Getting Real

by Ainslie Paton

  “Was that what you wear on stage?” He topped up her water glass.

  “No. I have different costumes for the stage show.”

  “So, that’s what you wear when you’re not performing?”

  Rielle paused. How to explain that she was always performing without it sounding completely insane? “Ah yeah, that’s right.”

  Mick frowned at her, trying to understand. He was a handsome man. His knitted brows so much like Jake’s would be in thirty years’ time.

  “It’s difficult—we’re kind of famous. I have to dress the part all the time. But I can escape when I dress down, I don’t get recognised.”

  “Ah,” said Mick nodding, “must be hard on you to have to go around all the time pretending to look like someone else.”

  Rielle opened her mouth to tell Mick he had it the wrong way about. The reason she dressed outrageously was to escape looking like someone else, but the words stuck in her throat. Something about the look on Mick’s face, the same even features that graced Jake’s, made her stop. Maybe the Reed men had it right after all.

  Later in the yard with Jake, while a homemade apricot pie was setting, and the kettle was boiling, Rielle realised she’d lost that horribly awkward feeling she had when they arrived. It was a nice night, she was in the company of a man who loved her and his parents weren’t fussing over her like visiting royalty or putting them through the third degree. On top of that, she’d just played fetch with the dog and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched an animal. Except for the ugly dress, these were simple pleasures that made her happy.

  So far Jake had managed to dodge the inquisition, but he knew it was waiting, brewing like the tea and it made him smile to think that if Mum didn’t manage to corner him, she’d be up half the night speculating endlessly about Rielle and what her son was up to.

  He watched Rie throw a chewed up tennis ball to Monty. The dog was doing ecstatic doggy backside wriggling every time he brought the ball back, and Rie, while not exactly wriggling, looked damn happy too.

  “You look incredibly sexy in Issy’s old dress,” he said, coming up behind her, relieving her of the slobbery ball. “Whose idea was that?”

  “I told your mum I felt uncomfortable and she suggested it. You like it, do you?”

  “I do. A lot.” The dress with her makeup and hair made her look like a cartoon anime girl. “Though Issy was about sixteen when she wore that.”

  “Funny, your Dad likes my other look better.”

  Jake threw the ball right to the back of the yard. “My Dad should keep his thoughts to himself.”

  “He thought I was a stripper or worse, didn’t he?”

  He snorted. “Yeah, probably.”

  “I told you I wasn’t parent-friendly.”

  “You did fine, Rie, thank you. It’s made me really happy to have you here tonight. You’ll have to wait til we get back to the hotel so I can show you how happy.”

  “Really, I have to wait?” Monty dropped the ball at her feet. It made a splat sound. “I thought we might have a tour of your old room.”

  Jake grinned, reached for Rielle and pulled her against his chest. “There’s an idea. You sure you want to do that? It’s not like it’s been kept a shrine to me. I’ve been gone a long time. It’s pretty much a guest room now.”

  She turned in his arms. “I’d still like to see it.”

  During dessert all Jake could think of was getting Rielle into his old bedroom and tumbling her on the bed. It wasn’t actually his old single bed, though he did sleep in this one from time to time, but the whole notion of having her in that room, while his parents clattered dishes in the kitchen, was a major turn on.

  He reached for her hand under the table and she took it willingly, letting him link his fingers through hers. Until he saw her in the kitchen when they arrived, looking like a fantasy from a parallel universe, he hadn’t focussed on how strange it would be for her to be enveloped by someone else’s family. He knew she’d done this for him and it made him want her all that more desperately.

  Knocking back an offer of seconds, Jake stood, Rielle’s hand still grasped in his. “We’re going to my room to listen to records,” he said, coming out with words he thought he might’ve used if he’d ever brought a girl home during his teens. Choking on his laughter and the surprised looks on Trish and Mick’s faces, he dragged Rielle through the lounge room, down the hall and into his old room, backing her up against the closed door.

  She said, “Steady tiger,” and they collapsed into each other’s arms laughing hysterically. He didn’t wait for her to catch her breath before tossing her on the bed and kissing her senseless.

  Flopping on his back and pulling Rielle onto his chest so he could look in her violet eyes, he said, “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you’re here.”

  “They’re nice, your parents. Can’t think what they’ll make of me.”

  “Why would you worry about that? It’s not your problem what they think.”

  “But I don’t want it to be your problem.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

  She tucked her head down into his neck. She smelled of apricot pie and mothballs and dog and it wasn’t revolting, because it was Rielle. “I don’t know.”

  “Could it be, Ms Mainline, that you might miss me when I’m not around?”

  She went very still.

  “It’s okay, Rie, I was joking.” He gave her a little shake, wanting to recapture the earlier fun; cursing himself for making it too serious.

  Rielle lifted her head and a breath away from his lips whispered, “Teenage boys just don’t know when to shut up,” and he was only too happy to prove her wrong.

  As a kid, Jake thought the closest he’d ever come to having a rock star in his bedroom was a poster on the wall. The one he was making out with was flesh and blood and attitude more than he could handle. And the fact his parents were only two rooms away, and likely all ears, made the whole thing a million times more exciting than his wildest wet dreams.

  42. Cupcakes and Come Downs

  “Reedy, she’s just arrived,” said Tef.

  “Can you bring her in? I’ll meet you over on the grassed area.”

  Tef took off with a smile. Mum was one groupie the guys would be happy to see and not because she was willing to put out for a backstage pass. Her put out was universally shared, free of obligation and all sugar—literally.

  There was already a huddle of roadies when Jake arrived with Glen and Bodge. His mum was somewhere in the middle of it. They could hear her laughing. She was Wendy Darling with all the lost boys clamouring for her attention.

  Jake waited until the crowd thinned; roadies going past him with strawberry, lemon and chocolate iced cupcakes in their hands and smiles on their faces.

  Lizard said, “Your mum’s a top bird, Reedy,” as he sauntered past, licking crumbs from his fingers.

  “Hello darling,” she called when she saw him. “Oh, is that Bodge with you?”

  “Yes Mrs Reedy, it’s me,” said Bodge, stepping forward. “Got any cake left for this old soldier?”

  “Saved one for you especially,” said Trish, with a cheeky grin.

  “Mum!” said Jake, calling her on the flirting.

  “Well, I did,” she said, a wide-eyed Wendy.

  On stage, Rand peered at the roadie huddle. “What’s going on?” he said, to no one in particular.

  Lizard, passing said, “It’s Jake’s mum. She always brings us cake when we’re in Sydney.”

  “For real?” said Rand, to no one again.

  A few minutes later, Rielle asked the same question. “What’s going on down there?” Standing with Rand, she could see various roadies trouping back towards the stage area laughing and talking. Jake was standing at the outer edge of a cluster of black shirts.

  “Jake’s mum brings cake.”

  She looked at Rand with her mouth open. “No! Seriously?”

  “Cool, huh.”


  “Yeah!”

  Rand put his big hand over Rielle’s forehead and eyes. “Hmm, not hot.”

  She squirmed away. “What’re you doing?”

  “You didn’t say anything mean about Jake’s mum. You’ve gotta be coming down with something.”

  “I met Jake’s mum and dad last night.”

  “You went to dinner?”

  “Yep. Home cooked chicken and vegetables with apricot pie and whipped cream.”

  “Yum. Was it weird?”

  “Only at first. It was a nice night,” she said, with a shrug that probably told Rand more than her words about how surprised she was by that.

  He slapped his hand back on her forehead. “You’re definitely coming down with something.”

  Just because she wasn’t sick didn’t stop Rielle throwing up. That night as seventy-five thousand fans streamed into the stadium, she was braced over the toilet bowl in her dressing room, dry retching.

  This was Sydney, this was the hometown crowd at last. This was the hardcore beginning of the world tour and the next six months of her life.

  Rand handed her a bottle of water when she emerged. “I feel like crap too. But at least I look better than you.”

  Rielle sipped the water. “At least I can fix how I look. God, we made it. Do you want to know how many times I almost booked a plane ride home before tonight?”

  “No!” Rand rolled his eyes back in his head. “Did you really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fucking fantastic. I’m glad I didn’t know that. What stopped you?”

  There was a thump on the door and Teflon called, “Ten minutes.”

  “You, the guys.” Rielle peered in the dressing room mirror, adjusted the green and silver stands she’d added to her hair. “Jake.”

  “So, he was able to help you?”

  She nodded, lipstick brush in hand. “Just knowing he was there for me, in my corner. It helped.”

  Rand grinned, stood beside her at the mirror and finger combed his hair. “So what happens in that corner now?”

  “We rock Sydney.” She pouted at the mirror and tried to ignore his pointed look.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know that’s not what you meant, but what do you want me to say? You told me to get it together and to let Jake help me. He did, and here we are, ready to face seventy-five thousand screaming Sydney fans.”

  Rand stepped back from the mirror, frowning. “You cannot be that evil, Rie.”

  “He knew what he was getting into.”

  “Pin me with those purple eyes and tell me you don’t feel something for Jake like what I feel for Harry?”

  “Five minutes,” said Teflon outside the door. Then it burst open and Stu came in. “I just barfed,” he said, a look of surprise plastered on his face. “Shit, I’m nervous.”

  Rand laughed and clapped Stu on the shoulder. “Must be a Sydney thing.” He looked back at Rielle, and she knew he was seeing through her. He grinned. “It’s gonna be a great show.”

  In the backstage tunnel they passed the members of Problem Children coming off stage. They could hear the roar of the crowd as their own show’s opening music and video presentation began.

  Rielle felt the sound vibrate through her body and hugged Rand, Stu and Roley who were first up on stage. The nausea had gone; what remained was an energy that made her feel weightless and all-powerful. She stood alone in the backstage area, feeling the music pound in her veins and visualising her entrance off the trapeze. Composed and steady, she waited for Bodge to clip her safety harness on. When she lifted her arms to give him access to the belt at her waist, it was Jake who snapped the harness in place.

  Jake wanted to see her before she went on stage, but he didn’t want to break her concentration. He slid the safety harness into place and stepped away, just as Bodge would’ve done, without otherwise disturbing Rielle. There was no reason for her to know it wasn’t Bodge, but she snatched his hand and turned to face him, her head snapping up to look at him. What he saw made him blink in surprise, made his heart skip, but the look was gone in an instant as she re-focussed and the trapeze lifted her into the rigging.

  He’d seen desire and something more. From anyone else he’d have called it love, but from Rielle? Jake shook his head as the roar from the stadium accompanied her entrance on stage and her voice lifted in song. Probably unfair to surprise her—unfair to interrupt her pre-performance routine. He hadn’t meant to do that, but that look—had it been one of irritation it would’ve made more sense, but that wasn’t annoyance in her eyes, in the lift of her lips, or in the way she grasped his hand.

  He moved back to get out of the pathway of the stage support team and found himself standing beside Jonathan, who was drenched in sweat, shirtless, a towel around his neck, slugging from a bottle of water.

  They watched as the show unfolded, from the opening number, through the initial patter with the audience that made the crowd scream their excitement and appreciation, and into the second song, where Rielle and Rand’s vocals came together in a exhilarating mix of soaring notes and passionate expression.

  Two songs later, Rielle left the stage for her first costume change. Half blind from the stage lighting and now in relative darkness, she had Teflon at her side to guide her through the backstage area. Handing her an open water bottle, Tef steered her past Jonathan and Jake towards the offstage change area. When she drew level with Jake, she broke her stride, put her hand to the back of his head and pulled him in close for a quick, hot, sweaty kiss. Then she was gone, leaving him with a lip splitting grin. He wiped the red lipstick away.

  Jonathan exploded. “I’m fucking amazed she chose you,” he yelled.

  “What?” Jake shouted, the smile leaving his face. Through his earplugs, he’d heard aggression but not the words.

  Jonathan turned to face him, spittle flying. “She’s a superstar. You’re a fucking roadie.”

  Jonathan was hyped-up with adrenaline and resentment. Jake knew he should step back and let it go, but something in the tall singer’s sense of entitlement to a stronger claim on Rielle made anger curl in his muscles.

  “Back the fuck off. She makes her own choices.”

  Jonathan loomed over him. “Hah, you’re right.” He stabbed a finger at Jake’s chest. “When she’s finished playing with you she’ll choose someone who fits her talents better, like me, mate. So you hang on for all you’re worth Reedy ‘cause the come down is gonna to be fucking brutal.”

  43. Balance of Power

  Jesus Christ! Jonathan was right. Coming down after Rielle Mainline was going to be a white knuckle ride. Worse than anything Jake had been through with other relationships. Hell, he was still friends with most of the other girls he’d been involved with. Could he be friends with Rielle? Were they friends now?

  In the last week, he’d somehow managed to forget the balance of power between them was so unequal. She was a superstar, and the world was interested in what she had for breakfast and he was just a roadie with a trade to fall back on. Next week she’d be in LA and he’d be working the phones looking for work.

  Last night, having her so embedded in his world—far from the lights, the fashion and the craziness of rock stardom—had been like a dream come true. But in reality, what did they have in common, other than an all consuming lust and the tour schedule which was now in its last days?

  So why was it that her kiss felt so much like the start of forever, when he should’ve known it was the beginning of the end?

  Fuck, that Jonathan had been the one to remind him.

  Jake watched the rest of the show in a daze, lost in the mastery of the band’s performance, of Rand’s musicianship and Rielle’s thrilling vocals. It washed over him in a haze of light and heat, sound and emotion. He tried to collect himself so when he saw Rielle next, he’d be wearing a disguise of his own—a mask that didn’t show how sick the prospect of losing her made him feel.

  When the stage plunged int
o darkness after the third encore, the band came off on a high. Rand’s entourage was going berserk, as though they’d had a hand in the triumph. They’d spilled out of the green room and met the band in the backstage tunnel giving Harry’s cameras another spectacle to shoot, and the Sydney-based journalists in attendance additional colour for their stories. Tonight the party would be radical.

  All Rielle wanted was Jake. She didn’t care about the rest of the band, about the after-party, about being starving hungry and wringing wet. When she came off stage she was swamped by Rand’s mates, and their wives and girlfriends. She couldn’t see Jake. After a show, he always gave her time to herself before he came to her. But she didn’t want to wait—she wanted him right now. She had to extract herself from the flow of people streaming towards the green room to make it to her dressing room.

  As she’d fought her way clear, laughing and promising to come and join the party, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She smiled. He’d found her.

  “You were on fire tonight,” said the wrong J.

  “Thank you.” She smiled up into Jonathan’s face, but didn’t slow her pace.

  “Come party.” He closed his hand around her arm, stopping her.

  “Later. I want to get changed.” She pulled against him. He was holding her too tightly, and she could tell he’d been drinking.

  “Nah. Come on, you can do that after.” Jonathan stepped into her space, his other hand going to her hair.

  She dropped her voice and her smile. “Let me go now.”

  “Ah Rie, don’t be like that. I’ve missed you. Come party with me.”

  “I’m only going to tell you one more time. Let me go.”

  Jonathan laughed. The hand not holding her bicep was now caressing her face.

  Rielle sighed. “Remember, you asked for this.” She brought the flat of her palm up sharp and hard under Jonathon’s nose.

  He clutched his face, reeling backwards, blood spurting through his fingers. “Bitch—you broke my nose!”