Eve’s fault. Randall made her go on the date with the billionaire and then he can’t take it, so he goes off and cheats on her the very same day. I don’t know psychology, but that sounds like emotional abuse to me.”
I find myself nodding then stop. Is it?
I peer to my left. Aaron’s gaze is on me, and it’s dark. I feel myself shrinking into a hole.
“I agree with Rayne,” a woman says behind me.
I turn, surprised to find contestant number four, Friday McNamara, smiling warmly.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” she says, tipping her head toward Aaron. “Nathaniel is willing to wait for you, Evangeline. He already has been—” When I gape this time, she smiles. “Sorry. I overhead pretty much everything, too.”
I shrug. “‘S’okay.”
“And now for our final four!” Dan calls out, sending the audience into a happy frenzy, while my stomach drops to the floor. “Friday McNamara!”
“Wish me luck?” she whispers.
“You don’t need luck. You’re amazing,” I say, patting her arm. She laughs as if she doesn’t believe me, even though I meant every word.
“Good luck, Eve. Don’t worry, yeah?”
And then Friday is walking out the stage door and up the stairs. Emma is at the door, calling Rayne. After he’s made his entrance she waves Aaron and I forward. I don’t dare look at Aaron, I just walk.
“Ardent Strangers!” Dan calls through the speakers.
As the music spins in the background, I take a deep breath and trudge up the stairs to the stage. I glimpse the judging panel—avoid Nathaniel—and focus on Dan’s leather jacket and plasticine smile. I smile back, wave into the shadows that is the audience and make my way to the waiting area, where every row is full except for the front bench. I sit at the far end and examine my new French manicure, twiddling my thumbs. I can feel the stage fright settling in, along with Aaron’s betrayal. I can’t bring myself to look up, even as Aaron sits beside me, or Rayne beside him, or when Fatal Attack takes their positions closest to the stage. The cameras stop rolling and we cut to a commercial break. Relief.
As if my night couldn’t get any better, the producers have selected Ardent Strangers to open the show. Without so much as a glance at Aaron, I leave the waiting area and walk up the curved steps. The stage feels bigger than it did in rehearsals. The bluish lights and smoke machine blowing wisps of cloud around my legs and through the air. The stage crew roll on a wooden house prop with a window pane that looks eerie similar to the one in the house where Jeremy found me that night of the attack. I should have told one of the producers the prop made me uncomfortable, but there would have been questions I couldn’t face.
One of the tech guys fits earpieces into my ears. I feel half deaf until Emma speaks into my ear, “Nod if you can hear me, Eve.”
I look towards the glass sound room at the back of the studio and give a nod, even though I have no idea where Emma is in the semi-lit theatre. I slide onto the stool. There’s a microphone in front of my guitar, then I remember that a singing mic is attached sneakily to my dress. Aaron seems completely unfazed by his microphones as he settles on the stool beside mine. The judges are talking and laughing amongst themselves, and Skylar is beaming. Probably because she’s in between two of music’s hottest men. Me? I’m on my own. Aaron and I are like two solo acts, not a single word of communication between us. Has the audience noticed this? Has anyone?
As another crew member passes me my guitar, my hands are visibly shaking.
“You’ll be fine,” the crew member says, patting me on the arm.
“Guess I’ll know in five minutes time.”
He laughs. “You will indeed. Show’s back in two minutes.”
“Aghh,” I whisper, wishing I could scream out loud. I drum my guitar and give it a quick pluck. The tuning’s fine. Why Aaron needs to tune his so often is beyond me.
I peer into the crowd and spy Nathaniel.
He points stealthily at me and then at his eyes.
I nod in understanding, recalling his words from yesterday: ‘Sing to me. Pretend that I’m the only one in the room.’ The problem: I see the corner of his mouth twitch, as if he is enjoying unravelling our first code of secrets as much as I am.
The panic returns as I look around the studio. So many people—the judges, Nathaniel, the audience, Nathaniel, the band in the music pit at the front of the stage, Nathaniel… I gulp and look to the waiting area. Friday gives me a wave, while Jay shouts, “Breathe, Snow. Remember to breathe. And have fun!”
Fun? I scoff a laugh. “Yeah. Easy.”
“It will be,” Aaron murmurs. “Eve, look at me a sec.”
I swivel on my stool and finally meet his eyes. He looks as if he’d do almost anything to fix us. The stage darkens to a misty midnight blue with the odd purple light here and there. I glance to the prop house sitting under an eerie white light, and I’m reminded of Jeremy again, all of his lies and infidelity. I look back to Aaron and I feel like I’m walking back into the same horror as before.
“Eve,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb beneath my jaw. I almost flinch but remember the audience—Nathaniel. “Last night was bad, I know. But if you knew how much you meant to me, how hurt I was. I think I’m falling in love with you.”
I thought so, too, I’m about to say. But he swoops in and kisses me, his hand clasping my neck as he pulls me closer. The audience goes crazy with cheers. Beneath the cheers is a backlash of booing—probably the Nathaniel fans. I slap Aaron’s hand away and pull back. “No,” I breathe.
Aaron pretends I said nothing, as if I hadn’t rejected him. I can hardly blame him, considering the number of eyes on him.
And Nathaniel is watching!
Luckily, the microphones weren’t on. At the judges table Zach looks bemused, Skylar is squinting at me and, on my right, Hudson is clapping. My gaze longs to wander several seats across, but I look down at my guitar, panicking. The show returns, but all I can think is that Aaron kissed me! He’s falling in love with me! I would have loved him to have said that before the park fiasco. But now…now, it’s just horrible.
Two of the three cameras focus on the stage. The lights in the studio dim and a man in my earpiece says, “Back in 3-2-1…”
On a stairway landing, amidst the back of the audience, a spotlight shines down over Dan. “Let’s give a warm welcome to one of your favorites Australia. Here is Ardent Strangers with the full version of Running low!”
The air seems to crackle around me, the smoke wafting like a protective barrier between the audience and me. It’s almost as if Aaron and I are the only ones in the room, him on one stool, me on the other, our bodies slightly tilted toward each other like when we play at home. I take what feels like my final breath. My thumb falls against the wood of the guitar, and I slap out a deliberate unsettled beat. I keep the beat flowing without music, then lean into the mic, my voice filling my left earpiece and the entire studio as I sing, “Don’t open up, don’t call. You’ve done this too many times before. No more, I won’t let you in.”
Without a single string plucked between us, he taps out a beat on the side of his guitar, staggering it over mine. “I’m outside in the night. I’m waiting…” he sings softly, but it travels throughout the studio with a menacing edge that sounds better than any of the rehearsals. He sings a little stronger, “Through the window, I can see you.”
A chill runs through me and I forget to slap the beat, my hand paused above the guitar. My chest constricts. All I see is blue mist and a blur of shadowy figures in the audience. A camera zooms in on me, its little light telling me that it’s capturing it all. I glance to the edge of the judges’ table
and find Nathaniel. I can just make out his encouraging nod through the shadows, his eyes telling me I can do this. When I come back from my moment of doubt I realize Aaron is still carrying the drumbeat, and improvising with a new faster rhythm mixed in. He’s waiting for me to sing.
I give him a nod, telling him to get ready. After his fourth beat, I strike the guitar with chord after chord as I sing out, “I’m running now, I’m running now. I’m running low. I’m running low.”
Aaron takes over the chords, while my guitar sings a despairing melody above, then we are interweaving one melody over the other, letting it escalate until it might fly away.
The strings ring out on an unfinished chord. A few audience members clap, but most can tell the song’s not finished, yet. I’m buzzing with adrenaline, and somewhere inside of me the words to the song are hitting my heart like the day Jeremy had struck me, the whole atmosphere on stage as surreal as the night he broke through my door. I can barely stop trembling as I lean into the mic and sing through the silence, “I’m running now. I’m running low. Please don’t find me.”
“I will find you,” Aaron sings quietly. He beats the wood below the strings as I slip my heels off and run behind him in several choreographed strides, my guitar flailing at my side. But the moment I disappear behind the wall of the house, I am panting, crying as Aaron launches into the second verse.
I take a deep breath and sit my guitar on the stand behind the prop, seeing my violin case open and ready for me. As I look to the glassless window, which I’m supposed to walk behind in a few short moments, it really does feel like somebody watching me from the other side. Silly, as there will be a whole audience watching, yet Jeremy is the only one I see.
Oh god. He could be watching. From his prison cell. He could be taking pride in the fact that I based this entire performance around him, that I used his final words, “I will always find you, Evangeline.”
I hear Aaron sing the pre-chorus, “I’m outside in the night. I’m waiting… Through the window, I can see you.”
The stage on my side has turned dark, the window unlit. I keep my violin and bow in my right hand, hidden from view as I step slowly behind the window. Smoke filters around me, and I prepare myself for what’s to come.
Aaron’s electric guitar thrashes through the speakers and the show’s band explodes with drums and keyboards and bass guitar. White light pours over me, and I know I look a ghostly picture with my white dress and my black hair breezing from a nearby fan. I fill my lungs and belt out the high descending melody, “I’m running now, I’m running now. I’m running low. I’m running low.” I repeat that once more, not needing to fake fear as I look through the window frame.
The white light vanishes and I’m thrown into darkness. Cheers fly as the band and Aaron build a cacophony of noise that pushes my adrenaline higher. Violin under my chin, I take a sweeping run behind the house and exit beside it, as if I’m still on the run. A spotlight falls upon me as I slam my bow across the strings in an angry succession of chords that are electrified through the pickup in my violin. Another cheer from the audience, but I don’t dare look ahead, I turn to the spotlight on my front-left, the one shining on Aaron. He’s so in the moment, his fingers controlling the guitar, owning every note. I swear he’s aching to smile; I can see it threatening at the edges of his mouth. In that second it all seems worth it: the fear, the stage fright, everything, because Aaron was right. He needed this.
Violin singing beneath my fingers, I wind my way back to the front of the stage and turn to Aaron, letting the music bind us together. Our eyes connect, and he circles me as if I’m prey. I try not to think on it, telling myself that this is Aaron, Aaron who can be sweet and kind and loves music as much as I do, who cheated on me less than sixteen hours ago. I close my eyes and let my body sway, pushing my violin in a whirling tune that is as sorrowful as my own wounds.
The stage goes into almost darkness, and a hush sweeps the room. I lower my violin and Aaron rests his guitar in a stand beside his acoustic. We slide onto our stools, no instruments, only us. The dusty blue light returns and we split into a harmony that resonates through the air, “I can’t run anymore. I can only slam the door….
My voice falls airily, “But it’s not enough, you will always find me.”
Two seconds of silence and Aaron sings, “I will always find you.”
More silence.
The silence feels unending, then the applause begin. Hudson and Zach stand at the judges table, along with the rest of the crowd, while Skylar claps stiffly. Nathaniel is still there—for some reason, I thought he might flee. I’m more surprised to see pride and possibly relief in his eyes. I feel lighter than I have all night, all day. He sends me one of those dazzling smiles, and I am smiling back. I think I’ve fallen into a state of cloud-nine, brought on by post-performance euphoria.
A strong arm curls around my back and that cloud-nine vanishes, leaving a wisp of smoke. Aaron pulls me into his side and kisses the top of my temple. That’s when Nathaniel’s smile fades and he checks his phone, that’s when I turn to the judges’ table.
“Now that’s what good looks like people!” yells Hudson, thumping the table, then dropping down into his seat. “Yeah!”
Zach laughs on the opposite end of the table. He looks like he wants to shout an awesome catchphrase, but never does.
Skylar sits up in her chair, smiling coolly. As for the straight panels of her purple dress, they barely cover each breast, leaving a gaping display of her chest and abs. Honestly, I’m scared to look anywhere but her face, unlike Hudson and Zach, whose eyes keep straying there constantly.
Dan appears on stage, waves an arm towards Aaron and me, and calls, “Wow. Ardent Strangers, everybody!”
I grin nervously, and at that moment I’m glad to have Aaron with me. The terror has returned. I might have been opposed to entering the competition, but what these people think of us matters, all of a sudden. What the judges think of us matters. What Nathaniel thinks…that matters. I rub my hands together and cling to Aaron.
Dan smiles at the table opposite the stage. “Judges, what did we think of our first act of the night? Skylar?”
She sighs loudly. “I have to be honest, I’m a having a love-hate relationship with that performance. The dynamic was all wrong.” She smiles kindly at Aaron. “Aaron, you owned that song. You captured the sinister mood of the lyrics perfectly. You could have a career right now and sell out shows.” Her gaze shifts to me. “Evangeline. What to say…?” She taps the table lightly, then cringes. Cringes! “Other than when you belted out the chorus, I’m afraid you sounded like a frightened little girl. I feel your performance lacked real musicality. Maybe you could work on that with your mentor, whichever one of us that might be,” she says, flicking her hand between the judges. “That’s if you make it into the top twelve next week, which might very well happen, as tonight’s performances dictate which twelve will be leaving at the start of Wednesday’s show. Only twelve spots to fill. Although, with Aaron’s performance being so strong it might be enough to pull you through. Let’s hope, hey?” She smiles positively, as if she’s given me a glowing report, not torn my confidence to shreds in a few short phrases.
Holy crap. I might never perform again.
Aaron squeezes my waist. I don’t resist. I’ve gone numb. I’m scared to see what expression he might be wearing—disappointment that he chose me? I fight the impulse to run off stage like the ‘frightened little girl’ I am. The frightened girl is winning. I inch away from Aaron, ready to make a run for it when I see Nate lean forward in his chair as if he’s about to leave. His cheeks are drawn tight. He looks peeved—at me or something else, I’m not sure which.
Hudson spins his chair toward Skylar and leans back. “I’m sorry?! Were we watching the same performance? Sure, Aaron was good, but the fear in Eve’s voice stole the show, the way she poured her heart out into that violin. I seriously believed she was there, living that song. And I’d bet anything that
she wrote that song alone.” To make his point, he spins his chair toward the stage and gives me a questioning look. “Did you?”
“Um…” As grateful as I am for Hudson’s defense, I don’t want to admit a thing.
“It’s Eve’s song,” says Aaron, rubbing my back in that soothing way he does. Part of me wants to flinch away in disgust, the other part of me feels calmer for it.
Hudson gives Skylar a calculating smile. “See. There you go. I was right. Eve’s song.”
“Well, that makes her performance even more disappointing, doesn’t it? Because vocally it was found wanting.”
“Wanting my as—”
Zach spins his chair towards Skylar. “You’re jealous that your voice doesn’t sound as good as hers. You haven’t had a top ten hit in years.”
“You did not just say that,” she scoffs.
“You heard me.” Zach pulls the tip of his cap down and flicks hair across his eyes. Skylar is about to retort, but Zach swings his chair to the stage. “My turn to talk.”
“You little sh—”
“It was dark, edgy. You rocked it,” Zach says, as he glances back and forth between Aaron and me, flipping each end of his biro on the table. “Aaron, awesome voice. Eve—stunning. One question, though. The lyrics, Eve—fact or fiction?”
Scared to see Nathaniel’s reaction, my gaze finds him anyway. He is still leaning forward in his chair, elbows on knees. His concern for me is almost too private to intrude upon; it binds me to him like an invisible thread, as if he cares about my heart without even needing to be told what its been through.
“Fact,” I say, my eyes heating with tears as they skip over to a startled Zach. I put my head down, regretting my admission. If Jeremy is watching this from his cell, I bet he’s getting a kick out of the way I’m almost crying on stage because of him.
Ardent Strangers_An Ardent Strangers novel Page 19