by JS Taylor
“Hey Summer. Out here all alone?”
I start, and quickly blank my screen. But I don’t know if I was in time.
Deven is standing right behind me. I didn’t even notice him arrive.
“Hi,” I say coldly, making it clear what I think of him.
I may not like Keisha. But that is low.
Deven pauses for a minute, his even features considering my face.
“Look,” he says. “I came to talk to you. I know you’re mad. Let me explain.”
“I’m not mad,” I say honestly. “I’m just… Disgusted I guess. How could you do that to Keisha? You can see from her face how hurt she is.”
Deven raises his hands in defence.
“Is that what you think?” he says. “You’ve got me all wrong Summer.”
I glower at him.
“I don’t think I have,” I say. “Unless you’re telling me you didn’t set all this up, Flirting with George in front of Keisha. She obviously has feelings for you.”
Deven nods.
“I did do that,” he says, “but hear me out. My motives weren’t what you think. I hate what Scandelous did to your band,” he says, his voice thick with sincerity.
He must have drunk quite a few cocktails, I realise. I can smell strong spirits on his breath. And his eyes seem a little blurry.
“I wanted to reset the score,” he continues, “because. I like you Summer.”
What?
“You’re joking, right?” I am so shocked I can barely be angry with him. “You just spent the last hour flirting with George.”
“George is a big girl,” says Deven, “she knows how the publicity thing works. I’m sure she’d rather Scandelous got their comeuppance.”
“Well I wouldn’t” I retort. “I think the whole thing’s just… Sick. I think it’s sick Deven. Making Keisha like you, then hurting her like that.”
Deven’s face registers confusion.
“I thought you hated Keisha,” he says.
“Scandelous might have pissed me off,” I say, “but I don’t hate them.”
“I only did it for you,” says Deven, his face taking on a puppy-dog quality.
I’m shaking my head, remembering what Tammy said. That Deven can’t be trusted.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I think everything you say has an agenda. You’re in this to win Deven. And I think everything that comes out of your mouth has winning in mind.”
“Summer,” whispers Deven. He leans close, and I suddenly realise, he’s angling to kiss me. I get another blast of strong liquor as his mouth zeros in on mine.
It’s so completely unexpected, it takes a moment to register.
Horrified, I push him away.
But instead of backing off, Deven moves his hands to tighten on my shoulders.
“What are you doing?” I protest. “Deven! You’re hurting me.”
“Listen Summer,” says Deven, his voice cold now, “we’re the perfect match for this show. You’re my best shot at winning this show. So I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I stare back at him incredulously.
Surely he doesn’t think this is going to win me over?
“You don’t serious believe,” I stutter, “that I’ll date you so you can win the show.”
“Not any more,” says Deven. His grip on me is like iron. “I had hoped you’d be more cooperative. But being as you’re so stubborn, I might as well tell you.”
I writhe in his grip, but he’s strong. Not for the first time I curse my slight frame. I’m no match for Deven. He’s got me held tight.
Deven leans closer, and I try and twist my face away, but he has me pinned against the wall.
“In about ten seconds,” he says, “a film crew is going to come around that corner. They’ll catch us. Secret lovers. Can’t keep our hands off each other. Even though it’s not allowed.”
What? Is he setting me up too?
Deven smiles smugly, and I feel a burst of real hatred for him.
“Deven, you’re drunk,” I say. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’m thinking very clearly Summer. We’ve got this whole evening planned.”
“What do you mean, you’ve got it planned?”
“Me and the producers,” says Deven patiently, as if talking to a child.
“You’re rigging the votes?” I accuse.
Deven looks confused. “I don’t need to rig the votes,” he says. “I’ve got a deal with the producers. I add drama. They give me better coverage.”
“But that’s…”
“Genius?” Deven smiles smugly. “I know. I’ve always had a gift for seeing the bigger picture. I understood immediately what the producers wanted. Drama. All I have to do is give it to them.”
He moves closer, and I writhe pointlessly under his strong grip.
“It’s a shame for you,” he murmurs, inches from my face. “Because the producers never wanted you past the first show. But don’t worry,” Deven strokes my chin as I struggle in his grip. “I’m happy to date you when you’re kicked off Sing-Win. You’ll need the publicity.”
What the? I can’t believe Deven could be so calculating. Tammy was right. He is a total snake.
“The film crew won’t see anything but you pinning me against a wall,” I spit back at him. “That won’t help your reputation.”
“They’ll see what they want to see,” replies Deven. “I told you. It’s all arranged. Haven’t you heard of the power of editing?”
He moves to fix me more tightly. Despite his obvious drunkenness his grip is like iron.
“I’ll tell the press everything,” I threaten.
Deven smirks. “And risk your whole band? I don’t think you’ll do that Summer. If you try and make out I forced you, no-one will believe you. All you’ll do is confirm that She’s All That are a bunch of attention-seeking harpies. And you’re already skirting the line on that issue.”
He’s right. I think miserably. Plenty of people still think we started a fight with Scandelous. But I’m not going to give him the pleasure of seeing I know that.
Deven manoeuvres himself in front of me, and I realise what he’s doing.
If the film crew come out now, they won’t see my horrified expression. Just Deven’s back.
Fuck. This could look bad…
It suddenly flashes through my brain, that Adam will see the footage.
“Please Deven,” I say, trying for a last ditch attempt to appeal to his decency. “This isn’t right.”
But Deven’s face suggests he hasn’t even heard me. Instead his head is tilted slightly, listening for the arrival of the film crew.
With a sinking stomach I hear the door to the smoking area open. And I prepare for the bright film light to land on us.
But it never comes. Instead a familiar voice echoes out into the small courtyard.
“I suggest you unhand the lady.”
The strong voice rings out in the small outdoor space.
What the?
Before I know what’s happening, there’s a large hand on Deven’s shoulder. And he goes flying against the opposite wall.
Now that Deven’s not blocking my view, the face of my rescuer comes into full view.
Adam. Relief floods through me.
Deven is sprawled against the far wall, blinking like he doesn’t know what hit him.
“Would you mind telling me,” Adam says to Deven, his voice dangerously low, “What you were doing?”
“I… Summer and I came out here for some alone time,” stammers Deven.
“That is bullshit!” I shout.
Adam strokes the dark stubble on his jaw. In the partial light, his dark hair and strong features cast deep shadows on his face.
“It didn’t look to me,” says Adam, “as though Summer was really enjoying you pinning her against the wall.”
His eyes flash dangerously.
“It’s all part of the show,” says Deven, rubbing his arm. “The crew wil
l be out here any minute to film us.” He says this as though he expects Adam to back down. But Adam only lowers his dark eyebrows.
Deven is tall, but his physique seems almost childlike, next to Adam, and he’s cowering now.
Adam is a thick pillar of muscle, his tattooed biceps barely restrained by his T-shirt, and his broad chest an impenetrable wall. The rage boiling off him seems to double his physical presence. As though he’s taking up all of the small area.
“I spoke to the film crew,” says Adam, and his voice is deadly. “They told me about your little arrangement.”
Adam’s long fingers stroke along his stubbled jaw.
“What no-one considered,” he continues, “is that Summer isn’t a little doll to be passed around.”
Deven begins shaking his head frantically, as if pleased to be given a way to explain himself.
“Of course not,” he mumbles quickly. “I’m sorry Summer. You’re totally right. I should have… Asked you.”
“You shouldn’t have been setting things up for the cameras at all,” I reply, outraged. “What you’re trying to do Deven. It’s disgusting. You should win by your own merit, or not at all.”
“That’s certainly what you’ll be doing from now on,” says Adam. “From this weekend, I own the show. And there’ll be no sordid deals with Martin and the production crew.”
This remark acts like a sucker-punch to Deven. You can almost see him mentally calculating how to align his new loyalties.
Adam eyes Deven carefully. There’s a long moment where I think he’s planning to punch him. Then Adam takes out a cigarette and lights it slowly.
“Consider this your one and only warning,” he says, inhaling deeply. “When I run the show, I’ll make sure you’re never anywhere near Summer. If you bother her again, well…” Adam inhales, and blows out a cloud of smoke. “I won’t be held responsible for my actions,” he concludes.
“Of course,” stammers Deven.
“Now get back inside,” says Adam, “And take those Scandelous girls away with you,” he adds as an afterthought. “I hardly think George wants them at her birthday.”
Deven heads back inside as fast as his legs will carry him, leaving Adam and I alone outside.
Adam takes another drag of his cigarette and grins at me.
“Hello baby,” he says.
My heart melts.
“Could you stop rescuing me like this?” I ask, struggling to maintain my dignity. “This is the twenty-first century you know. I like to think I have some control over my own life.”
Adam laughs.
“You do,” he says. “I just step in where needed.”
“Well,” I admit, “I’m glad you did.”
He flicks his cigarette to the floor, grinds it out beneath his boot, and steps towards me, taking me in his arms.
His face is close to mine, and I find myself drinking in the smell of him.
“You,” he says in a low voice, “are absolutely worth rescuing.” He plants a soft slow kiss on my lips, making my body tingle.
“In fact,” he says, between lazy kisses, “I’d rescue you every day, just to kiss this mouth.”
Mmmmmmm.
I feel myself moving into the kiss.
“Let’s hope you don’t have to,” I mutter hazily, as my soul opens into his warm lips.
We stand for a moment, lost in one another, and then Adam gently pulls away.
“Come on,” he says. “We’d better get back to your friend’s birthday.”
He pauses for a moment.
“I’ll be sneaking you away soon though,” he adds.
I frown at him.
“It’s George’s birthday,” I protest. “I can’t leave early. It’s rude. I’m grateful for the rescue and everything, but…”
He gives me an infuriating smile.
“We’ll see,” he says. “I’m sure George will spare you.”
“She won’t,” I say with certainty.
Even though George will spend all night talking to her old school friends, she’d still be pissed if I left early. I know her too well.
Adam leans closer, and runs his hand along my thigh.
“I’ve got a very good reason,” he says softly, “to get you out of here. Remember our agreement?”
Oh no.
I’d forgotten. I’m wearing knickers…
“Not really,” I say, feigning casualness.
“I think you do.”
Adam’s fingers slip delicately along the line of my dress. I shiver at his touch. I know I should push him away, but I’m suddenly putty in his hands.
“I think a certain person has broken her promise,” he says, his voice dangerous. “And I’m looking forward to delivering the consequences.”
I feel a surge of adrenalin shoot through me. And I realise, suddenly, that I want to know what his consequences are.
Whoa where did that come from?
I can’t deny I’m a little uncertain at the idea of Adam delivering ‘consequences’ for my transgression. But I’m excited too.
I bat my eyelashes at him.
“We’ll see,” I say, echoing his earlier words. “If George doesn’t want me to go, then I stay.”
I give him a seductive smile.
“And you’ll have to wait for your consequences. Whatever they are,” I purr.
What am I doing? This can only make him madder.
But a mischievous part of me is enjoying watching his face.
Adam gives a choking kind of growl. Then he grabs my hand, and unceremoniously drags me back into the bar.
Chapter 22
The soft lights shield us from view as we enter. But I make out George, Tammy, Alexa and Taggie sitting alone by the bar.
My eyes sweep the remaining tables.
Scandelous and the film crew are nowhere to be seen. I guess Deven kept his word then. He’s somehow got them to leave. Though I have no idea what fucked up deal he made with Keisha to make that happen.
Adam gives me a knowing smile, and propels me towards George and her friends.
Taggie and Alexa look at little downhearted as we approach. I guess they were enjoying Deven being in the bar. But George looks happy enough.
As they spot Adam, all the girls’ faces flash from incredulity to amazed delight.
“Adam,” breathes George, visibly blossoming. “You came to my birthday? I don’t believe it.”
“Happy birthday,” replies Adam, leaning forward and kissing her on both cheeks. George looks as though she’s been transported to a new level of bliss.
I notice her sneaking a smug glance at Taggie and Alexa.
“I take it you didn’t want Scandelous here?” asks Adam solicitously.
George shakes her head. “No way,” she says frowning. “They were about to crash the karaoke stage,” she adds, looking furious at the thought.
“That’s what I thought,” said Adam. “I had a word with Deven and the film crew, and they’ve all gone elsewhere for the evening. They won’t be back.”
George beams.
She seems to have completely forgotten that only ten minutes ago she was flirting with Deven.
“Thanks so much Adam,” she says, flashing her perfect white teeth. “How can I ever repay you?”
I frown at her.
Enough flirting George!
Adam smiles enigmatically.
“I actually thought I might do something for you,” he says, his Irish accent loading the words with even more charm. “I’ve not bought you a gift,” he adds apologetically, fanning his empty hands out. “But I thought you might let me sing you a song.”
George nearly falls off her seat.
“Seriously? You’d sing me a song?”
“Of course,” says Adam easily. “There’s a stage isn’t there?”
He gives my hand a quick squeeze, before vanishing in the direction of the stage. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Taggie and Alexa explode in a cloud of questions.
“Do
you know Adam Morgan?’ gasps Taggie, her eyes wide, staring at George. “I thought you didn’t really get to meet the big stars.”
“Oh yeah,” says George airily, hamming it up. “We chat and stuff.”
Tammy meets my eyes, and raises her eyebrows.
But before George’s friends can bombard her with any more questions, a familiar deep sound rolls over us.
“Good evening,” says Adam, the microphone amplifying his mesmerising voice.
Adam has taken the stage. The entire bar clientele seems to stand still.
Our little group is held on his every word. And everyone else in the bar has snapped to attention. First in interest, and then in amazement to see Adam Morgan performing.
He’s holding one of the guitars which was propped against the stage. It’s an acoustic. It hangs easily off his body in a crazily sexy way, which makes me want to run into his arms.
“I wanted to sing a song for my friend George,” says Adam, “because it’s her birthday today.”
There’s a hush as this sinks in.
“It’s a new song,” continues Adam. “I wrote it recently. It needs drums as well as the guitar really,” he adds apologetically, “but I think it will sound right enough without.”
The audience are held captivated now. You could hear a pin drop. Even the barmen have stopped shaking cocktails.
I am suddenly burning with pride.
This man wants to take me home tonight.
I can hardly comprehend it.
“A few months ago,” says Adam slowly, “I was having a conversation with my friend James Berkeley.”
There’s a little whoop at the back of the room, at the famous name.
“And he was telling me,” continues Adam, “That when you meet The One. You just know. Like a thunderbolt has hit.”
Adam glances at me, and I feel my heart skip a beat. Then he studies the guitar, setting his fingers to a chord.
“I never really believed in that,” he continues with a grin. “And you may have heard, I had a few wild ways once upon a time.”
Cheers echo up from the bar, this time more male than female.
“But things have changed,” says Adam, his voice becoming serious. “And that inspired a song. Which is what I’m going to sing to you tonight.”
His eyes are resting firmly back on me now.
“So George,” he adds, without taking his eyes off mine “I hope you find your thunderbolt, like I found mine.”